š“ HE BOUGHT TICKETS TO BERMUDA ā AFTER I TOLD HIM ABOUT THE SCANS
I saw the email pop up on the shared iPad and my stomach just twisted into a knot.
The salty ocean smell from the diffuser in the living room suddenly made me nauseous, and the bright blue screen burned my eyes. He said he was going to visit his mother, he promised, and then this? “Relaxing Getaway” the subject line screamed.
“Surprise!” he chirped, coming up behind me, all bright smiles, but I couldnāt even pretend to be happy. āIsnāt it amazing?ā He squeezed my shoulders; I could feel the warmth of his hands right through my thin shirt, but all I felt was a chill.
Then I noticed something else: there were *three* tickets.
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The screen blurred as tears welled up. Bermuda. Luxury. All things that felt galaxies away from the sterile fluorescent lights of the hospital where weād just received the news. The scans. The diagnosis. The weight of it all pressed down on me, and his surprise felt less like a joyous escape and more like a betrayal.
“Three?” I managed, my voice cracking. “Who else is going?”
He beamed, oblivious to the internal earthquake I was experiencing. “Well, you, me, andā¦ Mom. I thought a trip to celebrate her birthday would be perfect! And, you know,” he added, a playful lilt in his voice, “we could all use some sun.”
The air thinned, making it hard to breathe. His mom? He hadn’t even mentioned her birthday was coming up. And three tickets? Suddenly, everything clicked into place, a sickening puzzle.
“Is sheā¦ is she okay?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He paused, his smile faltering for the first time. “Of course, she is! Why wouldnāt she be?” He looked at my face, saw the truth reflected in my tear-filled eyes. He hesitated, then dropped his shoulders.
“The scans,” I said flatly. “Did *she* get the scans too?”
He looked away, finally. “Yes. And itāsā¦ it’s not good, honey.” He finally confessed. “She hasā¦ she has something. Not the same as what you have, butā¦ itās serious. Sheās been having symptoms for months. She didnāt want to worry us.”
My anger deflated, replaced by a hollow ache. My own fear now intertwined with the dread that was now hanging over his mother. The betrayal still stung, but it was diluted with a shared understanding of the gravity of their situation.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil. Then, I turned to him, forcing a smile. “Bermuda,” I said, my voice a little stronger now. “Soundsā¦ just what we all need.”
We booked our flights to Bermuda. Underneath the azure sky, we were three. A son, a wife, and a mother, bound together by the shared shadow of diagnosis. The days were a careful balance of laughter, tears, and unspoken fear. Though the circumstances werenāt as planned, we were bound together by a shared knowledge. When we went back to the hospital, we went together. We were in it together, and in that small, beautiful way, Bermuda was a beginning.