Chapter 2
"Tomorrow?" Jacob frowned. "I've got an important client tomorrow—"
"I'll head back on my own," Olivia said.
Jacob looked at her for a moment, then slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Alright, go see how things are. If you need money, just let me know. Once I'm done here, I'll come over."
His hand was warm, the heat seeping through her pajamas and spreading across her shoulder. Olivia leaned into his embrace, catching a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne on him. This time, it was woody, with a touch of sweetness in the aftertaste.
She didn't ask.
Early the next morning, Olivia caught the high-speed train back home.
Four hours later, she stood at the entrance of the county hospital, watching her mother emerge from the outpatient building. She had lost a great deal of weight. In just two months, her mother seemed to have shrunk, her back slightly stooped, her hair now streaked with gray. She wore that faded navy-blue jacket, its cuffs worn and frayed. Spotting Olivia from a distance, her face broke into a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"Didn't I tell you not to come back? It's nothing, really—" her mother said, walking over and reaching for Olivia's suitcase.
Olivia quickly pulled her mother into a hug, not letting her take the suitcase.
Her mother was so thin, Olivia could feel her shoulder blades pressing sharply into her palms, hard as stones.
"Mom, let's get you checked out in the city," Olivia said. "I've already booked us an appointment. We'll go tomorrow."
Her mother stiffened for a moment in her arms, then gently patted her back. "Alright, we'll do as you say."
That night, Olivia slept in her childhood room. The sheets were fresh, with a hint of sunshine and soap. Her mom stood in the doorway for a bit, looking like she wanted to say something, but all she said was, "Get some rest. We have to get up early tomorrow."
Olivia couldn't sleep.
She stared at the cracks on the ceiling, listening to the quiet coughs coming from the next room. Her mom was holding back, like she didn't want to wake anyone up. After a few coughs, there'd be a pause, then another round.
At 2 a.m., Olivia got a message from Jacob: "Any results from the checkup?"
She typed back: "We're heading to the city for tests tomorrow."
Jacob replied: "Call if you need anything."
She answered: "Okay."
The chat went silent after that.
He didn't ask if she was exhausted, didn't say he missed her, didn't even bother to ask what was actually wrong with her mom. Just eight words, strictly business, like he was ticking off a box on some work checklist.
Olivia slipped her phone under her pillow and closed her eyes.
The next afternoon, the test results came back.
Olivia stood outside the doctor's office, clutching the paper in her hand. She knew every word on it, but when they were strung together, it might as well have been written in a foreign language.
Cervical cancer. Moderately differentiated. Clinical stage IIB.
The doctor's words drifted past her ears: "It's not too late, but the tumor has already spread locally... We can start with chemo and radiation, see how it goes, and then decide if surgery is an option... Five-year survival rate..."
Five years.
Olivia stepped out of the office and spotted her mom sitting on a bench in the hallway, back straight as a board, hands clasped together on her knees—like a school kid waiting for the teacher to call her name.
"So, what did they say?" her mom asked.
Olivia walked over, sat down next to her, and took her hand. Her mom's hand was cold, knuckles thick, skin rough—hands shaped by years of farm work.
"Mom," Olivia said, her voice steady and gentle, "it's cancer, but it's treatable. We'll do our best, and you'll be okay."
Her mom's hand shook a little, then she gripped Olivia's hand tight.
"I knew it," her mom whispered. "I just knew. When your dad passed, it was the same—first he felt off, then got checked, and it turned out to be—" She stopped, took a deep breath. "It's alright, I'm getting old. If it can't be cured, it's okay. Don't cry."
Olivia only then realized she was crying.
Olivia spent five days back home.
During those five days, she stayed by her mom's side for every test, got her admitted to the hospital, and worked out a treatment plan with the attending doctor. The doctor was Alice Montes, in her forties, and she spoke in a calm, measured way, making sure Olivia understood every risk and cost associated with each treatment option.
"If we go with radical chemo and radiation, the total cost will be around $5,0000 to $6,0000. Insurance will cover some of it, but there are some imported drugs and targeted therapies that you'll have to pay for out of pocket," Dr. Montes said, looking at Olivia. "How's your family's financial situation?"
"No problem," Olivia replied. "Give her the best medicine."
Dr. Montes nodded, gave a few more reminders, and told her to go to the payment desk and prepay $20,000.