The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(48)

“So…wanna go get a hot fudge sundae?”
Her head turns in my direction and a breath catches in my throat. Anxiety begins to creep into my chest, and my fingers absently glide along its center to ease the sudden pressure, but there’s no relief from the movement. My trembling hands find the seat underneath my legs as a very familiar fear, one which I haven’t felt in a very long time, begins to filter through my body.
“Um, no, I don’t want to go anywhere near a hot fudge sundae, actually.” I turn away from her, trying desperately to maintain my composure and focus on the hustle and bustle of the city through the window. Anything to stop the terror dictating my rapid heartbeat.
Hot fudge sundaes are always Linda’s go-to strategy when she’s about to break some really bad news. It started long ago with poor Walter, and consisted of a lengthy, in-depth introduction to chocolate toxicity as she tried to assure me his death wasn’t my fault. The meetings have, unfortunately, continued on throughout the years.
Therefore, the mention of hot fudge sundaes means that something is terribly wrong. And whatever it is, it’s vibrating the air all around us. I can feel it clear down to the marrow in my bones as the heaviness of unbridled anger and well-known terror begins to coat my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
God, I can’t breathe.
“Aubrey—”
“NO!” I scream, the pressure inside my chest tightening as I twist back to her. “Just tell me, Linda! I don’t need a f*cking sundae to make it all better!”
She grips the wheel tightly and jerks the car to the left, crossing two traffic lanes until we finally coast to a stop alongside the road. Throwing the car in park, she turns and faces me, her own anger evident as her eyes narrow in my direction and her lips tighten into a thin line. I hold her stare, panting from my outburst, fury framing my features as we glare at each other.
Shaking my head, I mutter, “Just tell me.”
Her face soon falls from that of irritation into one of defeat as she reaches over and pries my hand out from under my leg. Stroking it softly, she says, “I didn’t want to do this here, but I don’t know when I will see you next and it needs to be discussed. It’s something that affects both of us greatly.” Her hand squeezes mine and she exhales deeply. “And I sure as hell didn’t want to do it in the car, on the side of the road.”
I say nothing in return, but my mind is screaming in such anguish I’m forced to close my eyes.
Tightening her grip, she takes in another breath and clears her throat. “I have been diagnosed with stage II lung cancer.”
I open my eyes and jerk my hand out from underneath hers. “No.”
“Yes, Aubrey.” Linda draws her hand back into her lap and continues to nervously watch my reaction from across the vehicle. “I knew back in late January actually, but I didn’t want to say anything until I found out the prognosis and treatment options. February came and went, and now it’s the beginning of March and it’s time.” She swallows deeply. “I’ll be starting radiation next week, and surgery soon after that.”
“So…Christmas…not bronchitis?” I ask with no emotion in my tone as all the pieces fall together.
Linda shrugs her shoulders. “Not bronchitis.”
“You haven’t smoked a cigarette in your life.”
“I know. Sometimes it just happens.”
You mean, I just happen.
The thought lances my brain, the pain of its implications throbbing inside my head. My throat swells even more, and the pressure beneath my ribcage almost implodes as my walls begin to reform. I can feel them mechanically hardening around my heart, furiously trying to suffocate any hope that I ever had for having a normal life.
“Are you going to be okay?” I barely manage to squeeze through my gritted teeth.
Linda’s face falls. “I sure hope so, honey.”
Moisture lines her eyes, but she nods slightly. Reaching over, she takes my hand from my lap and squeezes it gently. “I will fight this,” she says, her tone full of determination. The tears are finally expelled from her eyes and slide down her pained expression as my chest squeezes like a vise, further constricting my breaths.
I give her a slight nod and place my other hand on top of hers. “I know you will.”
But because of me, you will lose.
Guilt floods me.
I can’t breathe.
Forcing my gaze at the windshield, I make no further attempt to speak. My heart rate slows and my skin grows cold, the heat from my anger lessening as I force myself to go completely numb.
It hurts too much.
I cast my glance to the window and swallow deeply as I shift in my seat, once again facing forward. “Linda, would you mind taking me home? I’m not feeling so well.”
She sniffles beside me, but nods her head and shifts into drive. Her hand remains clutched around mine the entire way home. Ten minutes later, we pull up to my apartment complex and I say nothing as I open the door, placing my foot on the pavement. Linda opens her own door to join me, but I raise my hand, stopping her as soon as she stands.
My voice is soft with my plea. “Please, Linda. I just need some time. To process…all of this.”
Her lips curl into themselves and with a saddened expression, she dips her head in acceptance before reluctantly sliding back into the car. I turn away from her and slowly begin my ascent up the stairs, sighing with relief as the sound of the gravel crunches underneath her tires. Her headlights no longer illuminate the stairwell as I trudge upward and make my way to the front door, completely encompassed in darkness as it tries to consume me.