Ordinary, chapter 6
warnings: sadness and mild language.
rating: pg-13
summary: Ian is diagnosed with cancer. This chapter, he sees his mother for the first time since the diagnosis.
Ordinary, chapter six
Back in the waiting room. Ian moved his hands nervously, shifting his legs and looking at the clock. Anthony had told him the plumber was coming over between one and four, so Ian wasn't worried about missing Mailtime. He was worried about this session. He didn't want to spent every Monday miserable because of a therapist for the rest of his life, but he didn't know how much it could help him to stay. Last week, they'd only talked for a few minutes, only about Ian's mother. What would they discuss now?
"Ian Hecox." Ruby called with her nasal voice. Ian gave the red lipstick lover a polite smile as he walked into Kris' office. Kris looked up and smiled, sitting behind his desk and shuffling papers.
"Why hello, Ian, I feel as though it's been ages! Please, sit in one of my comfy chairs, I'll be with you in a moment." Ian did as the man insisted and sat down in the plush chair he was in the last week. He curled comfortably into it, not used to expensive furniture. After a moment, Kris stood up, and moved to the chair beside him. "I feel you must know, Ian, that I usually keep my notes in my lap when I'm with a patient, but I feel in light of your...situation, I can just keep records after our appointments. Is that alright?"
"Yeah," said Ian, and out of curiosity asked "Why do you keep records?"
"As a doctor, it's necessary to have records of all of my patients. Other doctors may need to look at a psychological past incase of head trauma or brain disease. Although you're suffering from stomach cancer, it's best to be safe."
Ian flinched at the word cancer. It had been one he'd avoided all week.
"Something wrong, Ian? Not a fan of the term?" Kris actually looked concerned, but Ian still had a nagging feeling he was some sort of case study.
"No, it's just..." He trailed off, looking around the room. It was filled with deep, rich colors, Earth tones designed to make people feel comfortable. He gathered his strength and looked back. "I don't want to accidentally admit it. Like, I don't want to say, 'oh hey, Mom, I have cancer. Want something to drink?' It would destroy her."
"So," Kris studied, "you haven't told your mother? Who have you told?"
Ian shook his head. "No one, no one yet. I can't." he didn't want to keep talking about it, but Kris gave him a pressing look.
"You can't?"
"I'm not-" Ian swallowed, trying to calm his nerves. His hands were shaking and his palms were sweating. "I'm not strong enough. To tell them, to see them hurt so much. To get months of pity and getting treated so differently. I don't want them stopping their lives and having six months of pain and-and anguish while they wait for me to-" tears blurred his vision, and he turned away. He took deep breaths, trying not to let them spill over.
"While they wait for you to..." Kris said gently.
"Die." Ian said it softly, then sobbed, lowering his head and pressing a hand to his forehead. Kris handed him a tissue from the box on the table next to them.
"I'm sorry Ian, it seems like a cruel thing to do, but I'm here to get you to accept your death. Not to make it seem like it's not a big deal, it's a huge deal...so young...but to keep you sane during your last few months, keep you comfortable. Along with your proper diet, medication and exercise, having a therapist, having this stability every week, is a great way to keep you from going mad. You're hurt and you're under a lot of pressure. You need me right now." Ian sobbed, accepted the tissue, and tried to control himself.
"We don't need to talk about anything too serious right now. Let's talk about your mother, Ian. When you're ready."
There were several minutes of silence as Ian calmed himself down. Finally, he began.
"My mom's favorite color is blue." He knew he sounded stupid, but kept going. "So every year I get her a blue birthday present. Blue's my favorite color, too, so every year she gets me something blue. She's in my video's almost every week, and I'm going to film with her tomorrow. I haven't seen her since I found out. I-I can't tell her. I love her so much."
"It's okay, Ian. Your mom must be so proud of you." Kris was warm, reaching out and patting Ian's arm.
"Yeah, she is. She always says, 'I can't believe all you've done. My little blue-eyes is bigger than Shirley Temple!'" He chuckled at his own bad impression. Ian never saw anything wrong with laughing at your own jokes, he was one of those people who believed in loving yourself and everything weird, crazy, or funny about you.
Kris smiled. "So you see her tomorrow, then?" Ian sighed, and nodded. "Well, my boy, I won't lie and tell you that it's okay, that everything's peachy keen. It's a son leaving his mother, and it's painful, and it's unfair. But we can't stop it. So heed this advice; love your mother, love her as you did before, and when you're gone, she'll have that love to keep her warm."
Ian nodded, and they spent their remaining hour talking about his mother.
***
Mailtime with Smosh was similar to last week's. Ian pretended things were fine, Anthony oblivious, while he sat and pondered therapy. Kris was right, he did need it. If he wasn't with the man an hour a week, he couldn't imagine how out of control his feelings might get. The thought of losing control and doing something insane, like telling everyone, or leaving early, terrified him.
Not that he would kill himself. No, not now. He'd been depressed and thought of it before, in high school, during college, when he was feeling empty a year ago. But now, never. With such little time left, he wanted every second. Which was why he needed Kris.
He also thought a lot about his mom. He thought of her living without him. He thought of her standing at his grave, dressed in black and holding blue flowers. He knew seeing her tomorrow would be Hell, but Kris had asked him to be strong, and love his mother just as usual, so that's what he planned on doing. He felt better today, and had only thrown up in the morning and after therapy, so he had high hopes for the next day. He finished filming with Anthony as usual, feeling uncomfortable with faking his death yet again, but it went off without a hitch.
The pair spent the next few hours editing, until Anthony eventually went home, and Ian dragged himself to bed, exhausted.
The next day, Ian woke up with an idea. He ate an apple, threw up, took a shower, and made sure he was cleaned up before the crew got there. He didn't want some sort of evidence ratting him out. Ant came first, around ten, and the crew began to file in about a half hour later. They did some filming, and Ian's mom arrived at almost noon.
Ian had probably never been that nervous in his entire life. All he wanted was for his mom not to find out. He couldn't even consider what he would do if she did. She walked through the door, smiling and greeting the crew, and put her purse on the table. As she rummaged through it, Ian walked up nervously behind her.
"Oh, hi sweetie." She turned and said with a smile.
"Hey mom," Ian said, pulling her into his usual customary hug. "ready to film?"
And just like that, he was fine. As they filmed, everything was as usual, life was ordinary. Ian didn't tell his mom, and she didn't get suspicious. No one did. All Ian could feel, besides a cramp in his stomach, was relief. His mother didn't need to know yet.
After a long day of filming, just as his mom was leaving, Ian recalled his idea from that morning. He pulled her aside and mentioned it casually.
"Oh hey, do you remember my friend Kevin?"
His mom thought a moment, then shook her head. Ian smiled gently. It seemed everything he did off camera with his mother was gentle.
"He works at the YMCA downtown, and he needed another youth counselor, since the last one moved away. I'm volunteering there an hour every Monday." Ian's mom lit up, looking proud.
"Oh, honey, that's lovely! You'll be helping a lot of kids in need, I'm so happy for you!" She hugged him and stood up to kiss his head. Ian faked annoyance, but he really just wanted to hold her, apologize for lying, and most of all, apologize for leaving her so early. But he knew he couldn't, and only gave her customary goodbyes, sending her home smiling.
"Hey." Anthony came up to him, holding a fake arm and some face paint. "Did I hear right? Youth counselor?"
"Yeah, it won't get in the way of Ian is Bored, it's only an hour." Ian was truthful with this, just as he was truthful that his friend Kevin worked at the Y. But he didn't need a counselor, it was just convenient because neither his mom or Anthony knew him.
"Good for you, man." Anthony said seriously. "I'm gonna head home. Be ready to fall into the dog shit tomorrow." He grabbed his coat from the couch and moved towards the door.
"It's fake, you ass." Ian rolled his eyes.
"No, it came from ass." Anthony winked and walked out. "See ya."
Ian smiled, then, crippled by exhaustion and nausea, went to the bathroom. He threw up and slept on the floor, but it was the first day since he was diagnosed that he didn't cry. While the pain was still high, he had relief in the knowledge that he'd survived the first day with his mother without telling her, and expected to be able to keep it from her a while longer. Temporarily, he was satisfied.