“What’s wrong?” I asked, dropping my book bag to the painted cement floor and walking over to her. “Are you sick?” I asked, unable to sit down. I needed her to ease my mind. I had a million different scenarios going through my head.
Momma motioned to the chair behind me. “Sit,” she said.
I shook my head. “No. Tell me what’s wrong,” I demanded. The worry and concern had exploded into full-blown fear. This wasn’t right. The last time she had acted like this, my best friend in kindergarten had been hit by a car riding her bike and died. That alone told me something was terribly wrong.
“I got a lot to say, and you standing there ain’t gonna make me talk faster. So sit your ass down,” she said.
“Is someone dead?” I asked, needing to know that Rock, Trisha, and the kids were okay.
She shook her head. “No, ain’t no one dead. Now sit down,” she said, pointing to the chair again.
I noticed that the ever-present cigarette in her hand was missing. Had she lost her job? Surely not. They loved her there.
“I didn’t have no errands to run today. I had a doctor’s appointment,” she said, then cleared her throat. “It was my fifth one this month. About six weeks ago I noticed a lump in my breast when taking a shower. It was hard to feel since I have the implants, so it was pretty big when I noticed it. I got me an appointment and went in, and they had to run some tests. Today they got back the final results, that it is breast cancer, and ’cause it’s been there awhile it’s spread some. They’re gonna need to do a mastectomy, and I’ll need chemo treatments.”
I couldn’t move. All I could do was sit there and stare at her. This felt like death. This was just as bad. “Can they get it all?” I asked, unable to ask her if this would kill her. I couldn’t accept that.
She nodded. “Yeah. They can. They think I’ll be fine once they do the mastectomy and I go through chemo. They’re positive about my recovery. So don’t go worrying about that. Problem here is, I ain’t got insurance. I make too much to get government help and not enough to afford the monthly costs of it. The hospital is going to let me make monthly payments. They actually start this month because all that testing wasn’t cheap. We’re gonna have to move. We need cheaper rent. I’ll also need to find a job that I can work and make enough money to support us. My old one isn’t gonna be possible no more.”
She was going to live. That was all that mattered. I didn’t care about moving. We’d made it through hard times. Momma never let us go hungry. She’d done whatever she could to pay the bills.
Now it was my turn to take care of her. I loved my job, but it wasn’t nearly enough money. I needed something that paid more. “I’ll get a job. Something that pays well,” I told her.
She grimaced and wrung her hands in front of her. “Ever since you was a little girl, I wanted big things for you. That beauty of yours was a gift. Then you ended up with a smart head, too. That brain and those looks were meant to give you the world. You shouldn’t be here with this burden on you. I didn’t get insurance. Now I’m paying for it, and so are you.”
My momma had fought hard my entire life to be a single mom and not lean on a man for anything. She used to say you can only depend on yourself. I disagreed. She could depend on me. “I’ll use this brain and these looks to take care of us,” I assured her. “We’ll be fine. I promise. It’s time to learn to depend on someone else. I’ve got this.”
I stood up and walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her. This time I pulled her into my arms, instead of the other way around, and held her. The only person in my life who I never doubted loved me was my momma. I would do whatever I had to in order to make sure she got better. “We can do this together,” I said, more to myself than her.
My phone was ringing in the pocket of my book bag, but I ignored it. I knew it was Jason, and I would deal with him later. Right now the fact that Johanna was answering his phone was the least of my worries.
“Can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Momma said, “but you know they’ll hire you at Jugs. You’ll get top pay, and if you go that route, you’ll be safe there.”
I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself that using my body was the only way I could make the most money. Waiting tables wouldn’t be enough. The only way I could use my body to make the most money was to follow in my mother’s footsteps. I would lose Jason, though. He would never allow it, and I couldn’t let him stand in my way. My heart took another hit at the realization. Our time together would be shorter than I had imagined. But my momma’s life came first.
The easy answer was lying in my room. I could have it all paid for with one phone call to Mrs. Stone, but I would never do that. I wasn’t using Jason to fix my problem. I loved him. As much as I loved my mother, she wouldn’t want that money either. I would get money the only way I knew how.
“What if we moved farther away from the beach? About an hour or so away, the rent will be cheaper for small apartments, and we’ll be closer to the hospital. And because I’m young and I have the body, I can probably get a job at Delilah’s. It has higher-paying clientele.”
Momma looked defeated, and I hated seeing her like this. She was always so tough and ready to take on the world. “Delilah’s is the big time in that world. Hard to get a job there because they only accept the best. You’ll be hired. Probably make three to four times what I make now,” she said.
It was hard for her to accept that I was about to do what she’d worked so hard to keep me from. I wished I had another answer but I didn’t. I wouldn’t be finishing my two-year degree after all. Might as well face the fact that my future was mapped out for me a long time ago. No use in fighting it.
“That boy ain’t gonna be okay with you stripping,” Momma said.