“I couldn’t say it on the phone,” she whispered. “I tried. I just kept thinking, look what your son did, and I couldn’t finish the sentence.”
Coach Daniels bent down.
“Diane,” I said, moving closer to my friend.
“I’ve been so jealous of him, Rachel. I sit there, I can’t do anything, and he just walks in, and she’s lively again.”
I pulled her into my arms right there in the doorway. She sobbed into my shoulder, and I held on tighter.
“We’re not rivals,” I said. “We’re in this together.”
***
Six weeks later, Lily’s scans came back, and a miracle had happened: the treatment was working!
“We’re not rivals.”
***
Diane and I sat on my porch that evening, drinking tea and watching the sun go down.
Aaron’s hair was growing back in soft, dark patches. So was Lily’s.
I used to think I was raising a good boy. That day in the hospital, I realized my son had quietly grown into a good young man, and he’d pulled the rest of us up with him.
shaved his head for your daughter. He did it out of love.”
My friend stopped so suddenly that I almost walked into her. Her eyes were red, but her jaw was set.
“It isn’t just the shaving thing, Rachel. It’s what he did next.”
“Aaron has barely slept in months. He brings her soup. He sits in waiting rooms doing his homework on his lap.”
“Lily is a private girl,” she snapped, her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “Now the entire oncology floor is talking. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a story about my daughter.”
“I almost walked into her.”
I felt my own temper start to rise, hot and unfamiliar between us.
“You called me as if something terrible had happened. I drove here thinking she was… I don’t even want to say what I was thinking.”
“Maybe you should’ve raised Aaron to think before he acts.”
I stepped back, stunned.
