Page 100 of The Compass Series

CONNOR - TEN YEARS OLD

M om was trying not to cry when she told me about the cancer.

I didn’t even know what that was, but I knew it was bad if she was trying not to tell me. I knew she’d been sick, but I didn’t know how bad. I thought she just had a bad cold or something with how she was always coughing stuff up.

“Do you understand, Connor? Do you understand what I’m telling you?” she said as a few tears fell down her cheeks. She brushed them away fast, trying to pretend they never happened, but I’d already seen them.

“Are you dying?” I asked, feeling like my insides were twisted up in knots. My tummy had hurt ever since Mom said that word to me. Cancer. It was hurting her. It was making her want to cry, but she was acting like she didn’t because she didn’t want me to cry. Even though I wanted to fall apart.

I want to fall apart.

But I couldn’t because Mom had already had to cry enough when Dad left us, and whenever I cried, she cried. I didn’t want her to do that anymore, so I couldn’t do it either. I had to be strong for her.

“No, sweetheart,” she said, placing her hands against my cheeks. “No, I’m not dying. We are going to fight this, okay? We are going to fight this and win.”

I sniffled a bit and nodded, wanting to be strong, but I was just a kid, and sometimes kids hurt. I gave her a hug and held her tight. Then I pulled back. “Can I go to bed?”

“Are you tired already? It’s kind of early.”

“Yeah. I just want to go to sleep.”

She frowned but nodded.

I went to my bedroom and closed my door.

I lay in my bed, put my pillow over my face so Mom couldn’t hear me, and then I started crying.

My whole body shook as I kept thinking about Mom being sick.

She couldn’t be sick. I needed her. She was my bestest friend.

I couldn’t handle something being wrong with her, and I hated that I couldn’t fix it.

I should’ve been able to help her, fix her, be the man of the house.

I couldn’t stop crying like a stupid kid, and I knew I had to do better because Mom needed me to be strong, but I was scared, and I didn’t know what I’d ever do if she wasn’t okay. I needed her to be okay. I needed her to be okay. I needed ? —

“Connor Ethan,” Mom said, walking into my room. I kept my pillow over my face because I knew if she saw me, she’d know I was sad, and I didn’t want her to know. I had to be strong for her. For us. I had to because Dad was gone now, and there was no one else to be strong.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Mom said, walking over to my bed and sitting beside me. She tugged at the pillow, and I tugged back.

“No!”

“Connor, please. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not! It’s not okay! It can’t be okay if you’re not okay!” I cried, my tears still falling, soaking my pillowcase. I sounded like a big baby, but I didn’t know how to sound like anything else. Mom was sick. She wasn’t okay, and that made me really scared.

She managed to remove my pillow, and she set it on the other side of the bed. I pushed myself up to sit, pulled my knees into my chest, and wrapped my arms around my legs.

“Look at me, Con.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at her because it would just remind me that she wasn’t okay.

But she made me. She placed her hands on my cheeks and forced me to look her in the eyes. She then took my hands and placed them against her face.

“I’m okay. You see? You feel my face? You feel my skin? I’m still here, and I’m okay. Do you understand? I am okay. You are okay. We are going to be okay. Do you understand?”

I nodded as I kept sniffling.

“Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. I’m a big kid.” Even though I wanted her to stay with me that night. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to wake up in the morning and see that she was still okay.

She smiled. “Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?”

I shrugged. “Will it make you feel better?”

“Absolutely. I think I need you tonight.”

“Okay then, but we’ll go in your room ’cause your bed is bigger.”

“Sounds good to me.” She wiped my tears away and kissed my forehead.

We headed to her bedroom, and it wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

After she was sleeping, I snuck out of bed and went to grab her laptop.

I went into her closet and closed the door so the light from the computer wouldn’t wake her up.

I pulled up the search engine on the internet and began typing with one finger at a time as my heart pounded hard in my chest.

What is cancer?

What happens if my mom dies?

How long will my mom live with cancer?

Is my mom dying?

Each word I typed made my tummy hurt even more. If Mom died, who would take care of me? Where would I go? How could I live without her?

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t live without her.

After typing too many words and feeling even more sad than before, I climbed back into bed with Mom and wrapped my arms around her. I laid my head on her chest to make sure her heart was still beating and her chest was still rising and falling.

“Mom,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me. Tears started falling from my eyes as I lay against her. “Please don’t do it, okay? Please…please don’t die.”