Джо Уолтон: A Burden Shared

When she slid in, Penny was horrified to see how drawn her daughter’s face was. “I’m glad we’re going to the doctor with this, because the sooner it’s fixed, the better,” Ann said, switching the car to self-drive mode. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not good, Mom.” She hugged Penny, who hugged her back.

The doctor’s office was traditionally paneled in supposedly soothing shades of beige and puce, and decorated with close-up photographs of aquatic birds. Penny had spent way too much time there with Ann.

Once her blood had been drawn and tested, the diagnosis was almost instant. The doctor frowned, and ran it again, while Penny frowned nervously at a grebe. The doctor handed the paper to Penny. “There’s no easy way to tell you this,” the doctor said.

Penny stared at the paper, hardly able to believe it. But the doctor had run it twice; it had to be right. “How can I be riddled with inoperable cancer?” she asked. “I didn’t feel a thing until today!”

The doctor frowned. “Have you been experiencing a lot of pain?” she asked. “Sometimes that can mask early symptoms.”

Penny handed Ann the prognosis as they got back into the car. Ann gasped, and hugged her again, then insisted on taking Penny’s pain back before they drove away. A chilly wind was blowing the leaves from the trees at the roadside. Before there were new green leaves, Penny would be dead. She couldn’t quite take it in.

“The first thing we need to do is sort out a pain management regime,” Ann said. “You’ve helped enough people. Lots of them will be happy to help you.”

“There are also painkillers, for cases like this,” Penny said.

Ann flinched as if her mother had said one of the five words you don’t say in church. “Mom. I love you. Other people love you. It won’t come to that. You don’t have to poison your body with those things, even if you are going to d-die.”

“This reminds me of the time when we got your diagnosis,” Penny said. “You were just a tiny baby. And you had this incurable disease that was going to give you pain forever. And your father and I were sure we could manage it. Delighted we lived now so that we could share the burden instead of being helpless and leaving you to suffer it alone.” They drove on, past the college, where Penny would not no longer teach out the school year. “What are you going to do, Ann?”

“I’ll cope,” Ann said, stalwartly. “Dad will be there. And Lionel will do what he can. I’ll find a way to manage. Don’t worry about me, now, Mom. Think about yourself.”

Penny looked out the car window, as helpless in the face of her daughter’s suffering as any parent had ever been.

Jo Waltonwon the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer on publication of her debut novel The King’s Peace. She won the World Fantasy Award in 2004 for Tooth and Claw, and in 2012, the Hugo and Nebula Awards for Among Others. In addition to writing SF and fantasy, she has also designed role-playing games and published poetry. Her song “The Lurkers Support Me In Email” has been quoted innumerable times in online discussions all over the world, frequently without attribution. A native of Wales, she lives in Montreal. You can sign up for email updates here.

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Art copyright © 2017 by Richie Pope