Nathan Marsh's State of Being

Chapter Seventeen

unsettled

Thanksgiving this year was horrible.

I sat across the table from my parents. I was ecstatic to see my dad, like usual, but that happiness was clouded by the threat of my mom's breast cancer.

There wasn't a minute that went by since I'd come home that I stopped thinking about it. It was a special kind of torture that I wished I'd never come to know.

Somehow, even though it was all over my thoughts, we hadn't talked about it as a family yet and that made me feel more uncomfortable. I didn't expect my mom to mention it much because she was like that--private in almost every facet. Which is something my dad respected about her, so my guess was that was why he didn't try to start a conference meeting with us over it in the living room.

Then there was me, who was jointly longing to know more yet terrified of the reality. So I did what I normally did with my family and I didn't ask about anything and we all pretended everything was normal. It was something I was far too accustomed to, but I was too much of a chicken to call my parents out.

"How's school, kiddo?" my dad asked during Thanksgiving dinner.

It was just the three of us for the holiday, which was already better than what most of my life was—only my mom and me.

My dad looked older than the last time I'd seen him at my graduation, which wasn't even that long ago. I held back a frown as I wondered, Did the pressure of my mom being sick change him that much?

I swallowed my bite of turkey. Christmas music played quietly in the background as we ate. It was my mom's favorite tradition--even though we weren't Christians and didn't celebrate their holiday--and this year I was trying so hard not to let it annoy me the way it usually did.

This year I just wanted her to be happy. She'd dealt with me making our holidays frustrating for too many years as I bitterly mentioned how we could have been with dad overseas somewhere if it wasn't for her decisions.

Knowing better now, and wanting to make up for those rough years when I was in middle school and a total brat, I was determined not to snap about anything this year.

Even if Jingle Bells drove me nuts.

"It's good," I said, clearing my throat. "I don't mind my classes too much."

"Are you studying a lot?" my mom asked.

She gave me a guarded smile. I felt guilty knowing it was only there because of me and my selfish behavior. I smiled back sheepishly, feeling awkward. "Yeah, I suppose. All the library attendants know me by name now, so..."

My parents laughed and I felt my spirits lift just a little. My dad pointed a finger at me. "Don't study too hard, bud. I know how you are."

I shrugged and took another bite of my potatoes. Around the food I said, "I like studying. It keeps me occupied."

There was silence for a moment and I realized what sort of thought I probably left in their heads. Did they think I was talking about being worried about mom? Or maybe they were thinking of how much I'd been alone and angry as a teenager, spending hours locked in my room doing homework when I wasn't out with my friends.

In any case, seeing the thin veil of guilt on their faces made me feel horrible.

To pick things back up, I quickly said, "The campus library is really nice, so it's easy for me to just spend hours there. But besides studying, Harley and I go for a run almost every day before lunch. Since it's getting so cold out now and the weather's just getting shittier, we use the athletics track."