1 Diagnosis

Lily

Lily knew the cancer was going to kill her when her car wouldn’t start.

The battered but usually reliable old Corolla had turned over a couple of times but never caught, leaving her sitting numbly in the driver’s seat, the pounding of her heartbeat too loud in her ears.

Her heart had been pounding all day. From the moment she’d woken up, while she’d sipped her coffee in fretful silence, as she’d driven to the doctor’s office and sat in the chair with its scratchy blue fabric. Pounded right up until the doctor walked in, sympathy in his eyes and a clipboard in his hands.

The antiseptic clinic smell had suddenly been too sharp, and the cool air went biting, the scratchy fabric of the chair like sandpaper against her skin. The doctor’s too-calm tone and quiet words had been somehow shatteringly loud as he’d laid it all out for her plainly.

Her heart had started racing then, pumping blood and adrenaline through her system, preparing her for a fight that would never come. One she’d already lost.

Lily sat helpless and alone, gripping the steering wheel and staring down at her hands, the sleeve of tattoos snaking up her left arm going blurry as her eyes burned. She’d been told countless times that getting tattoos was like putting a bumper sticker on a Bentley, and each time, she’d laughed them off and joked that she was a Corolla at best. What a self-fulfilling prophecy that had been. A single gasp of breathless, unfunny laughter escaped as she tried to blink away the tears. She clapped a hand over her mouth, even though no one was around to hear.

She was in shock. She knew that. Panicking? Probably. Why not add hysterical to the mix?

It bubbled up her throat and escaped around her palm, until finally she gave up the pretense and let her hand drop. She laughed and laughed, horrible, desperate laughter, at her diagnosis, at her car that wouldn’t start, at her whole ridiculous life. Her throat tightened, and she gripped the steering wheel with both hands until her knuckles turned white and her laughter started to sound and feel suspiciously like sobs.

“Fuck,” she choked out. The mirthless humor washed away in an instant, replaced by a familiar burn of anger. Fury.

“Fuck! FUCK!” She slammed her hands on the wheel, the sting and jolt of impact shuddering up her hands and arms. “ FUCK! ” She screamed so loudly that a woman getting into an SUV four spots over startled and dropped her keys.

Lily slumped, pressing her forehead to the wheel, long auburn hair falling forward to shroud her from the world, hands clasping the back of her head as she took deep, shuddering breaths. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears, like it was trying to reassure her that she and it were still alive.

The doctor had given her options of course. Options to prolong. To ease. But options were for people with money.

People whose cars would start.

She sucked in a long, slow breath, focusing on the sweet rush of air into her lungs, lightly scented with amber and sandalwood thanks to her air freshener. She’d known in the doctor’s office, from the moment he’d told her that not only did she have cancer, but it had metastasized everywhere. She’d run through every option, every variable again, then once more just in case, and reached the same conclusion.

She was going to die.

The knowledge sank into her soul like a stone. She wanted to panic, to completely lose it, to let herself finally fall to pieces. To let herself cry, scream, beg, and rage. To shatter into shards so small she wouldn’t see herself in any of them. But, damn it, she just wasn’t built that way. She wasn’t built to break, no matter how much she wanted to, and she silently and half-heartedly cursed that fucking part of her that wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her be that vulnerable, even alone.

Lily pressed her fingers to her eyes so hard she saw stars. She’d be dead in less than a year with no treatment. With aggressive chemo, she could buy herself some more time…miserable, painful time. And debt.

Why did it always come down to fucking money? Her job paid reasonably well, and she got a week of paid time off each year—with no accumulation of paid time off from year to year of course. But benefits? Too expensive for a company that would rather pad their bottom line. She’d been scrolling through job listings in every spare moment of time at work, and damn near none of them offered benefits. Most of the ones that did sounded awful and soul-sucking, but she’d applied to the few that didn’t sound completely intolerable.

She’d always been careful with her money, trying to walk the fine line between financial responsibility and allowing herself to enjoy life, but her savings wouldn’t pay for the first round of chemo. She could afford a hospital gown and a high-five from an overworked nurse, but those wouldn’t keep the cancer from killing her.

Nothing would.

Her phone buzzed in the center console, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her heart aching so fiercely it made her breath catch. She knew without looking who the text was from, and horror for her family clawed at her throat. The cancer might kill her, but her death might kill her parents. Oh hell, her brothers…

A hot tear burned down her cheek.

Her hand shook when she reached for her phone, and it took twice as long as it should have to unlock it and open the text from her mom.

Mothership : So?

Lily’s heart lurched. “Fuck.” She choked, dropping her head back. Her backpack sat in the passenger seat, packed for a weekend at her parents’ house. She’d hoped it would be a celebratory visit. Self-loathing and fear rose like a tide, threatening to drown her. In a surge of helpless, defiant rage, Lily reached for the key, twisting it mercilessly hard. With a pause and a whine of effort, the engine started and purred quietly. She briefly wondered if it was a hopeful omen before dismissing the idea and just being thankful for the small mercy.

“Okay,” she said quietly. Then again, with more conviction. “Okay.”

She sat up, swiping at her eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath, then another. She checked herself in the rearview mirror, hating the truth she saw in her own hazel eyes. She had a couple of hours on the road to think, and she would need every second of them.

Her response to her mom was brief, but it was all she could manage.

Lily: I’ll tell you when I get there. See you in a bit. Love you.