Page 29 of The Story of You

It was glioblastoma. They were going to do surgery and some other treatment—more chemo, more radiation—but the outlook wasn’t good. Father grew some balls and told her. But she refused all treatment. They argued for the first time in forever.

Darius was angry about the new cancer but not like we thought he would be. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop and there it was.

ChapterNine

Silas – May - July 1985

No one was in the mood for a party when we got to Oliver’s first birthday, but I said fuck that. He was getting a first birthday even if I had to leave his birth parents out of it. I made him a special cake; strawberry shortcake with fresh whipped cream and banana filling.

I invited all the kids we hung out with at the swimming hole. I brought snacks and decorations. I made Darius help me. I made sure there were a few presents for him to open even though he didn’t understand the concept yet. Some of the kids brought him stuff too.

It was like Darius wanted, the three of us. He smiled for the first time since his birthday. He beamed at me in particular. “You’re a real dick sometimes Silas, but you’re a good big brother when it counts,” he told me.

That’s as big of a compliment as anyone gets from him.

I couldn’t bear Oliver not having Mother take part in his first birthday in some way, even though he’d never remember it. I brought cake and Oliver to her.

The brain cancer was supposed to take her quickly—especially without treatment—but for whatever reason, it wasn’t. She was apathetic with increasing symptoms. She was listless when we arrived with cake, but she tried. “Hey baby boy,” she said to Oliver. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

She ate the cake. “You could do something with these skills, Silas. You’re good at this.”

“Maybe I will.”

“What do you think Oliver will be?”

“Too soon to say but I promise I’ll make sure he’s whatever he wants to be.”

“Pinky swear it,” she said, holding her pinky to me.

I locked pinkies with her. “I swear it.”

It was fucking hard not to burst into tears, imagining life without her. We’d been almost losing her for a year, but now, save a miracle, it was our reality.

I didn’t want to bother approaching Father, but I did for Oliver. “I’m going to put him to bed soon. You want to wish him a happy birthday, sir?”

I wore a large sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. I didn’t care about the “agreement” anymore. I covered up and tied my hair back.

He rubbed Oliver’s blond head. “Happy Birthday, son.” Father was still handsome, but in the month since Mother’s diagnosis, he was deteriorating too.

Whatever he had been up to before had ended. He took some time off to be with her. I didn’t like having him home so much. I had my schedules and my systems for everyone. When he was here, he wanted to be in charge. He micro-managed and threw things off.

He became such a pain in the ass, I snapped at him one day. “Can you let me handle it? I do just fine around here without you all the time.”

“Excuse me? Did you forget whom you were talking to?”

I clenched my fists. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’m just tired and worried about Mama.”

He studied me. “We can all use a little feedback, Silas, no matter how good we think we are. Remember that.”

“Yes, Father.”

Eventually, he had to return to work, and I was fucking grateful. Not just for my sake. He and Darius fought like rabbits, trying to rip each other’s fur out. Darius was twelve so he lost. He was spanked and sent to his room a lot. At least he never got what I got but I was worried it was going there so I tried to get to Darius first.

One night when I could tell he was gonna go after Father for something, I grabbed him by the wrist, turned him, and laid a couple of crisp smacks to his ass. “Don’t say whatever it is you were going to say,” I hissed at him.

He glared at me, rubbing his ass but it stopped him. Father saw the interaction and approved.

I’m not sure Darius hated it, even then. He’s never minded being saved from himself—too much. “If you’re gonna spank me,” he said later, “then you’d better be planning on spanking Oliver.”