Why couldn't she have told me? Why was I the last one to hear about the disease that had taken over her life? Why did I have to open up and spill every bloody secret of my past, but she got to hide hers?
That was when she pulled that famous line from her pocket. I don't want to be defined by my cancer anymore than you want to be defined by your burns.
I cursed, and left. I left her sitting on a park bench as I drove away. I left her alone as I went out into the middle of nowhere, on some random dirt road, and screamed at the top of my lungs. She was crying her eyes out as I punched and kicked and curse, and yelled everything that I was feeling at my new old truck. I was sure I wasn't the first crazy guy that ever beat up the eighties model Ford.
And then I went home, and I stopped going to the hospital, or talking in general. I slept, and I dreamt of Julie being chased by this large red ball of spikes and fire (because my dream world imagined that it was what cancer looked like) as she ran to me, but never would quite make it, despite me holding my arms out and screaming for her.
I had shut everything off and became numb to all the things around me. I just laid in my bed, and said nothing.
Until I had asked God why.
Why Julie? Why now? Why did her cancer have to come back, and why did she have to keep it hidden from me? Why was He doing all of this to me?
For a while, there was only silence. No answer. I got on my knees, and tried asking again, still no answer. I wondered if maybe I was praying wrong, and then Liam texted, and then I was in his car, and he was driving like a maniac.
♥
“Liam,” I said, touching his arm, but he chose to ignore me. He chose to keep his foot pressed against the gas pedal and help the increasing speedometer to seventy.
I was a guy. Fast cars and women were suppose to be my thing, but with my woman alone with cancer, I didn't figure a fast car was going to help my situation any.
“Liam!” I yelled as he took a corner too fast, and the car skidded across the road. I held to my seat, watching as things spiraled around us as the car spun.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Liam trying to get a grip on the car, and I saw that look of fear written across his face as if he hadn't realized what he had been doing and had suddenly awakened from a bad dream to this reality.
And then, as quickly as the car had began to turn, it stopped. A tornado of dust surrounded us like a beige curtain, and I could smell the bitter scent of burning rubber. It attacked my senses.
My hands were shaking, my voice felt like that gelatin that makes farting noises when you push against it.
I whispered a thank you, and realized it was to the Lord.
And then Liam's door flew open, and I turned to see him storming from the car. I heard him begin to beat against his car, and scream. I felt like I was watching a replay of my night after finding out.
I got out, having to force myself to clutch the handle. My hands were still shaking too badly for me to grip anything with confidence. I eventually did get the door to open, and I got out.
It was only seconds after I closed the door that Liam was on me, and shoved me against the car. The shock of it was combined with the rage on his face as he began to yell at me.
“Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you doing something?” he screamed, and pushed me again. This time, I pushed him back.
“I am angry! Do you honestly think I wouldn't be?” I asked him. “I can't do anything!”
Liam held his head, and he turned around. I followed after him as he walked along the edge of the road, his entire body quaking with the anger he was experiencing.
“How is this fair? Why, Julie?” Liam asked, turning around to look at me. I had a moment of deja vu, and wondered if that pained expression he was wearing was the one I had been, the one I was still wearing.
I didn't have an answer for that, and Liam looked up, shaking his head. He looked in awe, and strangely, murderous. Out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and wet grass and dirt, I hoped he wasn't going to kill me.
“Julie always has the answers. She always tells me where to go, but you know what, I prayed like I had never prayed before tonight, and I heard nothing. Not a single word,” Liam said, looking at me.
I started to tell him that I had too, but it wasn't my confession to make. Liam wanted to vent, and he needed someone to listen. He needed to know that the entire world had not gone deaf.
“Maybe that's what's wrong,” he went on, as if knowing my thoughts. “Maybe He did say something and I just couldn't hear it. Maybe even my mental ears are damaged.”
“Liam,” I said, and he stopped. I saw him, behind the masque of anger and hatred, to the scared little boy that was desperate for answers I couldn't give. Answers that I was still waiting to hear myself.
“Is this wrong?” he asked.
“What?”
“Me? Asking questions? Am I suppose
