It Was Us by Anna Cruise Page B

contained there, yes. It would be a good thing. But if we screwed up and it's spread outside the area...” His voice trailed off.
    Something that felt like a small block of ice settled into my stomach. I didn't like discussing my mother this way. It wasn't comfortable and it wasn't pleasant. And it wasn't imaginable. It didn't seem fair that we'd all taken a breath and relaxed when the initial treatment seemed to send the cancer into remission. The fact that it was possibly back was cruel, like Lucy showing Charlie Brown the football and then pulling it away.
    My dad laid his hands on his desk. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be all doom and gloom. We need to be positive. For your mom and for us.”
    I nodded but I wondered how easy that was going to actually be. Because I didn't see anything to be positive about.
    “Anyway,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “How are you?”
    Pregnant. Considering an abortion. Or having a baby out of wedlock. Thanks for asking.
    “I'm alright,” I lied. “Just tired and a little stressed out.”
    “Because of your mom?”
    “Just...everything.”
    “Things with West are alright?” he asked. “I need to get over and see a game.”
    “Fine,” I said, quickly, not wanting to lie to him any more than I already had.
    He nodded and I could tell that he wasn't really listening to me, which was okay. His mind was elsewhere and so was mine.
    I stood. “I'm gonna go get some work done.”
    “Okay,” he said. “I've got a bit more to do and then I'm gonna head home. I'll let you know when I go to leave.”
    I went back to my desk and collapsed into the chair, the entire day sitting on my shoulders like two massive anvils. I was tired, confused, and on the verge of tears. Again. It felt like I hadn't a normal day in months. I just needed a day to breathe, to clear my head, to smile.
    But I didn't see that day coming any time soon.

TWENTY-FOUR
    WEST
     
     
     
    “That page must be really interesting,” Griffin said.
    He was sitting at the table, eating his way through a massive burrito. I was on the couch, my European history textbook on my lap.
    “Why's that?” I asked.
    “You haven't turned it in about fifteen minutes.”
    “Maybe I'm memorizing something.”
    He held the burrito to his mouth. “Or maybe you're full of shit.”
    “Or that.” I closed the book and set it on the floor. I stretched out my legs on the couch, put my hands behind my head and stared up at the ceiling. “Too much shit right now.”
    “The whole possibility of a West Junior entering the world thing?” he asked.
    I showed him my middle finger.
    He chuckled, took a big bite of the burrito and washed it down with a drink of whatever was in the cup next to the food. “Sorry. Just trying to add a little levity.”
    “Not the right time.”
    “Sorry. No decision yet?”
    I shook my head. “None. And her mom's sick again.”
    “The cancer shit?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Ugh. Not cool.”
    It really wasn't. It was bad enough that we were in the midst of having to deal with the pregnancy, but getting that news tossed on top of it seemed like we'd pissed off whatever gods ruled the universe. I felt like we were due for a break, but weren't getting it.
    “Is it bad?” Griffin asked, polishing off the burrito and balling up the foil wrapper.
    “Don't know yet.”
    He shot the make-shift ball into the trashcan near the kitchen counter. “And why no decision yet?”
    “Because it's not like picking a restaurant for dinner.”
    “I get that. But either you guys want to be parents or you don't. That's a pretty clear cut line, isn't it?”
    “You'd think.”
    “And sorry,” he said. “Not having been in the same spot, I don't want to assume shit and be wrong. But there's no gray area. You're either in or you're out.”
    I nodded. “I agree. But it's harder to pick a side when you actually have to pick a side.”
    He shrugged, then nodded, conceding that I had a point. Maybe.
    “What would you