I don't know why am calling my mom, but something tells me to reach out to her. It's been a crazy few days since graduation, and I miss her. Since I moved out of South Dakota, she's been a constant source of concern for me. Or maybe not her personally, but life really hasn’t been easy on her. I hate that she has to work so hard always. She should be able to lean back soon and take things a little slower.
I feel guilty for even thinking it, but it feels really really good to be away from all the trouble back home. It is just so hard to always be shrouded by tension.
"Yes, I am up, honey," my mom says and coughs. She’s not a smoker, but she sounds like she’s been puffing on cigarettes all night. "Damien was out all night, and he only just walked in the house a few hours ago. I was worried that he was out so late, so I couldn't really sleep. You know how it is with him. He's just 17, but he goes his own ways as always. I don't know…"
She's right. I know how it is. Damien is my youngest brother, and although he is only 17, he's already on his way into more trouble than I care to think about.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. So what's up with him this time?" I really don’t have the energy to hear about it. I hate that he gives my mom so much reason to worry. Like she doesn't have enough on her plate.
"I don't want to burden you with this, Emma. But he owes some guy a lot of money. I’m not sure how much. And I don't have a dime to help him with. I have no idea how to get him out of this mess. But don't worry about it, Emma. We'll figure it out." She coughs again. "I'd much rather hear how things are with you, my love. Did you go out with your friends to celebrate that you are now officially out of school?"
I smile. My mom doesn't really understand my new life in Boston, but she's so sweet and always does her best to understand what goes on. And I guess she’s right. Most people do go out to celebrate on graduation night. It’s just that I’d much rather go to work and make some money. I don’t need all the parties and celebrations. I want to be where I feel safe. But she’d never understand. So I lie.
"Yes, we went out to celebrate. We had the best time. Stayed out until 2 a.m. It was so special." Is it a lie when you say something untrue to protect someone? I don't know. "And now my college days are over. Before I started school, graduation seemed to be a lifetime away. And now I'm already done. I can't believe how fast time flies."
My mother clears her throat. "You're right, baby," she says. "Time really does fly. And now I have a beautiful, smart, 28-year-old daughter who is an expert in something with biology. You're the first one to graduate from our family, you know. I had always hoped this for you. You are so bright and you always were. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that my dream would come true. I am so proud of you, my sweet daughter."
It has been a struggle for me to get here, even more so than she knows. I always knew that if I was to go to college, I would have to fund it myself. My mother has more than enough to do with feeding the family and paying rent. Education for me has been a luxury. My teachers would always encourage me to apply for scholarships, and I've written hundreds of applications. But I never sent a single one of them. I never had the confidence in myself to think that anyone would give me money for being clever. Actually, for a couple of years, I thought I would never be able to go to college. I planned on taking a job at a local coffee shop to support my family. I wanted to stay back home and do the right thing. But my desire to learn more and make something of myself wouldn’t go away. It was such a dilemma.
Then I met Laurie. She was pretty, fun, and very sweet. She was just 19 years old, but she made lots of money. When I first started talking with her, I knew that I would never be able to do what she does. Just the thought of having men look at me like that… I can’t imagine a more humiliating situation to be in. Yuk! And who’d want to look at me that way anyway? Laurie and I talked about it a million times. But then I realized that working together with her would allow me to go to Boston and study, and I would still be able to help my mother out financially. Basically, I would be able to live my dream without abandoning my mom. I thought about it for a few days, and then I made my decision. To this day, I'm still not convinced that I did the right thing, but it took me through school.
"Thank you, mom," I say softly. "I wish you could've been here, but I know that was just not possible. I thought about you the whole day."
My mother takes a deep breath. "I know, baby. I know."
"Momma, how are you doing?" I can hear in her voice is something isn't completely right, and I wonder if it's the thing with Damien that bugs her. Silence. "Mom, are you there?"
She clears her throat. She is still there. "Well honey, I hate having to say this on the phone, but I don't know when I'll get to see you, and there's something I think you need to know." She takes a deep breath again. "You know how I've been telling you about the cough I've had for a few months? Well, the thing is that I went to the doctor a few weeks ago to see if she could get me some more efficient cough medicine. The syrup I picked up at the pharmacy doesn’t really do anything for me. The doctor gave me a new syrup, but she also sent me to the hospital to get some x-rays. I don't want to beat around the bush. It doesn't look so good. It looks like I might have cancer in my left lung. Or no.” She corrects herself. “I have cancer in my left lung." Her voice is shaky.
My God. What is she saying? Please God, don't let this happen. My brain is on overdrive, and I can't say a word. So she continues.
"The doctors say I am lucky that they found it at a very early stage. They say my chances of being cured are very good. They are putting together a treatment plan for me, and they're going to start treating me already this week. I just want you to know because this means that I won't be able to work for some time. I mean I want to, but the doctors say it will be physically impossible for me to tend to my job. So I guess I'll be home a lot over the coming months."
Her voice cracks again, and I can tell she's struggling not to cry.
"Mom, I am so sorry to hear. I can’t believe this is happening! But don't worry, I'll come home and take care of you. And don't worry about the finances either. I'm not exactly sure how, but we'll figure it out together. Now you just need to concentrate on getting better.”
My mother is crying now, and I don't blame her. So am I.
“You have no idea how outrageously expensive this treatment is. Like it isn’t enough of a burden to be sick. I have my savings, but they’re nothing compared to the expenses I’m looking at. I don’t know how in the world I’m gonna…”
She’s sobbing. I feel so powerless. “I know, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way…”
But how? I have no idea.
My mother whimpers. Then she takes a deep breath, steels herself, her voice gradually building determination.
"Sweetie, now you listen to me. I am so grateful that you are offering to come home. But I'm telling you not to. We're going into rough waters, I know, but I can handle this. I have your brothers here, and although they're not very helpful right now, I'll explain to them that this is a serious situation and that I need them to help me. You've just graduated. And I know the sacrifices you have made to make it this far. I'm not about to let you blow your chances, just because I happen to get sick. Stay in Boston, honey, and do your thing. Go get some job interviews, and find your feet in your professional life. And then come see me when you can. You do your thing in Boston, and I'll do mine here in South Dakota. We are a team, honey, and we can beat this."