All I Need - A.D. Justice Page 0,2
college classes. She worked on her homework at night, and I helped Mom around the house. Juliana was sharp as a tack, so she didn’t need much help with her schoolwork, but I was there when she asked. After they both went to bed, I stayed up writing code for my apps until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
Success was within my grasp; I could feel it in my bones. Though I still wasn’t quite in the sweet spot, I knew it was a matter of when rather than if.
By that time, Mom’s rapidly deteriorating health forced her to take a medical leave from her job. The owners rewarded her years of dedication to them by keeping her on the payroll as a regular salaried employee, easing part of her fears. Her paychecks continued as usual, and her employer even absorbed all her medical expenses from that point forward. Her coworkers were more than willing to help in so many other ways it renewed my faith in humankind.
But somehow, there was always one more shoe to drop.
“Rod, come in here with me.” Mom’s progressively weaker voice worried me more than I shared with her. Though I kept the fear in me hidden, I knew it couldn’t be a good sign. I’d missed her symptoms before the diagnosis, so I became hypervigilant about watching her for new ones.
“Yeah, Mom? Do you need something?” I sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
She reached over and took my hand. “It’s time, baby.”
“Time for what, Mom?”
She was not saying what I thought she was saying. I wasn’t ready to lose her, to face life without her, to say goodbye—any of it.
“We have to decide what happens to Juliana. The treatments aren’t helping anymore. The cancer is spreading. It’s now a matter of time, and I’m choosing quality over quantity. I want to spend my last days making memories with my kids, not hunched over a toilet bowl before crawling back into bed again. It’s time to accept the inevitable.”
“No, Mom, you can’t give up now. We’re so close. My apps are almost ready to launch. I’ll be able to—”
“Rod, you’ve worked so hard day and night. You thought I didn’t notice you burning the midnight oil, but I saw everything. My health condition is not your responsibility or your fault, sweetheart. You couldn’t have prevented it or changed the outcome if you had a billion dollars. All the money in the world can’t save me now.
“We knew the cancer had already metastasized to my spleen when I started treatments. That means my bloodstream had already carried it all over my body. Maybe we would’ve caught it earlier if I’d recognized the random symptoms and gone to the doctor as soon as they started. But there’s no guarantee that would’ve changed anything. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a better childhood. If I could’ve shielded you from all this pain and grief, I gladly would’ve done it. No matter what happens in the coming days, remember I love you more than anything, baby.”
“No, Mom. Don’t you dare think like that. You gave me the best childhood. All my favorite memories are the times I’ve spent with you and Juliana. You taught me everything I know. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you. We haven’t had it easy, but I wouldn’t trade anything for our life, and I couldn’t ask for a better mother. I love you so much, Mom.”
My face wet with tears, I leaned over and hugged her, ignoring the sensation of her ribs sticking out of her skin when my fingers skimmed over her shirt.
“Do you still want to keep Juliana with you?” she whispered in my ear during our embrace.
“Absolutely. No one else gets to torture my little sister but me.” I felt her chuckle against me, and I was relieved I brought her at least a little levity during such a terrible time.
“All right, baby. She overheard us talking about it before, so she made sure I knew she wanted to live with you, not your grandparents. If you’re sure, I’ll call the lawyer tomorrow and start the process right away.”
“You’re giving me guardianship right now?” Theory and reality are two completely different animals. Even after our conversation, I thought we had more time. I needed more time.
“Yes, baby. It’ll make the transition smoother when…”
“Don’t say it, Mom. Don’t even say the words. My birthday is coming up next week and Juliana’s is