Truth or Consequences

chapter 3

As I shower Sunday morning, I think of Felix and what an incredible time I had with him. It's weird to think of the circles he might travel in. He might not be famous, but he seems to have a lot of connections. We had made lo- nope, we had sex after breakfast and slept a little more. When I opened my eyes, we were fully cuddled into each other. Arms and legs tangled together. I took the time to study his body and trace tattoos I didn't have time to notice before.

I decided my two favorites are on each of his arms. One is culinary themed: a knife cutting vegetables, colorful and slightly pixelated on his right forearm, and the other is a black and grey forest scene on his left bicep.

When he opens his eyes, I see him start to study me as well. He notices that I have a couple of little tattoos as well. He thumbs the sunflower I have on my ribs and declares it as his favorite. I tell him my younger brother and I both have it; we got them when he turned 18.

And then he left. Not before kissing him as if my life depended on it...

He never did ask for my number, which hurt worse than I thought it would. Even though it's what I thought I wanted, it kind of sucks. My brain is so wrapped around caring for others that I can't even distinguish what I want. Of course, I'd love to find the love of my life... and it is so easy being with Felix. I could fall so hard for him. But I don't think I should. He needs someone uncomplicated. So now I'm giving myself a pep talk and getting ready to see my mom. No regrets; life is awesome.

Every Sunday, Mom and I have lunch together, and sometimes my brother, Marty, gets to join via Skype. Marty is in the Air Force. So we don't get to see him in person that often, but I love it when we can Skype. He reaches out when he can, but it's hard, and I miss him.

I'm not always sure how he's dealing with Mom's diagnosis; sometimes, when we chat, it's just silly selfies and memes. But I'm beyond happy he has a 'family' where he is since Dad split not long after Marty was born. And according to Marty- 'mom's always been sick'. Which in his perspective, I guess she has been, but it's different now. I mean, I've always been more involved, but I worry he doesn't see how bad things are. Especially when Mom always puts on a happy face for him.

I leave my building and walk to the building across the street. Moving my mom to my neighborhood was one of our best ideas. Her breast cancer returned aggressively, metastatic, and slowly robbing her of life. She was first diagnosed when I was in high school, and Marty was in elementary school. We thought she was free and clear. For so many years, we were right. This time we were wrong.

I don't know how long she had that backache but like many strong women... We put up with more than we have to. About nine months ago, in January, the doctor said her cancer was so aggressive that he wasn't sure she'd survive the year. So we moved her close to me, almost to my building, but Mom wanted me to have some kind of normal life in my 20s. So we found her a place in the building across the street with a nice view where she could look out and see the world go by.

She had decided not to go through with chemo this go around as the doctor said it would only prolong her life six months at best, and she didn't want to feel 'that poison' in her body before she died. She did take Tamoxifen, hoping to slow the growth or even reduce some of the tumors.

I helped with whatever I could so she would have the least amount of stress. Usually, that was grocery shopping, picking up meds, or whatever other errands. And, of course, our Sunday lunches.

"So I couldn't sleep Friday night." She says after we hug and get settled on the couch.

"Oh yeah? More pain? You know you can take what you need... I wrote out when and what you can take on your meds chart."