Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Anderson

Mom once told me that the biggest tragedy in life is to lose time focusing on the negative. The biggest loss is not following your dreams while living in the past. Not death. Death is only the next step in the circle of life. Sophia Hawkins savors every moment, appreciating the fact that every day is precious. That each moment could be the last. Death isn't a tragedy. Losing your mother to cancer isn't a big loss. Simply put it, it's life—according to Mom.

It's a big fucking deal. I'm losing my only family.

"Accept my future," she insists as I drive her from the oncologist to our hotel. Dr. Vadapalli's plan of treatment didn't satisfy Mom's expectations.

"The cancer is too advanced," he said. "Once it takes over the bones and organs it's almost impossible to eradicate it."

One fucking day and he already had a plan. He can promise to extend her life by about six more months, maybe a year. My world collapsed when he said that without it, she only has a couple of months left. His words stabbed me in the back. This was our last hope. Dread crept over me, numbing my brain. My stomach is full of rocks.

"I should live my last days the same way I've lived my life: fully with no regrets," she continues. "That's what you should do, Anderson. Laugh more often, live without fear, love with all your heart."

With my line of work, I can attest to being fearless. I don't experience fear during my missions. This one life I have is disposable. Like her, I'm aware that I can die during a mission or in a simple car accident. Getting over losing my mother, the only family I have left, isn't as easy. Pancreatic cancer is killing her slowly. She lost her appetite and weight, and never complained about those stomach aches she had. She never mentioned her symptoms until the doctor told her she had cancer. The medical explanation made no sense to me—she had to start treatment immediately, and they didn't give us a good prognosis. Fucking cancer ate through her organs faster than we could fight them.

"Enough is enough. I want to live, Anderson. Enjoy whatever time I have left happy, and not in between appointments. I can't waste my time in pain after they poke me with needles and poison me with chemo."

I park in front of the valet, they open the door for my mother and help her down. Closing my eyes, I toss my head against the back of the seat. I hear a buckle click; a hand squeezes my shoulder.

"Hawk," Aspen whispers. "We'll make sure her last days are the best of her life. I'm here for you guys."

Angling my head, I open my eyes and kiss her fingers. "Thank you, Aspen."

We climb down from the rental, joining Mom who's already heading toward the elevator. The silence inside the elevator is deafening. I don't have words to express the heaviness inside my heart. No matter what we do, how many specialists we visit, I have maybe a year with her.

"Unacceptable," I bark. "You and Dad taught me to fight."

"There're many ways to fight, Anderson." She uses a calm voice, taking my hand and holding it between hers. "Quality over quantity. Spending money while visiting my sister is more fun than visiting a string of doctors who will tell us what we already know."

She swallows. "I'm leaving soon."

The elevator stops, opening on our floor. "Some get off the ride sooner than others, Anderson. You risked your life for years. I accepted your profession, praying every night that you would come back home." We step out of the elevator. She pats my cheek.

"Stop struggling with my decision. I worry about leaving you alone. Still, I trust you'll find happiness." Mom tilts her head toward Aspen who's walking with her chin down and slumped shoulders. "This doesn't mean that you have to stop working. The importance of your missions and the people you save are greater than waiting by my side for my last day."

"I'll give you guys some space." Aspen continues next door, leaving Mom and me behind.

"Mom, you can't possibly ask me to?—"

"No, I'm ordering you to continue with your normal routine. Once we arrive home, I'm planning a trip to visit Dorothy, maybe we can go to London. I've never been there." She stops in front of her door. My eyes sting, my heart squeezes. This can't possibly be happening. We traveled to San Jose, searching for the cure, the answer to my prayers. Not the nail to her coffin. "I'm going to rest. The idea of going to visit the Golden Gate is magnificent, wake me up when you want to take us."

"Anderson, you're a good man, a great son, and a hard worker. But if you want me to leave in peace, you have to show me that you're living."

"Mom, I love you." I kiss the back of her hand. "I'm going to miss you. These past months we've spent together are the best and hardest of my life. You trying to fix me makes it agonizing. There's nothing to fix. I have a job and a home, plenty of friends and you."

"I just want to see you happy, in love: sharing your life with someone, and having a family." Happy and in love? Looking toward the door where Aspen disappeared behind, I ponder about her and my feelings toward her.

Is this where we're heading?

Waving my hand dissmisively, I give Mom the most practical response I can come up with. "I'm content, and sometimes that's enough, Mom." I continue lying, swallowing the tears clogging my throat and kissing the top of her head. Thirty-eight years have taught me how to behave and answer to Mom. She wants to make sure I'm perfectly fine with her choice. "I'll be in my room working, if you need me."

As she enters her room, my stomach falls to the floor as my soul shatters. Mom, don't leave me. My skin itches. I want to jump out of the building through a closed the window. Any physical pain won't compare to this heartache. The walls are closing in on me, I have to escape from the building. I search for the exit, running down the stairs, through the lobby, and rushing through the parking lot with no direction—only one goal, burn the emotions and not go back until I accept Mom's wishes. I'm leaving someone else behind, another person I can't save.

Exhaling and inhaling, I continue running. My heart rate's up. My eyes focus on the path, and my brain's focused on those whiskey eyes with the golden flecks. I allow Aspen to stay with me. Her scent, her silky voice and her sweet lips intoxicate me. The anger ceases, the sadness settles, and my soul begs for comfort. My speed increases as I change directions. I learned to work with a team years ago, understanding that without a plan, the possibility of success decreases. Improvising, I slow down stopping at the first convenience store I find on my way back to the hotel.

I buy a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. You can only beat the vice for so long. Pulling my phone out, I call my therapist. The man who listens to me after every mission. He keeps my sanity in check after I coming home from a long period away; when I no longer have to pretend to be another person to infiltrate enemy lines.

"This better be important. Do you know how dangerous it is to leave my grandchildren with only one adult supervising for more than five minutes?" my therapist asks.

"Heard a few rumors." I chuckle. My boss is his son-in-law, and has shared a few anecdotes about his son and cousins. They are always up to no good. "Want me to call later?"

"No, you're down in San Jose with your mother. I get the feeling that things are getting harder. I'll take this as a friendly call, not a professional one. How is she doing?"

"Still strong. We visited the doctor and..." I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling the frustration clogged inside my lungs. I brief him on the details of today's visit and Mom's reaction while I get through two cigarettes.

"Sounds like she's ready to leave on the next train, but enjoying the waiting room. Smart woman." He isn't helping with that comment. "As a friend and a man who understands that train of thought, I recommend you support her. Be by her side while she continues this journey."

"As my therapist?"

"I want you to put yourself in her shoes and think what you'd like for your last days. What are the options you're given?"

Her options are to continue treatments while feeling sick or enjoy the rest of her days traveling with her sister and doing what she likes best. I slam my palm on my forehead. Of course, she'll be wasting away in Seattle. "Fuck. I'm an idiot."

"Papa Chris!" A nasally little voice comes out from the other side of the line.

"My time is up. Listen to your mother, and enjoy the time you spend with her."

The verdict is final. I can't stop what's coming anymore. I can't fight it the same way I can't fight the tide or the rain. Change is happening whether I like it or not. The question is what's going to happen after she leaves me? Smashing my half-consumed cigarette against the wall, I climb up the stairs knocking on Aspen's door.

She opens the door and her arms for me. I walk into them, holding her tight as if she's my lifeline. Her scent diminishes my anxiety. There's a saying that I always repeat during my missions, "find strength within yourself. Fight with all your heart, and never give up." Letting Mom go feels like giving up. My heart has no fight left in it; Aspen's the one holding me together. I never thought that someone else could be the source of my strength.

Releasing my hold, I take a look at her. Those whiskey eyes I dream about every night stare back. Her heart shaped lips clamp together. I study her. Her wavy, dark brown hair is tied into a loose ponytail. Her delicate features look classy, elegant. But above everything, it's her eyes and the reflection of her soul that has me coming back to her. The tidal wave of feelings slams into my heart. There are too many for someone who has never dealt with them before. Among every emotion flowing through my system, the ones I feel for Aspen strengthen every day.

"I'm here for you, Hawk," she whispers, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and giving me a peck on the lips.

This difficult journey doesn't have a smooth road. Walking it with Aspen makes it less rocky and more bearable.