Page 26 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

“Next time, I’d like it very much if you valued my time as much as you do your own.” She was still upset about Max’s late arrival. That was likely to last another ten minutes. She’d suck it up.

“Again, I’m sorry about that.” She moved them past it. “How have you been?”

“Busy. I’ve scaled back patient hours and want to spend more time on the research front.”

She smiled. “I know you love to lose yourself in a good trial.”

“We have three on the way, and I’m optimistic about the prospects of one in particular. I won’t bore you with the specifics.”

“You don’t bore me. I’m interested in hearing about your work.”

“I can’t imagine you want to talk about skin cell regrowth over lunch. Tell me about divorce. Surely, there are some dramatic stories from this week.”

“I do have one guy threatening to destroy property.”

“Barbaric. So is divorce by the way.” It was the same old tune. Not only was her mother unhappy about her journey into law, but she also hated her specialty. “Even if your father and I were at odds, we’d work it out. You don’t just quit.”

“That philosophy is not always practical or safe.”

She shrugged and sipped her water with fresh lemon.

“People abuse the option. That’s my opinion.

We’ll take the bread service, please.” She told the server.

They paused to order the rest of their meal, and Max took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next hour of what would probably be small talk mixed with incremental judgment about various aspects of her life.

“I do have one piece of news,” her mother said once they were alone. She pursed her lips, which was a tell that she was uncomfortable.

“All right.”

“It seems that I’ll be the patient. At least for a little while.”

Max frowned. “You’ll be the patient. I don’t understand. Does that mean you’re sick?” The idea was so foreign. She’d never known her mother to have so much as a bad cold. She was immune to everything.

“It seems the cancer doctor has cancer.” She shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips as she raised her glass for another sip.

“That’s not funny. I can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“I most certainly am. I was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer last month and will meet with my doctor quite soon.”

“And you’re just now telling me?” Max was as stunned as she’d ever been. “After a month?”

“Three weeks. I needed time to organize my life, my thoughts, and prepare for what’s ahead. I’ve done that and here we are.”

“Is it treatable?”

“Yes. The treatment plan is very sound, and I have every reason to believe my doctor’s protocol will go according to plan and we’ll put this behind us.” She delivered the information with the same matter-of-fact calm she would her afternoon grocery list.

“I’m so sorry,” Max said. It was all she had. “If you’re scared, that’s okay, Mom.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“You don’t have to be brave for me.”

“I’m not.” She sat taller. “I’m realistic. I’ve seen the data. My chances of overcoming this obstacle are favorable, and I’ll lean into the sentiment.”

Max blinked, unsure whether to mimic her stoicism or shake her mother until a shred of emotion eked out.

Surely, she was feeling something . “Mom, this brand of news would probably be a lot for any person. It’s a lot for me right now, so I can only imagine how it must feel for you, someone used to being on the other side of the prescription pad. ”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She placed a hand on the table. “I was brought up to be strong. And I will be. Oh, and here are our entrees.” She smiled politely at the server and her approaching salad.

As the chicken tagine that Max no longer wanted was placed in front of her, she looked to her right and absorbed the room’s activity.

People were dining casually as if it were any other afternoon.

In fact, she’d been doing the same just five minutes ago.

She swallowed, forced herself to think logically, and press on, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding uncomfortably, that her world didn’t feel wildly chaotic, upside down, and, quite frankly, overwhelming.

She and her mother had a rocky relationship, but no amount of interpersonal clashing could topple the tether she felt to her family.

“What do you need?”

“Grandchildren?” her mother said with a sly smile.

“You still have your sense of humor, I see.” Max sat back in her chair, ready to absorb and regroup. This was no longer lunch; it was the two of them going into battle. “What do you need today? Next week?”

The smile dimmed on her mother’s lips. “Maybe a ride to my treatment if I’m not feeling well. Your father will help some, but he doesn’t have the stomach for hospitals. Never has.”

“Of course. Do you have a schedule you can send me?”

She reached into her bag beneath the table and produced a folded, printed copy with Max’s name written on the outside.

Her hand shook slightly as she handed it across the table.

She’d come prepared. Max had to wonder if the schedule would have remained in the bag had she not asked for it.

Her mother’s stiff pride had always eclipsed everything else, including logic.

As they moved into this more difficult season, Max would have to figure out how to break through somehow.

They had to be able to communicate freely.

“Thank you,” she said, looking it over. “I can clear my schedule on Monday afternoons. That should knock out a good portion of these infusion days.”

Her mother nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I know your calendar is so full, and I hate being in the way.”

“But this is important. Would you clear your schedule for me?”

“Easily.” She frowned as if the question was ridiculous. “You’re my child.”

“And you’re my mother. So, you get it.”

Another nod. Acceptance.

They ate mostly in silence, Max lost in a jumble of raw feelings she swallowed in the presence of a woman who looked down on emotion and viewed it as a weakness. Finally, when the credit card slip was returned to them, her mother met her gaze before signing. “I’m turning sixty-five this year.”

“I know.” She offered a soft smile.

“I think I’m going to have a party.”

“You should. I’ll help.” Milestones like that one seemed much more poignant now.

Time was no longer something she could take for granted.

It wasn’t just moving forward—it was quite possibly running out .

And for the first time, Max wondered if there was still enough of it left to bridge the distance between them.