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Mom's POV

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WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE OFFENSIVE TO RELIGIOUS AUDIENCE MEMEBERS. IT CONTAINS QUESTIONING ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT GOD EXISTS AND THE OUTCOME IS NOT ENTIRELY SIMILAR TO THOSE WHO HAVE A FAITH. IF YOU CHOSE NOT TO READ THIS CHATER I WILL HAVE A SUMMARY AT THE END EXPLAINING WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CHAPTER SO YOU CAN STAY ON TRACK WITH THE STORY. HOWEVER THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CALL OUT ANY RELIGIONS OR SAY ANY ARE WRONG, IT JUST TALKS ABOUT GOD.

God.

What an interesting proposition, isn't he?

To believe that one or two or however many exists, and to pledge your life on that belief, is a lot to accept.

But I owe the big man in the sky.

I owe him for the life of my daughter.

But in a way, he also owes me for putting that dreaded disease inside my child's body.

I assume we are square now.

Neither one of us owes the other anything.

I wonder what led people to believe in him in the first place.

Perhaps it is because no one else knew what the basis of life on Earth was, and assumed someone had to have placed us here.

Or perhaps, like everything else, there is no reason.

There is no reason for my daughter's cancer. There is no reason for existing. There is no reason why I am, despite the fact that the cancer is gone forever, feeling more depressed than I ever did before.

I don't like owing anyone anything, especially not an all powerful being that lives up in the sky and supposedly controls what happens here on Earth.

And if he does control everything and everyone, then why can't he control his goddamned cancer and keep it away from my child!?

It's all part of God's plan, they say. Well what is his plan? And why does it involve hurting my baby?

And why am I still stuck on this, although the cancer is gone. Why do I still struggle with believing in him, but at the same time can't let go of the idea of him. Why am I so stuck in the middle?

My life was going well until God messed with it. I was a math teacher. Math was reliable and I could always count on it. Now I can't count on anything or anyone, let alone myself or some make belief creature up in the sky who likes to kill off children and destroy lives.

Perhaps there is a God, but he isn't an angelic being that rules heaven, but instead is a destructor who put us here to destroy.

How else can I explain the constant Wars being fought and lost? How else can one explain the holocaust and the 6 million Jews that died in the crulest of ways? How else can I explain my daughter, on her deathbed, barely making it into a recovery?

Perhaps God isn't Satan, nor is he the common belief of God himself, but is instead a martyr for all that life is. Sadness and pain. Happiness and hugs. All rolled into one.

God is the destroyer of lives, but also the father of them. God is an evil being, but also an insane genius. God is what made Aubrey sick, but he is also what made her better.

And then if I reverse it.

God is the father of lives, but also the destroyer of them. God is an insane genius, but also an evil being. God is what made Aubrey better, but is also what made her sick.

If you think about it, and I mean truly think about it, God is a paradox. He exists, but doesn't exist. He is kind, but he isn't kind. And he is there in times of need, but also not there in times of need.

God is everything and nothing all at once.

And then there is the final alternative, and perhaps the worst one. Perhaps there is a God, but he doesn't control what happens here on the planet. Perhaps he just oversees it.

But I shake away that thought, because it is easier to blame someone for all the troubles I have.

*****

I arrive at the house that isn't a home.

I pull up in the car that belongs to me, but isn't mine.

And I walk up the driveway jiggling the keys on my key ring. I open the front door and instantly feel like something is missing.

I don't remember the last time the house was empty. I don't remember the last time I was here, in this place that isn't my own, for much more than an hour.

Home to change, hospital, grocery store, home to make my husband dinner, back to the hospital, Chemo, x-rays, Chemo, check ups, blood tests, home to change, hospital, grocery store, home to make breakfast, back to the hospital, Chemo, x-rays, Chemo, check ups, blood tests.

That was my life up until now.

Home to change, hospital, grocery store, home to make my husband dinner, back to the hospital, Chemo, x-rays, Chemo, check ups, blood tests, home to change, hospital, grocery store, home to make breakfast, back to the hospital, Chemo, x-rays, Chemo, check ups, blood tests.

Over and over. A repetitive task. Always busy. Always distracted. A good plan, if you ask me.

Never focused on my life. Only on my daughter. Only on my husband, never on me.

Now I am by myself. No one I can focus on but me. Nothing to do except sit down and let the memories drown me. Let myself surrender to the memories of Aubrey falling. Of her nearly dying.

And I am alone.

Aubrey is at school.

And I am alone.

My husband doesn't love me anymore, since I am never there for him.

And I am alone.

I don't have any friends, since the ones I did have, had drifted away through the years.

And I am alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

*****

"Hey honey!" I say when Aubrey walks in the door. She wanted to walk home from school.

"Hey, mom." She replies. Then immediately she runs up the stairs.

I find myself running after her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good!" She says chirply. She looks good. In fact, she looks happy.

"Then why did you storm off?" I asked.

"I didn't storm off," she laughs like it is the most ridiculous thing, "I just went to my room."

"Oh. Okay." I say, and watch her close her bedroom door. I slowly walk down the stairs and sit at the dining room table. The one thing on my mind is why I feel so sad when she is so happy?

I sit and I wonder for an hour. I come to the conclusion, that, unlike what I tell Aubrey, I don't know the answer to everything.

*****

We sit at the dinner table, eating pizza. I forgot to make dinner, so we had to order out.

My husband sits next to me and my daughter, opposite. I have something to say, but I am scared to say it.

"How was your day, dad?" Aubrey asks.

Ethan shrugs. "The usual. My boss shouted at me. I shouted at my employees. Someone got hired, someone fired. Forgot my lunch at home so I got a burger."

"Oh." Aubrey replies. I have noticed she is always the first to ask about her dad's day, not him about hers.

"How about you?" Ethan asks.

"Not bad." She replied, "Everyone was very friendly." She laughed like she had some sort of inside joke with herself.

I open my mouth, about to say what I am dreading to say. Then I pause. Aubrey is happy. Ethan is happy. Everyone is happy. Just because I am unhappy, doesn't mean I should make those I love unhappy as well.

But my happiness has always been my last priority, as it should be. Yet, my mouth disagrees believing that for once I should choose me. Which is why I say, "I don't think you should go to school."

Aubrey's pizza slice drops on her plate. My husband finally looks up from his phone. What I said was the wrong thing, but I said it, so now I must stick to my guns.

"I'm sorry, what?" Aubrey asks, disbelief coloring her tone.

"I just mean," I pause, trying to think of a plausible excuse for my sudden outburst, "maybe it isn't safe for you to be going to school so soon after your recovery. We don't want the cancer to come back, do we?"

"That's not how it works, mom!" Aubrey screeches, hysterical already. She is probably right, but I am not letting this go.

"I think we should ask Dr. Michelle." I say.

"No!"

"Yeah. Honey, I am your mother and I know best for you."

"No! You really don't!" She yells back.

"I think we should ask."My husband, that took my side, has a firm, steady tone.

Aubrey glares at her father, then reluctantly sighs. "Fine. Excuse me." She stands up, puts her plate in the sink, the pizza slice unfinished, and rushes off to her room.

I turn to stare at my husband, who is back to giving his devoted attention to his cellphone, and sigh.

Why do I feel so sad? Is there any reason for me to ruin the happiness I so long craved for my child to have? There isn't any logical reason for this, but maybe I am right. Maybe Dr. Michelle, although not a mother, will side with the mother in this situation. Maybe there is hope that Aubrey will come around. Maybe there is a chance that I can home school her and that she will want to stay with me.

So, I take out my phone, dial the oh-so familiar number of Dr. Michelle, and hold it to my ear.

She picks up on the third ring. "Hello?" Her raspy, but beautifully light voice answers.

"Hi, Dr. Michelle. It's me, Maria." I say, trying my best to sound happy.

"Hey, Maria. What's up?" She asks. I learned a long time ago that there is no need to deal with the hospital secretaries if you have your doctors phone number and can dial them whenever you need to.

"My husband and I were talking, and we feel that it would be best for Aubrey not to go to school," I stretch the truth, "so we called you."

"I see." Her voice is disapproving, making my determination falter.

"Can we make an appointment for Saturday, at 1, and discuss this?" I ask.

"Of course, but I don't think there is much to discuss." Uh oh. I take it that means she doesn't agree with me. But I am Aubrey's mother and I know best.

"No, I suppose there isn't." I say. "Especially considering I have the final say on the matter."

"Maria," she pauses and takes a deep breath, "let's discuss this in person."

"Alright." And then I hang up the phone. I always liked Dr. Michelle. She was a kind and understanding person, and I suppose she still is, but she needs to side with me on this. She has to.

I hear my husband's deep laugh in the kitchen, as I start to head up the stairs. Once I near Aubrey's bedroom, I lean into her door and press my ear against the cool wood.

Silence.

I suppose she is mad at me for my decision, but I suppose a lot of things. I suppose that I will die, and I supposed that she would die before me. I suppose that my husband doesn't love me, and I supposed I didn't love him either. Things can change. Some stay the same and others melt away over the years.

And I can only hope that my daughter's hatred for me will melt away.

I can only hope that my sadness will be distracted by other belongings.

I can only hope my husband will go back to work and I will rarely have to see him.

And then I realize what I am truly hoping for, and it makes me shudder at the thought.

I am truly hoping for things to be the way they were, and I am a sick, twisted person, for hoping for that.

So I sulk into the room I share with my husband. I sulk into the bathroom, where I try to clean away the sadness from my face, with the cool splashes of water from my sink.

Then my eyes sneak over to the medicine cabinet. Before I know it, before I can command them to do so, my hands open the cabinet and reach for my husbands prescribed sleeping pills.

Before I can tell my mouth to open it does, and my hands quickly unscrew the cap and pop 2 into my mouth.

My feet shuffle to the bed, without me taking a shower or brushing my teeth. I climb in and cover myself with the warm blanket. I stuff the pill box under my pillow and wait for the pills to take effect.

My last coherent thought, before I am knocked out by their overwhelming power, is that my sadness is a result of God's anger. And you never want to piss off a deity.

*******

SUMMARY: MARIA TALKS ABOUT GOD AND HOW SHE ISN'T SURE HE EXISTS AND IF HE DOES MAYBE HE DOESN'T CONTROL THE WORLD. SHE FEELS DEPPRESSED THAT HER DAUGHTER IS AWAY FROM HER AND THINKS HER HUSBAND DOESN'T LOVE HER. SHE CALLS AUBREY'S DOCTOR, DR. MICHELLE AND MAKES AN APPOINTMENT SAYING SHE DOESN'T THINK AUBREY SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO GO TO SCHOOL SO SOON AFTER HER CANCER.