Fate of the Fathers

The cold spring air hit Jenna’s lungs as she threw her bodyweight into the last leg of her morning run. She loved the burn that throbbed in her muscles. For a moment, she closed her eyes and focused on the feel of her feet hitting the paved road beneath her. Steady contact that was broken only briefly when she was airborne.

She let the rhythmic pulse of bass and drums consume her, feet striking the road in time with the music.

Focus. . . Control. . .Focus. . . Control. Her mantra over the last few years of her life.

Jenna let out a long, slow breath, feeling the sweet relief of stillness drifting through her body.

It had happened again just that morning. This time over breakfast.

Bagels were burning in the toaster, and eggs were crackling in the frying pan when Uncle Dwayne made a comment about wanting to switch trucking companies for better insurance benefits. Aunt June had her head in the fridge, looking for the cream cheese, telling Jenna to add creamer to the grocery list.

Of course, it had been an inconvenient time to bring up changing jobs, but Aunt June didn’t miss a beat, immediately turning down the suggestion. She wanted him home every night—not gone for three weeks at a time.

These discussions—not arguments, mind you—had come more frequently in recent months. Almost on a weekly basis now. She used the physicality of running to combat the tension that would otherwise consume her.

It had been a part of her daily routine for years now.

When a car honked loudly behind her, Jenna stumbled, moving away from the road on impulse. Except, that meant going down an embankment. Her ankle rolled on the incline, and a moment later, she lay sprawled on the bottom of the ditch.

“Damn it!” she hissed, rising to her knees, and grabbing the ear bud that had lurched free in the ordeal.

“You okay?”

Jenna looked up to see the car had pulled over a short distance down the road. A middle-aged woman stepped out of the driver’s side, rushing towards her.

But Jenna waived her off. “I’m fine, thanks!” She rose to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot up through her ankle. Maybe she could walk it off.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt, honey?” the woman asked, still coming closer. “I can give you a lift home if you’d like.”

“That’s not necessary, but I appreciate it.” Jenna was not in the habit of accepting help from complete strangers, and a rolled ankle wasn’t going to change that. The woman’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and Jenna knew she had seen her grimace.

Willing herself to move forward without a limp, Jenna forced a smile before popping the ear buds back in and continuing her trip home—at a walk.

The throb in her ankle was intense, but Jenna kept up a moderate walking pace, with only a small limp, as she neared the turnoff to her aunt and uncle’s house. Ice and elevation would surely take away any swelling and she’d be fine in no time.

Back in her bedroom, she stripped out of the sweaty running clothes, gingerly removing her sock from her swollen foot. Grabbing her towel from the bed, she moved into the adjacent bathroom and flipped on the shower.

As the water warmed, Jenna caught her reflection in the mirror, noticing the smudge of dirt and dried blood on her chin. Pushing her auburn hair aside, she dabbed gently on the wound. It stung a little but would heal quickly. Nothing a little cover-up wouldn’t fix in the meantime.

After the shower, she dressed in skinny jeans and a sweater before going to find her aunt. She had a follow-up doctor’s appointment today and they were hoping for good news after Aunt June’s recent chemotherapy session.

“You ready to go?” June asked, in the middle of organizing a stack of papers on the table. She paused when she met Jenna’s eyes. “What happened to you?”

“Just a situation with a ditch, but I’m fine. Want me to start the car?”

Thankfully Aunt June didn’t push the topic, instead tossing her the keys, saying, “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Sitting in the driver’s seat of the sedan didn’t bother Jenna anymore. There was even a part of her that had begun to enjoy acting as her aunt’s chauffeur with the doctor’s visits. She buckled her seatbelt and changed the station as Aunt June slid into the passenger seat.

As Jenna put the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway, Aunt June looked at the front porch and walkway to the house.

“Maybe we can pick up some flowers to plant this weekend. I was thinking tulips and hyacinths. They would look lovely in the front yard. What do you think?”

Unbidden images of the pink and yellow tulips her mom had planted at the beach house came to Jenna’s mind. She tamped the thought down just as quickly as it had risen.

“I love it,” she agreed, hoping it sounded genuine. She flipped on the blinker, making a turn from their quiet cul-de-sac and onto the main road, heading into the city. “What about some daffodils?”

“Of course!” Aunt June said excitedly. “Did I ever tell you about the first date I went on with your uncle? He brought a bouquet of daffodils and wildflowers when he picked me up. It was very romantic.” She went on about the picnic they had. “It was at the municipal park. . . You know the one? He took me down next to the river where we had cucumber sandwiches and cocktails. They tasted awful—I don’t know what he put in them. I’ll never tell him that though. . .”

Jenna had heard the story many times, but she didn’t tire of hearing her aunt’s retelling of it. It was romantic. A beautiful moment between two people whose previous marriages had come to an end. They had found each other and committed to a lifetime together.

And then Aunt June got cancer three years ago.

“Didn’t your mom have tulips planted in the front yard of the beach house? I think your uncle had a picture of it somewhere. . .”

The question sent a tremor of something through Jenna’s gut. She didn’t give it a chance to fester.

“Yeah, she did.” Jenna feigned distraction, tilting her head to look at the side mirrors.

“It must have been beautiful,” Aunt June murmured. She was saying something else about the house, but all Jenna heard was a roar in her ears.

Focus. . . Control. . .

She let out a breath and unclenched her hands from the steering wheel as they pulled into the clinic parking lot. She welcomed the doctor’s visit, which seemed easier than dealing with conversations about tulips and the beach house.

They went to the second floor of the clinic—the oncology department only a few steps from the elevator.

The waiting room was cozy, with abstract artwork, plants, and a small water feature that added to the ambience with its gentle, melodic sounds. To Jenna it meant something else entirely.

It meant endless hours with Uncle Dwayne, waiting on lab results. . . blood work. . . tumor markers.

But today she was centering her thoughts on positive news. June’s recent chemotherapy had gone well—much better than the others. They were all hopeful for what it meant for the future.

“Betty. . . Samantha,” June said, acknowledging the two ladies at the front desk. “I’m here for a follow-up with Dr. Davidson.” She smiled brightly and Jenna knew it wasn’t forced.

Not like hers.

Samantha’s eyes lighted as she handed over the familiar clipboard and pen. “Of course, good to see you, June. As soon as you fill this out, I’ll let the doc know you’re here.”

June thanked her, starting to turn back towards the chairs when Betty piped up.

“June, hon, can you come back?” Betty handed her a business card. “There’s a note in your chart about needing to call the billing department. I think it’s regarding your insurance?”

Though June’s smile didn’t falter, Jenna saw how she tensed, wiping a hand across her brow, as she slipped the card into her purse, saying something about calling them right after the appointment.

They sat back down in silence as June filled out the paperwork and Jenna returned it to the desk.

After a few minutes, June picked up a magazine, leafing through the contents.

“It’s the payments—isn’t it?” Jenna finally asked.

Despite the time that had passed, June nodded. “The insurance we’re on now has a rather high deductible. We’re making payments, but. . .”

. . . But it isn’t enough, Jenna finished silently. She had stayed out of the conversation for months now, but maybe it was time she gave her own input.

“What if you let Uncle Dwayne take the other job?” she asked slowly, quietly, afraid of what her aunt might think of her taking her uncle’s side in what was clearly none of her business.

June pursed her lips, then reached over to lay a hand on Jenna’s knee. “Something. . . changes. . . when you think you might die soon,” she said. “I don’t fear death, but I don’t want to do it alone. I’d rather endure financial hardship then risk your uncle being away if. . .” her voice trailed off.

Jenna warred at the inside of her lip, uncomfortable with the conversation, but also wishing her aunt would stop being so stubborn about it. If there was a way to fix their financial situation, why wouldn’t she just let him do it?

They were called back to see the doctor. After the medical assistant took June’s vitals and asked her a set of questions regarding her health and medications, Dr. Davidson came in, repeating many of the same questions.

To all of which, June replied that she felt fine, her strength had returned, and she felt better than she had in the last few years.

“We’ll run some tests, but from what I can see, your progress has been very good, and I feel optimistic,” Dr. Davidson said, wheeling his chair to face Aunt June. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Jenna looked at her aunt, expectedly. But to her surprise, Aunt June only smiled and shook her head. “Nope!”

The doctor stood, shaking hands with both of them before escorting them back to the waiting area.

It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Jenna turned to her aunt. “What happened back there?”

“Hmm?”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “You nearly fainted three days ago! Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Oh, I’ve felt perfectly fine since then. It was just a bout of nausea from something I ate.”

It hadn’t been nausea. Jenna was certain of that. “You should have at least told them,” she muttered, throwing the key into the ignition.

June waived her hand dismissively. “I promise if it happens again, I’ll tell the doc.”

They drove in silence until they neared their neighborhood. Trees and scattered cars lined the street.

She had just turned a corner when her aunt cried, “Look out!”