Kim Findlay - Her Family's Defender

During that year—a long, difficult year he did his best to forget—there had been too many nights when he’d woken up in a panic, unable to sleep while Death lay stretched out in the bed beside him.

He was mostly over that now, but there were still nights when he’d wake up, sure he could feel the cancer in his body again, killing him from the inside. The doctors believed they’d caught it all, that it hadn’t metastasized and spread elsewhere. It was worth losing his prostate for that. But there were no guarantees. Michelle’s comment about her husband only reminded him of that.

After she left he pulled out his phone and called down to the concierge and asked for the name of his new neighbor. He gave it, and Troy typed “Michelle Robertson” into the search bar of his browser. He added “army” and “widow” to narrow the results down.

He wanted to know why her husband had died. He realized she might not be happy about it, but he was willing to push some boundaries when it came to the big C. He needed to know if it was cancer, and if it was the same kind that he’d had.

Prostate cancer was rare in young men, but Troy knew only too well that didn’t mean younger men couldn’t get it. He wanted the cause to be anything else, so that Troy’s own odds were better.

It took a bit of searching, but he found out the answer. And it was anything but what he’d expected.

CHAPTER TWO

“IT’LL BE GREAT,” Michelle said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. The look on his face told her that he didn’t believe her, but knew she had to say it anyway. She wanted to hug him, but he was too old now for such displays of affection in front of others. So she watched him file into the school with a pang.

Michelle and the kids hadn’t arrived at school with the additional time she’d hoped for, but they hadn’t been late. The kids were nervous. Angie got more talkative when she was unsure of herself, while Tommy grew even quieter. Michelle was nervous, too, mostly for her kids. Angie was outgoing, and likely to make friends. Tommy had always been shy, with a smaller circle of friends than his sister, but that was even more the case since his father’s death. He wouldn’t make the first steps to reach out to someone, and her heart ached to force the other boys to be kind to him.

She waved the kids off and then, once they’d disappeared into the school, she headed for the nearest subway entrance.

She hadn’t had a chance to familiarize herself with her route to class the way she’d have liked to do. Subways were new to her, since they only had buses back in the ’Peg. Fortunately, the Toronto Transit System was mostly one loop south and north, and one main line east and west. She had to listen carefully to the garbled transit announcements and watch the map closely, but she made her way to school without mishap.

She then followed the instructions she’d carefully printed out to get to her classes.

She’d enrolled in a one-year bookkeeping program. She didn’t have an avid interest in numbers, but math had been one of her better subjects, and her years in the Forces hadn’t provided her with many marketable skills outside the army. Bookkeeping seemed manageable for someone with only a high school diploma, and it also had good job prospects.

Once she found her classroom, she sat in the back and tried to be invisible as the teacher began the lesson. Since she was so new at this, and hadn’t been in class for a long time, she was planning to attend a lot of the lectures in person, even though it was possible to do most of the program online. Though that would be a nice option if she needed to take time with the kids.

The first class was overwhelming. She was scribbling notes madly, even when she didn’t understand what she was writing down. The matching principal almost made sense, but who decided on the boundaries for materiality? The students around her were all taking notes on their computers, while she was there with a binder and pen. She couldn’t keep up. She was definitely going to have to watch this lecture again at home.

She ate her lunch alone on a bench outside. She watched the other students walk by. They were mostly in groups, and they were all younger. The students were wearing new clothes that looked old, while she was wearing old things that she hoped looked new. She felt ancient and stupid. What had she gotten herself into?

She made her way back to the kids’ school for the end of the day in plenty of time and waited for them to come out. Some other parents began to gather. Michelle knew she should introduce herself but she couldn’t, not now. She was tired and discouraged. She wasn’t ready to answer the questions about what she did, where the children’s father was, what had happened and then the inevitable response, “oh how sad.”

The bell rang, and kids started spilling from the building.

Angie was the first to appear. She had another girl with her and she dragged her new friend over to her mother.

The other girl, Brittany, was a hockey player, and Michelle understood immediately how the two had bonded. Angie was hockey crazy. Her dad had started to watch games with her before his first tour. Michelle had enrolled her in skating lessons, but Angie had wanted to play hockey and it had been her passion ever since.

It was no surprise that Angie had recognized Troy Green. Angie still loved the Winnipeg Whiteout, but as soon as the move to Toronto had been broached she’d been checking out the Toronto teams and players. The other Toronto club had been around longer, but the Blaze had won the Cup a couple of years ago, and Angie had picked them as her Toronto team.

Angie was overflowing with information she wanted to share with Michelle about Brittany’s hockey team. Angie had gotten all the details about when she herself could try out. She and her new friend had compared skills and were sure they would end up on the team together.

Michelle had been avoiding the H word. She knew Angie loved hockey, and was good at it, but her ambition of being the first woman skater in the top league had very little chance of coming to pass.

In fact, this year, playing at all might have little chance of coming to pass. Here in Toronto, without a car and with cash tight, Michelle couldn’t afford the fees, the gear and the transit to the games and practices. She had learned from experience that the practice hours were early and awkward, and away games were unlikely to be on the subway lines.

So she made noncommittal responses to Angie, greeted Brittany’s mother and kept one eye open for Tommy. She smiled as he finally emerged, walking slowly, head down and alone. Her smile faltered.

Michelle told Angie to say goodbye to her friend, gathered Tommy and headed home.

Michelle managed to avoid the upcoming storm with Angie about the hockey team by trying to draw Tommy out as they walked to the condo.

“So, how was school, Tommy?”

He didn’t look up. “Fine.”

“Do you like your teacher?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Tommy’s got the strictest teacher in school. My teacher is nicer, but she gives lots of homework,” Angie said.

“Were the other kids nice?” Michelle asked Tommy, voice tight with worry.

“They’re okay.”

Michelle told them a bit about her school, editing out all the worrisome parts, but their interest was perfunctory.

When they got to the condo building, she let the kids head up in the elevator first, while she stopped to ask at the desk about nearby grocery stores. There was a store not far away that would deliver, apparently.

She’d go get milk and bread from a convenience store tonight, and order some groceries online for tomorrow. She’d probably have to find a more economical solution going forward, but there was just too much to settle right now. They’d treat themselves to pizza tonight. She needed to get on top of things, not let things get out of hand like they had this morning.