Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Is that what you told them?”
She stares out the front of her Mercedes. “What did you want me to tell them? That’s all I knew. Our friends. Family. Neighbors. What was I supposed to say?” Her tone has an edge.
I don’t blame her for being upset.
“I hate that I left you to deal with everything. But if I would have stayed—”
She doesn’t look at me while reaching for my hand, squeezing it. “I know. You don’t have to explain. What’s happened is awful. And there’s no easy way through it. There’s no easy way to explain it. Even now … what will we tell people? That you’ve been miraculously cured of terminal cancer? And is that even true? Is your cancer gone? That can’t be true. Can it?”
Lifting her hand to my lips, I kiss it. “Well, I don’t feel like I have cancer. So we tell them I’m alive. That’s it. We don’t owe anyone anything. I can’t let myself worry about it. I can’t let you worry about it. Sometimes selfishness is self-preservation.”
Amelia turns her head, eyes slightly narrowed. After a few seconds, she gives me a single nod.
“There she is.” I open my door as Astrid exits the building, chatting with a group of friends. When she sees me, she freezes. The next ten seconds feel like one of those videos where a parent—serving in the military for a long time—finally returns home. I tell myself I’m not going to get all emotional.
Such a lie.
“Dad!” She drops her bag on the ground and sprints toward me.
I’m not going to die of cancer; I’m going to die of happy heartbreak.
I lift her off her feet and turn in a slow circle while she cries.
“Are you better?”
“I’m better, baby.”
Please, God. Let it be true.
“Astrid, you left your bag.” Her friend holds out the bag as I set Astrid on her feet.
“Thanks.” She wipes her tears and takes the bag.
“Are you okay?” her friend asks.
Astrid glances up at me and smiles. “I’m great.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IT’S THE BIGGER PICTURE.
The hero’s homecoming doesn’t last. I guess beating death (yes, yes … knock on wood) isn’t as heroic as risking one’s life for one's country.
Astrid’s life goes on as it should.
Dance.
Flute.
Swimming.
Golf.
Amelia volunteers at the school and works twenty hours a week with the advertising agency, mostly from home.
And I exist.
“Have you thought about visiting the oncologist?” Amelia asks from the bathroom, curling her hair after school drop-off while I read a book in bed.
“I have not.” I keep my eyes on the page.
“Don’t you want to know if you’re really better?”
“According to the doctors, I should be dead by now. But I’m not. I think it’s fair to say I’m better or at least going in the right direction. Maybe it’s borrowed time, but I’ll take it.”
She sighs. Lately, I’ve been the lucky recipient of so many heavy sighs. “I’m going to call Rob. Since he was your refuge, maybe he can convince you to see your doctor.”
“I was with Rob until January. He’s not convincing me of anything. I went to stay with him because I knew he’d let me live or die in peace.”
She cranes her neck past the doorway to give me a narrow-eyed look before unplugging the curling iron. “Then where were you the rest of the time?”
I mark my page and close the book, setting it on my outstretched legs. “Austin.”
“Texas?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” She adjusts her belt and leans her shoulder against the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom.
Can I phone a friend? Maybe Koen can reassure my wife that my relationship with Scottie is nothing to worry about. I’ve been avoiding this conversation because I don’t know how to explain it in a way that will make sense to my wife, who doesn’t understand how I’m still alive.
“Do you have work to do?”
She nods. “I have a call at ten.”
I glance at the alarm clock.
“That’s not for a half hour,” she adds. “We have time to talk.”
“No. I don’t think thirty minutes is enough time to explain this.”
“Explain what?”
I chuckle. “I’ll explain it later.”
She frowns. “Tell me.”
“Later.” I open my book again.
“Did you have a hot affair?” Her eyebrows lift.
I don’t look at her. That’s my first mistake. No, that’s my second mistake. Telling her I was in Austin when she has a call in thirty minutes was my first mistake.
“Jesus, Price, look at me.”
I do. And I have no idea what my face looks like, but I fear it’s bleeding guilt when I have no reason to feel guilty.
“What were you doing in Austin?” She curls her hair behind her ear, her voice a little shaky.
“Amelia, who makes you feel like you don’t have a care in the world? Do you have someone who inspires you to live in the moment?”
“You.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not true, not even a little. I’m not asking you who you love. I’m asking if you’ve ever known someone who has an energy about them that’s calming. Someone who makes you feel like you’re overthinking life, working too hard, and focused on things that don’t matter in the big picture.”