“Try to get some food in you,” I suggested. “You haven’t even opened the package of protein powder that I had delivered the other day.”
“Protein shakes just taste funny after a while,” she said. “I’ll try though, for you. What are your plans for the day? You’re not just going to sit here and tell me what to do are you?”
I laughed. “No, mom. I’m going out on the boat with Ron after a workout.”
“You work out way too much to not have a woman,” she said.
“I work out way too much to waste my time with a woman.” I kissed her cheek. “I’ll check on you later, and I’ll pick you up in the morning for your appointment. I love you, mom.”
She held my chin in her hand and kissed my forehead.
“I love you, Gavin, so impossibly much,” she said and settled back into bed.
“Nothing’s impossible,” I replied. It was a common set of phrases that we’ve used nearly my entire life.
I spoke with Karen a little on the way out, asking her if mom had eaten anything within the last twenty-four hours.
“She held down a pudding cup,” Karen said. “But other than that, no. Her appetite is completely gone.”
“Thanks, Karen. I’ll see you later.”
I left with my heart in my throat, struggling to hold myself together. If today was a good day for mom, how were the bad days?
I spent more time in my home gym than I had planned. Leg lunges, curls, squats, lifts, all in reps of 20 until my thighs were threatening to give out was my usual routine. My body was thick with sweat by the time Ron called asking if I was on my way. I cursed and promised him I would be there soon, and hopped into the gym shower to rinse off. I grabbed the protein shake from the fridge and finished it before leaving the house. Regular vanilla was definitely better than banana caramel.
I figured I’d have to eat real food at some point, but my nerves were getting the better of me. It seemed mom was only growing sicker, and I was worried that the chemo wasn’t helping.
“On your way doesn’t mean 15 minutes, jackass,” Ron said as I met him on the docks. He was already getting my most cherished boat, the Lupine, ready for sail.
“Maybe if you spent 15 minutes in the gym you wouldn’t have such bad luck with women, Ronald.” I climbed aboard and let Ron do all the work. He made his living fishing on boats anyways.
“Don’t be an asshole.” Ten minutes later and we were out on the water. Ron kicked back with a beer on the top deck, and I caught one as he flung it my way. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“On the weekends,” I said. “Weekends are for cutting and bulking.”
“That shit makes no sense.” He downed his beer. “But you have the body to prove it, I guess.”
Ron’s body wasn’t entirely awful; he was skinny with the beginnings of a beer belly and strong arms from spending so much time fishing, but he was constantly making fun of me for taking the time to improve my muscles everywhere. His dark hair was cut shorter than mine, and his skin sported a dark tan from being out in the sun for hours nearly every morning. His father, a man who passed away in his early forties, had taught the both of us how to fish when we were teenagers, and up until recently we both made a living catching and selling fish in the market.
“How’s Mona?” he asked.
“Sick.” I stared at the blue sky above us. I was glad for the thin sweater as the sun covered us in a warm glow. “She’s not getting better.”
“Is she getting worse?” Ron turned to look at me, but I refused to look back.
“She’s not getting better,” I repeated. “She’s a fighter though. Kept down a pudding cup, and she’s cracking jokes nonstop.”
Ron laughed. “Mona’s always had the best sense of humor.”
“At least we don’t have to worry about the financial part of this,” I said. “Stress makes people worse, I’ve read.”
“It does,” Ron said. “The hospital bills were piling up so high when dad was going through chemo and radiation. For the longest time, mom swore that the bills killed him, not the cancer.”
“Oh shit,” I cursed. “I’m so sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged me off. “No one deserves to go through any of this, least of all Mona. I’m happy she doesn’t have to worry about anything else. Selling your dad’s company was a genius move.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I said