Prologue
Can-cer
-noun
1. Pathology.
a. A malignant and invasive growth or tumor, especially one originating in epithelium, tending to recur after excision and to metastasize to other sites.
b. Any disease characterized by such growths.
2. Any evil condition or thing that spreads destructively; blight.
The word cancer instills fear in the hearts of the strongest men. Cancer is not visible to the naked eye. It invades our bodies, destroying us from the inside out. How can we fight that which we cannot see? How can we fight a disease that turns us against ourselves?
Lucas Scott has always loved to read. The world has changed, but human nature has stayed the same. He can read a book set in a different time and relate to the characters. He can lose himself in the world created by the author. Sitting at the desk in the bedroom, Lucas was reading. He didn't know the real world was about to come crashing down around him. He heard footsteps and marked his place in the book. He looked up and smiled when Peyton walked into the room.
"Lucas, I have to tell you something," Peyton said. Her voice was shaky. She was trying not to cry.
Lucas looked at Peyton. His forehead creased in concern. "Okay," he said.
"I have breast cancer," Peyton said.
Lucas shook his head. "No," he said.
A tear rolled down Peyton's cheek. "Yes," she said.
"How can you have cancer?" Lucas asked.
"Ellie had breast cancer. The odds are higher for people with a family history," Peyton said. Her voice was thick with tears.
"Ellie is dead. You could die," Lucas said.
"I know. I'm scared," Peyton admitted.
"What can we do to keep you alive?" Lucas asked.
"I need surgery," Peyton said.
"Okay," Lucas said.
"I don't want to tell anyone," Peyton said.
"Sawyer's going to know if you have surgery," Lucas pointed out.
"I don't want to worry her. I'm gonna be okay. We can tell her I'm in LA meeting with Rick about a new band," Peyton said.
Some people would call Lucas a hero. He puts his own life on the line to save the lives of others. He ran into a burning building to save Dan. He went back into Tree Hill High to rescue Peyton when Jimmy Edwards was holding students hostage. He doesn't leave others to fend for themselves. He couldn't be at home with Sawyer while Peyton was alone in a hospital.
Lucas wasn't going to tell Brooke that Peyton had cancer. He was just going to ask Brooke if Sawyer could stay with her. That was why he went to Brooke's house.
There are people who can see right through us. They know every facial expression, every tone of voice, and every mannerism. They always know when we're lying. They can sense our moods.
Lucas should have known Brooke would see right through him. Maybe he did know on some level. Maybe he needed to tell someone. Brooke had seen him at his best and at his worst. She took one look at him and knew this was worst.
"Lucas, what's wrong?" Brooke asked. Her voice was laced with concern.
"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," Lucas said.
"You can tell me anything," Brooke said.
"I know," Lucas said. "Peyton has breast cancer."
Brooke stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly. "Is she gonna be okay?" She asked.
"She's having surgery. If it works, she'll be fine," Lucas said.
"What if it doesn't work?" Brooke asked.
"Then we could lose her," Lucas said.
Tears stung Brooke's eyes. "Can I do anything?" She asked.
"Yeah. Can Sawyer stay here? Peyton doesn't want her to know she's having surgery. We're going to tell her that we're going out of town," Lucas said.
"Of course," Brooke said.
Brooke Davis was an expert at masking her emotions. She hid her feelings. She had an uncanny inability to appear cheerful, but things are not always as they appear. In high school, she told Lucas she wanted to date him and other people when the only person she wanted to be with was Lucas. He didn't see her fear. He just saw her cool confidence and cheerful smile. After she was attacked in her store, she looked at her best friend and told her the black eyes and bruises that not even Brooke could hide were from falling down the stairs. And Peyton believed her. Brooke was able to hide her feelings when she was the only one hurting. It was when other people were hurting that her emotions were exposed to the world. When she walked into Peyton's hospital room and saw Peyton lying in the bed, Brooke's sadness and fear were written all over her face.
"Brooke Davis, you are not crying," Peyton said.
Brooke wiped a tear away.
"I'm okay. I'm gonna be okay," Peyton said.
"I love you, P Sawyer," Brooke said. Her voice was thick with tears.
"You're something, you know that? I have cancer and you're the one that needs consoling," Peyton said. She smiled.
A smile flashed across Brooke's face. "Can I do anything?" She asked.
"You're doing it," Peyton said.
Brooke did the only thing she could do for Lucas and Peyton. She went to Tree Hill Middle School to pick Sawyer up. She wanted to do more. She needed to do more.
Sawyer saw Brooke's BMW waiting outside her school. She put her backpack and the duffel bag she'd packed in the backseat and got in the front.
"Hey," Brooke said. A wide smile stretched across her face, showing her dimples.
"Hey," Sawyer replied. She leaned over and gave Brooke a hug.
"We're going to the mall," Brooke said.
Brooke saw the same beauty in clothes that Peyton saw in songs. Just as a song could bring a smile to Peyton's face after a bad day, a dress could give Brooke a reason to smile when nothing was going her way. In high school, she went to the mall with Peyton. Now she was at the mall with Peyton's daughter.
At fourteen, Sawyer looked just like Peyton had when she was in high school. She even dressed like Peyton. She was tall and skinny. She wore her blonde hair down, letting the loose curls cascade down her back.
When Peyton told Brooke she was pregnant, Brooke knew she would love Peyton's child. The child could be a boy or girl. The child could act like Brooke's best friend or the boy Brooke had once loved. It didn't matter. Brooke's love was instantaneous and unconditional. Sawyer was her goddaughter. Even if Sawyer hadn't been anything to Brooke, Brooke would have liked her. She reminded Brooke of her best friend.
Brooke Davis was generous. She gave freely to people she loved and people she didn't know. All a model had to do was say she liked Brooke's design and it was hers. She gave hundreds of dollars worth of clothes to a teenager that tried to steal from her. She eventually gave that teenager much more than clothing. She would give until there was nothing left. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for the people she loved. She sacrificed her own happiness for them.
For every outfit Brooke bought for herself, she bought Sawyer two. She didn't have to give Sawyer anything. Sawyer loved Brooke. Brooke was her mom's best friend, her godmother, the woman she'd called "Aunt Brooke" since she started talking. It didn't matter that Brooke spoiled her with extravagant gifts. All that mattered was that Brooke had always been there for her. Sawyer didn't need any of the things Brooke bought for her. They were just things.
Brooke and Sawyer put all of the things Brooke bought in the back and got in the car.
"Thank you, Aunt Brooke," Sawyer said.
"Of course. What do you want for dinner? I can get Chinese take-out or we can order a pizza," Brooke said.
Sawyer smirked. "Are you ever going to learn how to cook?" She asked sarcastically.
"The last time I tried to cook, the smoke detectors went off," Brooke said.
"I can cook," Sawyer offered.
In Brooke's kitchen, Sawyer stood in front of the refrigerator looking at the contents. The refrigerator looked like it belonged to a college student, not a thirty-something. It had take-out cartons, beer, wine and hard liquor. Sawyer scraped together the ingredients to make pizza from scratch. She found a pizza pan in Brooke's cupboard. She was pre-heating the oven when Brooke walked into the kitchen.
"That oven hates me," Brooke said.
"Oh, I don't think it hates you. It's probably just scared of you," Sawyer said. She set the temperature on the oven and then looked up. She laughed when she saw Brooke wearing a red apron. "I never thought I'd see you in an apron."
"We're cooking together," Brooke said.
Sawyer smirked. "No, I'm cooking. You're just decorating the kitchen," she said.
Brooke kinked her eyebrows. "Do you want me to burn the house down?" She asked.
"Not really," Sawyer said.
Worrying doesn't accomplish anything. Worrying that a situation won't have the desired outcome doesn't change the outcome. We waste time worrying. We let our worries take away from our happiness. We let worry keep us up at night.
Brooke's worry that Peyton's surgery wouldn't work didn't change anything. It didn't change the surgeon's ability to remove the cancerous tissue. It didn't change Peyton's ability to fight the disease. Brooke enjoyed dinner with Sawyer, but her worry sapped her joy. Long after Sawyer fell asleep, Brooke was in her own bed tossing and turning because she couldn't stop worrying. Sawyer wouldn't have been able to sleep if she knew she should be worried, but she didn't know that her mom had cancer. She would be the last to know.
Secrets always come out. Oftentimes people trust the wrong person to keep their secret. Even the people we trust most can betray our trust. Maybe they think keeping the secret is hurting us more than it's helping us. Or maybe the burden of keeping our secret is too much for them to bear. Even if no one tells the truth, it is often plain to see.
Sawyer saw the effects of cancer long before she knew her mom had cancer. She saw the signs of exhaustion. Peyton had bags under her eyes. Peyton's movements were sluggish. Peyton would stop walking suddenly and grasp onto anything within reach: a chair, a table, a counter, or a wall. Sawyer saw the effect cancer had on her own life before she knew the reason for the changes. She missed her parents, who had always been her biggest fans, at her basketball games. She would be waiting outside of school for her mom and Brooke would show up to pick her up instead.
It wasn't until Peyton was starting chemotherapy that she finally told Sawyer the truth. A side effect of the chemo was hair loss. Peyton couldn't hide a bald head from her daughter.
Lucas indicated a chair at the kitchen table. "Sawyer, sit down," he said. His voice was grave.
Sawyer sat down.
Lucas and Peyton sat across from their daughter. Lucas reached for Peyton's hand. They locked eyes. Lucas nodded his head slightly in encouragement.
"Honey, I have to tell you something. I'm sick. I have cancer," Peyton said. Her voice was thick with tears.
Sawyer stared at her mom. It shouldn't have been shocking and yet her mouth opened slightly. It was a reasonable explanation for her mom's fatigue and her parents' unexplained absences. Sawyer's wide eyes narrowed. "You've been sick for awhile, haven't you?" She asked. Her mom didn't answer right away. "Haven't you!"
"Sawyer, I was going to tell you. It's just you've been so happy and I didn't want you to worry," Peyton said quickly.
"So you lied?" Sawyer asked angrily.
"I'm sorry," Peyton said.
"How could you just act like nothing's wrong when you have cancer?" Sawyer asked.
"Because I'm gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay. You have nothing to worry about," Peyton said.
"I am worried about you," Sawyer said.
"And I love you for that, but, Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here," Peyton said.
"We are going to do whatever it takes to keep your mom alive," Lucas said. His jaw set in determination.
"Okay," Sawyer said.
That was the last thing Sawyer said before she left the kitchen for the solitude of her room. Her parents watched her leave. They only knew what she told them. They didn't know that they'd lost her trust. They didn't know that their daughter was sitting at her desk looking up cancer survival rates on the Internet.
Sawyer hadn't asked any questions because she wouldn't believe the answers if they came from her parents. She got the answers she needed from the Internet, but she didn't like them. She would spend the next two years living in fear that her mom was about to become a statistic.