CHAPTER 072: Emotional Support
~~Ryan O’Brien~~
It’s been a week since the lump was surgically removed from Ryan’s chest, and he’s at the hospital, waiting for Elaine Jenkins, Julie’s mother.
The hospital parking lot feels like purgatory–just endless rows of cars and the low hum of fluorescent lights that turn every reflective surface into a pale green.
Ryan is sitting in the back seat of his car, fidgeting with the leather strap of his watch. He doesn’t know why he called Elaine of all people. Maybe because her number is there, wedged between his lawyer and his financial advisor, or maybe because she looks a lot like Julie.
The thought of Julie sends a pang through him. She hasn’t been taking his calls. Yeah, he did say he’d let her have the divorce, and he might have threatened her while doing it. But she should know he doesn’t mean any of that. Even if she’s leaving him, they could be friends, right? Friends are allowed to call each other when they’re falling apart.
He catches sight of Elaine’s car–a white convertible–pulling into a spot two rows down. Even her parking is aggressive, the wheels jerking to a halt. She steps out of the car, and Ryan holds his breath, already feeling like this was a bad idea.
Now that he thinks about it, she is Julie, but cranked up a notch: a sharp blazer in hot pink with exaggerated shoulder pads, a pencil skirt, and sunglasses that probably cost more than she can afford. Her heels click as she struts over, radiating the energy of a woman who takes no prisoners.
Elaine opens the backseat door, slides in, and crosses her legs as if she’s about to negotiate a hostile takeover. She removes her sunglasses and folds them, setting them in her lap. Her piercing eyes fix on Ryan.
“Alright,” she says. “What’s this about?”
Ryan opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Why did he call her? The truth is there, tangled somewhere in his chest, but saying it feels like trying to cough up barbed wire. He rubs the back of his neck, staring down at
the faint stitching on his jeans.
“I just… There’s a probability I have cancer,” he says.
Elaine blinks. Then she tilts her head, her expression unreadable. “A probability? I don’t follow. Do you have it
or not?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“So you’re telling me you dragged me all the way here for potential bad news? What do you want? Money for chemotherapy? Now you want me to repay all the money you’ve spent on me? Because I’m going to be honest with you-”
“Elaine.”
“-you’d have to throw me in jail, because I don’t have it.”
Ryan exhales, the sound almost a growl. “Can you stop talking? Jesus Christ, I called you here because I needed emotional support. They removed a lump from my chest. I’m getting the results today. I just… didn’t
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CHAPTER 072, Emotional Support
want to do this alone.”
“Emotional support?” she says, looking like she’d just tasted bile. “Where’s your mother?”
“If I wanted my mother, she’d be here, wouldn’t she?”
“So what, then? You want a shoulder to cry on? Someone to hold your hand while you wait for your scary little test results? I must warn you, I don’t do emotions very well.”
Ryan runs his hands down his face, muffling a groan. “God, why did I think this was a good idea?”
“I’m wondering the same thing.”
“You know what? Forget it. I’ll go in alone.”
She sighs, the sound is more theatrical than necessary. “Oh, stop being such a baby. I’m already here. Might
as well use me.”
“Right.”
Elaine’s expression shifts, softening just enough to be noticeable. “All this is because of Julie, isn’t it? She’s the one you want holding your hand down the hospital’s hallway, but you kind of fucked that up, and now I’m the next option. You know, Ryan, if you’re lonely, I could give you another daughter. It seems you have a thing for the Jenkins. And I promise you, this one won’t leave you.”
“Gosh, you’re even worse than Julie said. I’m not in love with your genes, Elaine. I’m in love with Julie. And
she’s the only one who ever cared about me.”
“That’s not true,” Elaine says. “I care.”
Ryan snorts. “You care about my money.”
“Touché.”
For a moment, they sit in silence. Ryan’s fingers drum against his knee, his nerves fraying with each passing
second.
“I’m scared,” he admits.
“Of course you are. Anyone would be.”
He swallows hard, staring at his hands. “What if it’s bad news? What if-”
“Stop,” she cuts him off. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. You don’t know anything yet. And sitting here, spiraling, isn’t going to help.”
“I just… I can’t stop thinking about all the times I could’ve done better, been better. And now, what if it’s too
late?”
Elaine reaches over and places a hand on his arm, surprising him. Her touch is firm. “Ryan, you’ve made your fair share of mistakes. Hell, we all have. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re not the kind of man who gives up. So whatever this is, you’ll face it. And you’ll figure it out.”
He blinks, taken aback by the unexpected pep talk. Julie once swore her mother doesn’t have a conscience.
“Don’t look so shocked,” she adds with a smirk. “I can be nice. Occasionally. When the mood strikes.”
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CHAPTER 072: Emotional Support
“Well,” he says, “I’ll be damned.”
“Yes, you will. But not today.”
For the first time since Ryan got the news about the lump, Ryan feels his chest loosen, just a little. Elaine Jenkins might be a walking headache, but in this moment, she’s exactly what he needs.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s go see that doctor.“.
The hospital’s hallway smells like antiseptic and faint despair. It’s bright, too bright, just enough to set Ryan’s nerves on edge. He’s walking beside Elaine, who, in her towering heels, strides like they’re heading to a cocktail party instead of a potential death sentence.
Elaine looks over. “You’re awfully quiet. Having second thoughts?”
“Maybe.”
“Too late.”
When they arrive at the reception, Ryan mutters his name and appointment time while Elaine leans against the counter, inspecting her manicure.
“Have a seat,” the receptionist says without looking up.
Elaine tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Charming. I’ll make myself comfortable in your five–star waiting area.”
Ryan steers her toward a row of hard plastic chairs. “For once, could you not antagonize someone?”
“Antagonize? That was me being polite,” she says, sitting down.
He doesn’t bother responding, too busy staring at the door that leads to the doctor’s office. Every second feels like it’s being stretched on a medieval rack. He glances at Elaine, who’s now scrolling through her phone, her face impassive.
“How are you so calm?” he blurts.
She doesn’t look up. “I’m not the one dying.”
“Really?”
“Mm–hmm.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.” She puts her phone away and looks at him. “Relax. Whatever it is, you’ll deal with it. Or you won’t. Either way, panicking isn’t going to help.”
Before he can respond, a nurse steps out. “Mr. O’Brien? The doctor will see you now.”
Ryan’s stomach lurches. His legs feel like rubber as he pushes himself up from the chair, each movement heavier than the last. Beside him, Elaine stands too, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt.
“You don’t have to come,” he says.
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“Don’t be ridiculous.” She links her arm through his. “I’ve already invested my time. I’m seeing this through.”
He doesn’t argue. What’s the point? Elaine isn’t the type to back down from anything once she’s decided. Together, they head down the hallway. He feels like he’s marching to his doom, his shoulders slumped, every step reluctant.
The doctor’s office is modern and spotless, all clean whites and calming grays. A massive mahogany desk anchors the room, polished so perfectly it réflects the overhead light like a mirror. Diplomas and certifications line the walls. To the side, a towering window offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline, the kind of view that feels out of place in a moment like this
Behind the desk, the doctor stands to greet them. He’s a man in his late fifties, with a kind, rounded face framed by a neatly trimmed salt–and–pepper beard. His eyes are sharp but warm, and his suit–a perfectly tailored navy number–suggests he’s not just a doctor but someone who believes in making an impression.
“Mr. Ryan O’Brien, welcome,” the doctor says. Then he glances at Elaine. “I see you brought someone. Your wife?”
Ryan freezes. He notices Elaine has stopped too. For a split second, her face betrays her–eyes wide, jaw slack, like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. It’s rare to catch Elaine off guard, and Ryan would laugh if he wasn’t feeling nervous.
Elaine recovers quickly. “Oh, please, doctor,” she says. “Stop flattering me. I’m his mother.”
Ryan turns toward her, his jaw dropping. “What the hell”
“Oh,” the doctor says. “Nice genes.”
Elaine beams, her usual confidence snapping back into place. She practically glows under the compliment, flashing the doctor one of her signature smiles. “Aren’t they? I was just saying that to him some minutes ago!”
Before Ryan can process what’s happening, Elaine unlinks her hand from his, glides over to one of the chairs in front of the desk, and sinks into it, crossing her legs. She doesn’t even look at Ryan as she folds her hands in her lap, her focus entirely on the doctor.
Elaine waves Ryan over. “Don’t keep the good doctor waiting.”
Ryan walks forward and sits beside her. He hasn’t even gotten comfortable before Elaine starts speaking.
“So, tell me, Doctor,” she says. “Is my son going to die?”
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