“Where have you both been?” I ask cautiously, afraid of upsetting them further but freaking out from not knowing what’s going on.
“We…we…” she stammers, “we were at the clinic,” she says.
“What do you mean? Are you ill? Is that why you’re so pale? Do I need to get you some medicine?”
I turn to Dad and he’s just sitting there, his expression as unseeing and vacant as Mum’s was. He’s completely still. He doesn’t even blink. It’s like something died inside him.
My mum’s eyes are filled with tears when she finally meets my gaze. The sadness in that look, the total despair, the pity for me… I see it all as plain as day.
“I’m not well, Ellie,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the thumping of my heart behind my eardrums.
“No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut, willing this to be a dream. This isn’t happening. I shake my head from side to side, “No! No, no, no!”
“Ellie, yes,” Mum says. “Cancer, ovarian cancer. Stage two.”
I suck in a breath and hold it, my mum can’t be ill. A million questions fly through my head. She can’t leave me, she’s too young. What will we do? How will we survive if she can’t work? Does Dad make enough money for us? I’m not even out of school yet.
“But… what about?” I can’t form a coherent sentence before the tears start. Soon, I’m sobbing uncontrollably, helpless to stop myself, unable to be strong for my mum.
“Shhhhh , Ellie. It’ll be alright.” My mum has circled the table and is crouching down next to my chair. I throw my arms around her, clinging to her. I can’t lose her. Dad finally snaps out of his trance, coming over to wrap us both in his arms.
They bring me over to the sofa where we manage to discuss her plans. Our plans. Chemo, surgery, social benefits, leave of absence from work. First and foremost, they insist that I finish school and take my A-levels as planned. No matter how much I argue that I should quit school and get a job, they refuse to budge on this. I agree just to keep them happy. At this point, I’ll do anything to make it easier for my parents, anything.
When I finally drag myself into bed and lay down, I’m too exhausted to cry, to think, to make sense of anything. All I can do is feel, and it’s the one thing I wish I couldn’t do.
12
Adam
“Where’s Ellie today?” Dax asks me after our first class.
“I have no idea,” I answer. “She didn’t look ill yesterday, and couldn’t have rung me even if she were.” It’s not as if my mum is conscious enough to have a phone installed let alone pay the bill every month. Hell, I’m lucky to have heat and electricity, and that’s only because I live in council housing.
“That’s odd. You going to stop by her place after school?”
I think about it for a minute before making a decision. “Nah, I’m going now. I’m only at school to see her, so what’s the point of staying?” I punch Dax on the arm, “See you later?”
“Yeah, practice at six,” he says, grinning. “And Adam, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Smiling, I shake my head, “She’s ill, idiot. What kind of bastard do you think I am?”
Dax busts out laughing. “The kind of bastard who used to be in anyone’s skirts who was willing!” He says as he takes off for his next class. Amused, I leave the school and head towards Ellie’s. If she’s not well, I can repay the favor she did me when she nursed me back from my stab wound.
My brother Danny still hasn’t caught the fuckers who jumped me, not that I talk to him all that much. He said I’m too ‘hot’ right now to run his drugs for him, and he doesn’t want anymore of his stash nicked. At least he promised to keep the pressure on Callum and Ryan to stay away from Ellie, I just have to slip him thirty quid a week.
Thanks for the sympathy, jerkoff.
Don’t worry that your only brother was nearly killed doing your dirty work. Bastard’s only worried about the drugs that they swiped off of me when their knife went into my side. My fucking family sucks.
Ellie told me her flat number once, thank God. Otherwise, I’d be knocking on every door in the building until I found her. It takes so long for her to answer the door that I’m about to give up. When she does, I think I die a little at the sight of her, all disheveled and red-faced, with tired, swollen eyes.
“Ellie?” I croak out, my heart pounding in fear. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Oh Adam,” she wails and collapses against me, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Ellie, you’re scaring me, Sweetheart.” I wrap my arms around her and lift her up, carrying her to the sofa and sitting down with her on my lap. I tuck her into my chest and breathe in her vanilla scented hair, feeling completely and totally helpless as she cries into my shirt.
“Please, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on,” I beg her. Sliding my hands up to her face, I tenderly pull her chin until she’s looking up at me. Her face is puffy and red, and her eyes are so swollen that she can hardly open them. “Please! I’m going mental here thinking the worst!” I run my hands up and down her body, looking for defects or broken bones or anything that would explain her level of distress.