When Blood Collides : Barbara's New Plans by Spitfire |
Previously: I bring cake and presents to Bobby’s house. My sister has flown down for a belated birthday party, the last one she’ll ever have. Barbara relates the story of how the doctor opened her up to put in a stent and discovered cancer cells that had been growing for twelve years. Chapter 70 ends: "So how long did he give you?" I asked. "Two good months, two not-so -good, and then I could choose to go into Hospice or stay at home for palliative care. My goal is to stay well enough to see the two doctorial students I’ve been mentoring for the past year, graduate in May." "I remember Mom once said, "You were so smart, you could succeed at anything you tried." "Really?" Barb sat up straighter and brightened. "Our mother said that about me?" Her reaction surprised me. How could she doubt that Mom wouldn’t be proud of her? "Hey, Bobby." Frank turned to my nephew. "I'd like to see that new tax program you have on your computer. If it's not too complicated, maybe I'll buy it." "Me too, Shari." Barb took my hands and squeezed them gently. "I’m grateful you and Frank have looked after Bobby. I just hope his father will visit more often after I’m gone." "You know that John invited Bobby to live with him." "Yes. Norm said he could move in with us too. Bobby said no to both of us. He hates snow." "He has a support group here." I stood up and kissed her forehead. "Guys and girls he met in sports bars. They go with him to hockey and baseball games." My sister just climbed four rungs on my ladder. Finally, her son came first. I kissed her cheek and sat down again. A predictable reaction, I thought. Barb was a perfectionist and liked to take control. This was a biggie. Compliments didn’t come easy to my sister. She never commented on my clothes or my accomplishments whereas I always praised her many educational achievements. I switched the topic the conversation to our childhood and teen years. "We both had a crush on Billy Doull —" I started. "Our summer love while staying at the cottage." Barb chuckled. "He was so cute and so clueless. How old were we? Ten and a half and twelve? "We both said 'yuck' and swore to never have kids. I wonder when we found out the truth?" "I don't know, but maybe that story explains why I broke out in hives when Brian Cooper asked me out in twelfth grade. I said yes and then canceled." "You think?" Barbara frowned and then smiled. "I'm over it now." For the next twenty minutes we talked about our youth. She brought up memories of Dad but never mentioned Mom. I knew she still held a grudge but didn’t want to discuss that. Anyway, Barb was dying. What difference would it make? Boy, was I wrong.
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