The next afternoon, Steve calls a family meeting, and I don’t know if I can deal with it. The check arrived in the mail this morning. I’ve seen the envelope with my scratchy handwriting on the side and Amber disappearing into the kitchen for hushed conversations that my stepbrothers have been oblivious to. Steve has no idea that Amber told me about his illness, or that I’m the one who sent the money to pay for his treatment. He doesn’t know that Jefferson knows he’s sick either. The whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen.
I don’t do emotions. I deal as well with the pain of others as I do with my own. Badly, really badly.
By the time I make it down to the den, everyone is already there. Jefferson is perched on the edge of a wooden chair in the corner, his hands clasped in front of him, his tension palpable. The others are slumped back on the couch, perfectly oblivious.
Amber and Steve are on the love-seat, their thighs touching. My dad’s face is grayer than I’ve ever seen it. He’s been dealing with his illness okay by himself, but now it’s time to tell the people he loves, he looks as though he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Carson shifts so that there is enough space for me to sit. I look to Jefferson again, but his eyes are on the floor, his hands still tightly clasped as though he’s trying to hold himself together.
This is bigger for him than for me. Steve has been his father for a decade, and mine for five minutes. They may not be blood, but this is their family. I’m just an outsider.
But it doesn’t feel that way. The lump in my throat tells me that it isn’t that way at all.
“I’m sorry to do this,” Steve says. “But I have something I need to tell you all.”
“You’re not getting divorced, are you?” Brayson blurts.
Amber shakes her head, and Steve takes hold of her hand to show the boys how together they are.
“We’re not getting divorced. I’m sick. We’ve known for a while, but we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to worry you.”
“How sick?” Anderson says, leaning forward.
“Cancer.” It’s the word that no one wants to hear from the person they love, and I hear the rush of air leaving the mouths of my stepbrothers next to me, the shock palpable. Jefferson shakes his head gravely, still focused on the floor in front of him.
“I’ve been having treatment but nothing has changed. Now the doctor’s recommended some experimental treatment. I wasn’t going to go ahead with it because it’s so much money, but a check came through the mail—an anonymous donation—and so I’m going to try.”
“Someone sent money for your treatment?” Jefferson asks. “Who knew about the cancer?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know who it’s from. We haven’t told anyone before you guys,” Amber says. “All we can think is that it might be someone from the hospital, but we don’t know who.”
“We do know that it’s a lifeline,” Steve says. “As much as I don’t want to take someone else’s money, the doctor is excited about the treatment and I don’t really have a choice.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Anderson asks.
“There are other treatments,” Amber says, but her voice is shaky, and her eyes drift to the floor, making it obvious that everything is riding on this. At that moment, I see the likeness between her and Jefferson so clearly.
“It’s going to be okay,” Carson says firmly. “You’re strong. You can fight this.”
“Yeah,” Anderson says with passion. “You’ve got this, Steve. If anyone can fight this, it’s you.”
My dad’s eyes find mine, and I don’t have the words to reassure him. I’m not like Carson with his fighting talk, or Anderson with his compassion. I’m dead inside.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” he says gently. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this way. I didn’t want to ruin your visit.”
Jefferson makes a grumbling noise, and Steve turns to him. “What is it, son? Do you have something you want to say?”
Jefferson looks between his parents but—by some miracle—decides to keep his mouth shut. Whatever he has on the tip of his tongue is kept to himself, but I think I know what it is. He believes that Steve has put me before his treatment and that my visit has taken the focus away from him trying to get better from the cancer. Jefferson resents that Steve’s had to keep the knowledge to himself for all this time, and blames me for it all.
The anger in his touch makes sense, but the desperate need I felt behind it is still a mystery. I can’t hate him for being the way he is because we’re so similar, plastering over our hurt with whatever tools we have. Fury. Sex. It’s all the same.
“I wish you’d told me from the beginning,” I say softly.
“I wanted us to have time together…time that wasn’t overshadowed by this.”
“A visit based on a lie?”
Steve shakes his head. “It wasn’t a lie, Sara. I was trying to protect you all.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for you to focus on yourself,” I say firmly.
Amber squeezes Steve’s arm. “Sara’s right. This is all about you now. You just let us know what you need to make this easier and that is what we’ll do.”
“I just need you to all be normal, okay? I don’t want to see you looking sad or concerned for me. I don’t need pity; I just want things to be as they were.”
“We can do that,” Brayson says softly.
“We can,” I say. “It’ll be like nothing is happening.”
“That’s my girl,” Steve says. “And now I think that we should watch a movie. Someone pick something that’ll make us all laugh. And I want a beer too, and for the rest of you. Let’s drink, eat popcorn and laugh, okay?”
“I’ll get everything from the kitchen.” Brayson is out of his seat before anyone else has a chance to volunteer.
“I’ll help.” I stand quickly, wanting to get out of the room for a few minutes so that I can get it together.
In the kitchen, Brayson inhales deeply and grips the edge of the counter. “Fuck.” I slide my hand over his back, feeling his ribcage moving in distress. This is how I should be reacting, but instead, I just have an empty feeling inside.
“He’s going to be okay,” I say. “The treatment is going to make all the difference.”
“You think?” His eyes find mine, and they’re watery, swimming like quicksilver with unshed tears.
“Definitely. Your mom said it’s been really effective in trials so far.”
“When did she say that?”
My heart thuds as I realize I’ve slipped up. He knows I already knew, and I kept it a secret from him. I blink, my mind whirring over what to say next. I don’t want to make this worse than it already is, or worse, work out that it was me that sent the money. Nothing can risk my dad’s treatment going ahead.
Nothing.
“Just as we were leaving the room,” I say quickly and brightly. I start to gather the beers from the fridge, hoping to distract Brayson from whatever he’s thinking, and it seems to work because he’s bending down into cupboards for the snacks.
“We just need to keep his spirits up,” I say. “That’s the most important thing. Positive thinking goes a long way toward recovery.”
Brayson nods. “You’re right.” But I don’t miss the way he looks at me with an edge of suspicion in his eyes.
