Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 23

"Mum. Mum, look at me," I spun her around gently, gazing into her eyes that she gave me. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she looked so weak, so pale, so tired, I wondered how I could've missed it before. My mum had smoked on and off for the last twenty years. She would quit, and then start it up again when she got stressed, then quit when things were good, and the cycle would start all over again. The only problem was, when she was stressed, she smoked a lot. I remembered nights when she'd come to me to give me a kiss, and I could smell the tobacco on her breath. My mum worked at an office, and basically all her friends there smoked on breaks, so she was always tempted to socially.

"Damian," my mother had whispered my name, a name she had picked from a Saint. Ha, I was no saint. But to my mother, I was.

"Mum, what was that?" I could hear my anger bubbling beneath my words. I was angry, yes, because Mum had partly brought this on herself for all those nights she'd smoke ten in a row, but I was angry because she had also hid this from me, because no way was this the first time. First times did not happen like this.

"Damian, you're going to be late for school," Mum had said, as if it were any other day.

I shook my head, gritting my jaw. "No, Mum, I'm not going to school. Not when you're like this. How long has this been happening, huh? How long have you been lying to me?"

Mum's brows were knitted together with a familiar expression that had torn through my heart. Hurt. "I don't want you to worry about me, Damian."

I snorted. "Then what do you want me to do – pretend this never happened? Pretend I didn't just see you cough up blood like it was no big deal?" I had let out a mirthless laugh, and I knew I was hurting my mother even more with my attitude, but I was not taking bullshit. I had had enough of it to last me a lifetime. "Mum, we're going to the hospital, whether you like it or not."

"Damian, that's not –"

I grabbed her wrist, interrupting her. "No, Mum, don't argue with me. Let's go."

I stormed out of the kitchen, picking up Mum's car keys. She had her own car, but she said she was going to give it to me. It was a blue Subaru, not too bad, but I'd rather red. I was still on my learner's permit, which sucked, so Mum drove us to the hospital, coughing every few seconds. She had a tissue held to her mouth, and I could see the wet blood through its transparency, even if Mum was trying to hide it. It made me sick to think she was planning on not telling anyone.

We entered the ER, because this bloody well was an emergency. Healthy people didn't cough up blood. Healthy people didn't smoke.

Mum got a blood test. They also did other tests on her. I was in the waiting room, fidgeting and counting the minutes. I thought about Mariam, knowing she'd be mad at me for not showing up to the presentation. The fact that she would be angry at me made me pissed. For once, I wasn't skipping school for fun. For once, I wasn't to blame, but I would be blamed, and the thought of that made me want to punch a wall.

"Cancer," the doctor had said the word like he was Eddie McGuire on the Millionaire hot seat, announcing that the answer the contestant had chosen was incorrect. But this time, for me, my answer was correct. And I had never wanted to be more wrong in my life.

"It isn't curable," the doctor had continued. "But we can treat it."

"It hasn't spread yet, but if we don't start the chemo now, it will."

"There will be a surgery to remove the cancer after some chemo is done to target the cells. The chemo will weaken her, though."

"Can you fix her?" I had asked, feeling numb.