“I understand that you are scared, Luna. Believe me, I do. After your surgery and once the medication is out of your system, you and I need to talk. Okay?”
“Pass,” I say simply.
“I’m not asking you, Luna. I’m telling you that you and I are going to talk. Understand?”
“I do believe I have a father, and it’s not you,” I say as I try to pull away again. “Don’t treat me like a child.”
“Don’t act like one,” he retorts.
“Oh, fuck you, Dominic. Who the fuck do you think you are talking…” he cuts me off suddenly when he grabs my face and kisses me hard. I instantly melt into him and Harper squeals in delight.
“You are a brat, Luna,” he mumbles before kissing me again, only softer. When he pulls away from our kiss, he is still holding my face between his hands. I don’t open my eyes just yet because I’m afraid of finding out it’s not real. “Look at me.”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“About the procedure or the biopsy?” he asks.
“The biopsy.”
“Luna, the only reason I want to do the biopsy is so that you have peace of mind. I would be comfortable not doing it, but you will worry yourself to death. If I thought for a moment that it could be cancerous, I would’ve done the biopsy that day in the office.”
“You’re still an ass,” I say, and he smiles.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Come on.”
“Alright, Luna. Are you ready?” Dominic asks. I am lying on the operating table. Everyone is gowned and gloved. I am completelycovered from the neck down, which is good because it’s cold in here.
“Yeah,” I say. “Don’t kill me, Doc.”
“You’ll do great,” he says. He has a mask on so I can’t see the smile on his face, but I can see it in his eyes. “Count backward from ten for me.”
“If I don't, will I get to stay awake?” I ask.
“No, Linda is still going to put you under,” he laughs, nodding to the anesthesiologist.
“Okay,” I say with a shaky sigh. A mask is placed over my nose and mouth as she pushes the plunger that is attached to the IV in my arm. “10… 9… 8… 7… 6…”
I slip away into my dreams. My dreams are generally nice memories of my mother and the good times we had before she got sick. By the time she found out she had cancer, it had taken over her abdomen entirely. There was nothing they could do because it was progressing too fast. I remember the day Mom and Dad sat us down and told us. I was so stunned. I didn’t want to believe that I was losing my mom to something that could have been prevented. I was angry at her for not having symptoms; for not knowing she was dying.
I was downright hateful because I was hurting, but she never got mad at me. She never stopped smiling or telling us how much she loved us. No matter how much pain she was in, she always made a point to put us first. She did the same thing with Dad. He tried to make her rest and just let him take care of her, but she didn’t want to go out that way. She didn’t want to be a burden. That’swhen I stopped letting people take care of me. I figured if my mom could do it with terminal cancer, then I could do it healthy. I had no reason to complain because I was alive, and she was dead.
When Amy found out, it had taken over her uterus. She went from being healthy to being in menopause in less than a year. No one could explain why or how it got so bad so fast, but they called her lucky. She was lucky because she would never have biological children. She was lucky that she had to go through menopause before she even turned thirty. Now everyone is watching and waiting for me to be the next to turn up with cancer. They think that I don’t hear them gossip at family gatherings and wonder if this is the year I’ll tell everyone that I’m sick.
Part of me wants to just convince Dominic to just do a hysterectomy, but I know I’d regret it. I want children so badly. The only problem is, I can’t get out of my own way long enough to let anyone have an interest in me. I don’t want to watch the man of my dreams suffer through losing me and not be able to do anything about it. I don’t want them to have to help me plan my funeral like Mom did. I know that I’m just making myself miserable by not letting people get close to me, but I can’t bear the thought of being the source of someone’s pain. I know that my mother did not want to be the source of my pain, but she was.
I watched my father turn into a man that I don’t recognize. He used to smile all the time. He would joke and laugh with us. Now, he is a shell of a person waiting for death to take over. He is miserable because he lost the love of his life. How can I get into arelationship with someone knowing that I am very well able to do that to someone?
I slowly open my eyes, and everything is blurry. I blink away the haze and things start coming into focus. As my vision clears up my body realizes it’s in pain. I groan and try to shift to be more comfortable. I’m on a hospital bed and it’s bright as fuck in here. Faces turn to me, and it takes me a second to realize who it is.
“Hey,” Harper says softly. I make a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whine.
“Are you in pain?” Dominic asks and I nod. “You can give her 2 milligrams. I just wanted her to be awake first.” The nurse beside him nods and a few seconds later relief sweeps over me, and I relax.
“I didn’t die,” I mumble.
“You didn’t,” he smiles. “Let’s get you moved so you can get dressed and I’ll come talk to you. Okay?”
“Is it bad?” I ask.