Four

I let out a gushing breath like someone had let the air out of me. I felt like Monica had just kicked me in the gut. “Cancer? What kind? Oh, God, I can’t believe this.”

Monica squeezed my hands. “Lung cancer.”

I put my hand on my chest. “Lung cancer. Oh, God. That’s bad, huh?”

Monica looked at the floor again. She was a nurse, so I knew she understood more than she would probably tell me. “I’m not sure how bad it is. If it just stayed in the lung and didn’t travel anywhere else, she could do pretty okay. It depends on the kind, how large it is, how aggressive it is, whether it’s spread . . . all sorts of stuff. If it’s localized and they can cut it out and maybe do radiation and chemo . . .” Monica shrugged, not making me feel any better.

I stared at Monica like she was speaking Swahili. “What are you saying? Or not saying? Just tell me the truth. Don’t try to protect my feelings. I need to know what’s going on.”

Monica reached over and took my hand again. “I don’t know yet, Trina. I don’t want to say too much until I get more information. Okay?”

I nodded and sat still for a few minutes. Then I got up and marched over to the bottom of the steps. “Tiffany, get down here now,” I yelled as loud as I could.

Monica rose and waddled over to me. “Don’t get mad at her, Trina. She’s been a wreck handling this all by herself.”

“Well, she didn’t have to. She should have called me the minute she found out.” I called up the steps again. “Tiffany, I know you hear me. Get your butt down here.”

Monica put a hand on my arm. “Trina, please don’t give her a hard time. Your mother threatened her and made her swear not to tell. She was scared to death when she talked to me. You know how your mom can be.”

I softened. I did know how Moms could be. As much as she was loving, she could be stubborn, mean, and downright scary at times. Even at thirty, Tiffany was still scared of her and would do anything to please her.

When Tiffany finally emerged from her room and came down the steps, her eyes were bloodshot red and swollen. She must have been crying in anticipation of Monica telling me about Moms’s diagnosis. Instead of yelling at her, I took her in my arms. “Come here, baby girl.” I squeezed her tight, and she sobbed.

“I was so scared Moms was gonna die before you got home. And that she’d be mad at me if I told and that you’d be mad at me if I didn’t. She looks so sick, Sissy. I can’t handle it anymore.” She melted into a puddle of tears.

I led her over to the couch and sat her down beside me. I cradled her in my arms and rocked her until she stopped crying. I was sorry she’d had to go through this without me.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Tiffy. Moms isn’t gonna die. She’s gonna be just fine. Okay? Don’t worry. And I’m not mad at you. I know how Moms can be. Stop crying, okay?”

She nodded and sniffled on my shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be okay?”

“Of course, baby girl. Everything will be fine.” Instantly we were transformed back to years ago, after Daddy left. Nights when Moms worked late, and we were home by ourselves huddled in my bed, afraid of thunder and lightning or the boogeyman, or the bad men on our Baltimore row-house block. Or like the time when Moms was in a car accident, and our stupid Aunt Penny told us she was almost dead when all she had was a broken wrist. Or when one of Moms’s awful boyfriends would come over drunk. We’d hear them arguing and Moms getting slapped around before she could get to the kitchen to get her skillet or knife.

I held Tiffany now like I had all those times to try to protect her from the pain of the world. No matter what was going on, I had always wanted to make sure she felt safe.

“Come on, let’s go see her.” Monica brought Tiffany some tissue, and she blew her nose. She took both of our glasses into the kitchen, then came back and picked up my two empty water bottles and her still half-filled one.

I watched her take them to the trash can. “Wait! You’re not gonna throw that away, are you?”

She stopped with the bottles hanging midair over the trash can. “What?”

“That water. The bottle is still half full.”

Monica looked down at the water bottle and back at me like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I reached out for it. She brought it to me and I drained the rest, then gave her the bottle to throw away. Both her and Tiffany stared at me like I was crazy.

“What, they don’t have water in Africa?”

I narrowed my eyes at Tiffany. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t know why you drank all that water. You’re gonna have to stop and pee at least three times on the way to Baltimore,” Tiffany said.

I chuckled at the thought of shocking them by stopping on the side of the freeway and digging a hole behind the bushes to use the bathroom. “I’ll be fine. Just let me grab some toilet paper to take.”

They both stared at me again.

“Oh. I guess they’ll have it wherever we go . . . never mind. Tiffy, you ready? Monica, I’ll get to see you tomorrow, right?”

Tiffany bit her lip. “Well, actually I was hoping Monica would take you. I need to stay here and clean out your car since you’ll probably need it back now.” She looked down and to the right.

My eyes widened. “What? You need to . . . what?”

She burst into tears again. “I can’t do it, Sissy. I can’t go see her today. I’ve seen her every day this week. Every time I see her, it makes me more sad and depressed. And I can’t handle being there the first time you see her.” She looked up at me, her doll eyes wide open. “I have a job interview tomorrow. I need to be ready. I know you want me to get this job so I can get my own car and get my own place so you can have your life back. Right?” She blinked her long lashes a few times.

I couldn’t look at her. I just turned to Monica and said, “Do you mind driving me?”

“Of course not. That’s what I’m here for. And we have so much more to catch up on anyway.” She winked, and I knew I wasn’t off the hook with telling her about my uninvited romance.

I thought about the newspaper tucked in my suitcase, wondering if she even knew what was going on. “Yeah, you’re right. We do.”