Look out for the <>!

"Hey how was your date?" mom called out to me from the kitchen as I walked into the house later that night.

I frowned as I slipped off my shoes as I thought about how the date finished after Peter told me about California. The mood of the date shrunk, and we ended up not staying much longer, using the cold as an excuse to leave. I felt disappointed in so many ways that date could have turned out better. I could have shut my mouth. I didn't have to ask him anything, but I just couldn't help myself by adding another poor memory to that valley.

When Peter dropped me off at the door, I didn't let him come in like he normally did since there were things I needed to talk about with my parents, and I didn't want him there. It upset me that I couldn't bring my father into the conversation since he was on a business trip so I would only have mom to talk to.

"So, when were you going to tell me I had to go to California?" I asked to mom as I walked into the kitchen. I placed my hands on my hips to look tougher than I felt, wanting to stand my ground and not shrink.

Mom turned on her heels with a bowl of ice cream in her hands with a frown. Why was everyone frowning at me recently? I was told I was getting better, but when they looked at me like this, I had a hard time believing them. "I was going to get to that bridge when I had to."

I frowned at her. She knew I didn't want to go either, yet she would send me off. "You're not winning any brownie points."

"I had little choice," she sighed, as if too tired to have this conversation. She was one to talk, she forced that treatment down my throat and didn't even ask me. She didn't bother to ask how this treatment made me feel, how I rather die than live through it again. I was in agony with the treatment.

I leaned against the wall, hoping it could help me stand, since I could barely hold my own weight. The wall didn't help, and I moved to grab hold of the back of a chair to stable myself. I resisted the urge to push against my head, to ease the pounding inside my skull.

"But I told you I didn't want to go anywhere but here," I said to her with harshness in my voice.

"Clare, it won't be forever. Just a for a few days," she said in a comforting voice, as if it would convince me that it wouldn't be a big deal, that everything would work out. But I had my luck, and I knew that there was a good chance that things would not work out and this was a big deal.

Instead of fighting with her, I asked a simple question that I had floated around my mind. "And how many times do I have to go there?"

"Maybe three times. I'm not sure," she said as she put her bowl of ice cream on the counter.

I frowned at her even more. "So, I'm going to miss my senior year?" I would never be at home this year, was I? I would miss out on all the important senior activities with Peter.

"You're homeschooled Clare. What are you going to miss?" she said as her tone got harsh with me. I took a step back, not expecting that. "Don't say it, because I already know that answer. Clare, you have to think of the bigger picture. Do you want to stay here with him, or do you want years added to your life?"

I placed my hands on my hips again. It was a simple question, but the answer wasn't that easy to address. Peter wasn't the whole reason why I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to tell her the whole reason, afraid it would just make me look weak. "I don't want to go."

I didn't care if she was speaking reason to me. I felt like I should stand my ground on this regardless of what she was telling me. Fear took hold as I realized that going there would mean more suffering, but this time far from home. It terrified me that if I went, I would die there, all alone, with no one to care for me, not like they do here.

"Well, you don't have a choice in the matter. Clare, what was I going to say? I had a chance to save my daughter. Was I just going to let you die here?" she snapped at me with tears in her eyes as she got worked up over this conversation.

I held my tongue, even though I wanted to fight back. She had a point and honestly, most of me was glad she and dad agreed to have the treatment done. It was just the fear consuming me that currently controlled my actions, and my reasonable side was taking a back-seat ride on this conversation.

There was a minute of silence as my mother silently cried. As I watched her, my fear crumbled, and then I did something that I didn't think I had the guts to do. My reasonable side won over, and I took a few steps closer to her and brought her into a hug. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. That was uncalled for. I'll go. I'm just scared," I blurted out then released her.

She nodded as she cried harder in silence for reasons that I did not understand.

Before she made me cry, I turned on my heals and walked away.

<>

I forced myself to walk up the stairs, taking slow steps, unable to move any faster. Once I finally made it to my room, I saw Farrah drawing in my room. I smiled at her even though she couldn't see my smile, hoping that she never got out of the habit of hanging out in my room, even if I got better. I would always love the company she provided.

"Hey sis," I said to her as I slid my back against the wall to help me sit down. I don't think I could sit as gracefully without the wall there since my legs felt like fawn's legs at this moment.

She looked up from her drawing and smiled at me. "Hey." Her smile quickly fell off it though as she said, "I heard you shout at mom down there. So, you found out?"

Anger shot through me again like a spark, igniting everything within me. Why did everyone know except me? Were they just planning on dropping me at the airport one day without telling me anything until that moment about going to California? Oh, because that would go over so smoothly... "Yeah, I found out. Peter told me."

Farrah shrugged at me as if that wasn't a big deal. "It will only be for a few days at a time and then you'll come back."

"But what if things go so bad when I'm over there that I have to stay for a longer time, without you guys."

She shrugged again as if the answer was simple. She always had simple answers to all my seemingly difficult life problems. At the moment, it annoyed the crap out of me. However, most cases, it always made me think about how simple answers were good for a lot of troublesome problems. She always made me realize that a lot of problems were solved with simple fixes, but not this time. This time it wasn't a simple fix because cancer was never simple.

"Then we'll come to that bridge when we come to it. But I don't think that will happen."

She sounded exactly like mom, making me cringe. "And how do you know?"

"I just have this feeling. It's a positive one, a feeling that I don't think you have felt in a long time." She said and then stood up from the ground.

Her words were like a slap in the face as I sat there mouth wide open for a moment, trying to compose myself.

"It won't be that bad, Clare. You're overreacting. We're trying to save your life and this is how you treat your family? Do you know realize that mom and dad would move mountains to have you on this earth longer? I don't think you realize how much they're trying to make you happy, healthy, and live a long joyful life. You recently have been spending too much thought on yourself because Clare, life isn't always about what you want. It's not even only about you. Life is about everyone you touch, and about compromise and putting up with crap respectively when you don't get your way," she said in a tone that was so sweet it didn't seem harsh.

I tried to come up with something to say to her, but my mind went blank. She was right about all of it but I didn't want to admit it.

"Well, I'm going to a friend's place for a slumber party. I'll see you later Clare." And with that, she left the room, leaving me on the ground to wallow in her words.

Was I really being selfish? Was I spending too much thought about myself and not about others? Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to take another step back and thinking about more than just myself, but that was so hard.

Within a minute, mom came in with a bowl of ice cream in her hands, breaking me from my thoughts of self doubt. "Do you want some?" she asked, holding out the bowl to me.

I shrugged at her and took it, saying nothing. For some reason, Ice cream seemed to help as I took a bite, melting all my emotions into a puddle on the ground.

"Look, I know you're scared about this, and honestly, we're all scared. But even with just one treatment, we have seen so much improvement. I know this will be the last treatment process you'll need to do before you're well again. I can feel it. I just am asking you to be brave as you have always been," she said and kissed the top of my head. "I love you, Clare."

"I love you to mom," I said a little too numbly as I relied on the ice cream to help cool my emotions.

She kneeled down on the ground and looked at me with a frown, waiting for me to interact with her. "Look at me, all will be fine. I know it'll be." She kissed me on the cheek then got up from the floor and left me in my thoughts and bowl of ice cream.