The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(58)

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I hear Callie in the background. “Nana, color with me!”

My hand grips the phone as my voice lowers. “Is it gone? Did the chemo work?” She beat it once. She beat it once…

There’s a long pause.

“Progression.” Her words are soft. “It’s okay, I promise. This is something I prepared for mentally. Been there, checked out the library book. My spirit is stronger than cancer. You know it, I know it…” She stops, her breath hitching.

My world crashes. “Mom…”

She clears her throat. “We can cry. We can shake our fist at God. We can scream if we want, we can, and trust me, I have, but we don’t give up.”

“I’m not,” I say, closing my eyes. “Never.”

“I know you aren’t, but I need to remind you. And myself.” She pauses, and I picture her face, see her in our kitchen, battling to be strong for me.

“Was Rae with you? You weren’t alone?”

“She was with me.” She pauses. “Sometimes certain drugs work and sometimes they don’t. Our bodies are all different. Not all treatments are the same, and they’re monitoring me closely. It doesn’t mean all is lost. It means a new way of fighting.” A small laugh comes from her. “We hoped for a partial remission or just a stable prognosis, but I’ve got this, River. I’m a survivor. I’m the luckiest mom in the world. The best grandma ever.”

Everything she says is the right thing, but…

“What happens next? Did they say?”

“Hmmm. I’m going to forget about the ugly C word. We’ll figure out next steps after Christmas. These things take time.”

Time? Time?

What’s wrong with those doctors?

She needs to be surrounded by a team of people. Now.

I grapple with the tight feeling in my chest. “Shouldn’t we be working on a plan?”

“I need to enjoy my holidays,” she says softly. “I’m not giving up. I’m not. Not when I have so much to live for. You and Rae and Callie… I can’t die. Just can’t.”

Emotion slams into me and I can’t get air. My throat feels like it’s going to close up.

She never says die. Never.

A group of Kappa pledges call my name and wave from about fifty feet away. They look as if they’re going to come over, and I hold my hand up and shake my head.

“How do you feel?” I ask gruffly.

“Good.”

I sigh at the lie in her words. “Hmmm, really?”

“I. Am. Fine. Some nerve damage I hadn’t expected has set in. Neuropathy. I keep dropping shit. My hairbrush, a bowl of blueberries, a can of green beans on my big toe. That wasn’t pretty. Can’t wear button-up shirts anymore because of the tingles in my fingers. There’s therapy to help with that, so it’s fine. One more hill to conquer. My liver is acting up from the chemo, but hey, it’s still there.”

She talks to Callie for a moment—Hey lovely, your flower is gorgeous—then comes back to me. Her voice has a strange brightness to it. “I’m going to Callie’s Christmas show at the preschool tonight. She’s going to be an elf, can you believe it? You should see the costume: pointed green shoes, red stockings, and the most adorable little dress. Rae has whipped up some amazing chicken soup for me, and there’s a new episode of Schitt’s Creek waiting for me later. And I got to hear your voice. Those are my three, well four, things today. I love you, son, to the moon and back. When I close my eyes at night, I see your face and I swear, it makes everything okay. I’m so proud of the man you are. I know your father would be too. You keep up the good work. I should go.”

“Mom, not yet.”

The pledges call my name again and I turn my back to them. They don’t get it; no one knows, no one, how much it hurts to imagine an existence without my mom, how deep that fear is inside me.

She inhales a sharp breath. “Oh, River. Don’t. It’s going to be okay.” She pauses and I hear her rustling around, the sound of Callie’s voice closer. “I dreamed about your father last night. Six years and I can still conjure his face in my head, down to the birthmark shaped like Tennessee on his shoulder and the amber glints in his eyes.”

My hand clenches the phone. “Was the dream…was it like mine?”

A long breath comes from her. “I long for yours, River, to have him visit me, to have him hold my hand and tell me it’s going to be okay. This one… It was our first wedding anniversary and he took me to that terrible Italian place in Manhattan…”

“Romano’s?”

“Yeah. You remember.” She laughs. “Anyway, the piped-in music was horrendous, our table was stuck next to the kitchen, the pasta was cold, the wine was too sweet, but we didn’t care. He whispered in my ear how much he loved me, told me he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me, and it wasn’t nearly long enough, it wasn’t…” She sucks in a breath.

“Mom?”

A cough comes from her. “I have some advice for you, about your Anastasia. And life, I guess.”

Yeah, she knows about her.

“What?”

“If you never say the things you should, you might never. People can go away.”