Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Dallas?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness, I don’t remember the last time you actually called me. I usually have to chase you down for weeks to get you on the phone.”
Did she have to scold me at the beginning of every conversation? It made me feel ten years old again. “Yeah, I know.”
“Your brother said he’s been trying to reach you too. Did you change your number or something?”
“No. Just been busy.” Unable to sit still, I walked around the side of the house and began to pace up and down the driveway. I could hear the shower running through the open bathroom window.
“Doing what?”
“Working.”
“Oh, really? Where?”
My headache intensified. “At the tattoo shop, Mom. Same place I’ve been for the past few years.”
“Oh. When you said working, I thought you meant you’d gotten a real job. But what can you expect when you drop out of college?”
I pressed my lips together. In my mother’s mind, tattoos were for “lowlifes and inmates” and “people who don’t know any better,” and tattoo artist was not a real profession because I didn’t have to wear a suit and tie or even a uniform to work.
But those were not arguments I wanted to have again.
“Listen, Mom. I’ve got some news.”
“What kind of news?”
This was the part I was dreading. I was pretty sure my mother had majored in overreacting at college (with a double minor in snobbery and playing the victim), and I could see her freaking out about this and then throwing a massive fit that I hadn’t said anything to her yet, but my brother already knew. I had to tell her something, though.
“I’m going to Boston for a consultation with a neurosurgeon Finn knows.”
Silence. “A consultation with a neurosurgeon? Why?”
“Because I’ve been having some headaches.”
“What kind of headaches? Migraines?”
“Kind of, but medication hasn’t helped. And I had some tests done, which indicated there might be something else wrong.”
“Like what? Why do I feel like you’re not giving me the whole story here, Dallas? Why do I feel like I’m the last to know what’s really going on?”
“Look, I’ll know more after I talk to the doctor in Boston, okay?”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. How could you just drop this on me right in the middle of a Saturday? I’m supposed to have lunch with a friend today, and now all I’ll do is fret about this!”
I bit my tongue and took a deep breath. “My appointment is on Tuesday. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“And how long has Finn known about this?”
“A couple weeks.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“Like I said, I’ve been busy, and I really don’t want anyone to worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Something about this isn’t right, Dallas. I want to talk to Finn and find out what’s really going on.”
Because of course, Finn would know more about my own head than I would. But I didn’t argue, because I wanted to end this conversation and call my brother before she did. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mom.”
She was still talking when I ended the call. I hit Finn’s name in my recents, glad when he picked up right away.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“How’s the trip going? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I decided to fly, and I stopped in Detroit to see a friend. Listen, I talked to Mom.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I sort of told her the truth and sort of didn’t. I told her about the headaches and the tests, and I told her that I was coming to Boston to meet with a surgeon you know.”
“You didn’t tell her about the tumor?”
“No.”
“Shit, Dallas, now she’s calling me.”
“I figured that would happen. Don’t tell her anything else.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Say that it’s my fucking business, not yours.”
Finn exhaled loudly. “Have you given any more thought to treatment?”
“I haven’t decided anything yet.”
“I was thinking, if Dr. Acharya agrees to do the surgery, you could stay with us a few weeks.”
“I haven’t decided on the surgery yet, Finn. And I don’t want you to tell Mom about it because then she’ll start pressuring me, too.”
“Because she’ll want to save your life, like I’m trying to do!” Finn exploded. “This doesn’t have to be a death sentence, Dallas. I don’t understand you at all.”
“What is so hard to understand about wanting to control what happens to my fucking body?”
“Do you want to suffer, is that it? Are you still trying to prove how badass you are? Or do you think you deserve this somehow?”
“Fuck you, Finn,” I said, louder than I should have. Some guy was doing yard work next door and glanced over his shoulder at me. But my brother’s words were hitting a nerve.
“I’m serious, Dallas. I’ve been sitting here trying to wrap my brain around this for weeks now. Wondering if you’re looking at this as one final ‘fuck you’ to everyone who cares about you and wants to help, or if beneath all that ink and attitude, you’re just scared and don’t want to show it.”