Willow made up her mind to call Razzel as soon as she got home. She decided her mother was right; it didn’t matter who made the first move. Time was being wasted and Grandma Trisha’s death had helped Willow realize how truly precious time could be. She couldn’t wait to tell Razzel about her adventure in self-defense. No sooner did she hang up her coat when the phone rang.
“I’ll get it!” Willow called out. She could hear her mother putting groceries away in the kitchen.
Willow recognized the number on the caller ID and smiled. She answered the phone on the third ring, eager to hear Razzel's voice.
"’Bout time, loser,” Willow teased.
"Hello, Willow, it's Mrs. Fiora."
Willow paused for a moment before responding.
"Oh … hi, Mrs. Fiora. Is everything okay?"
"Willow, I heard about what happened between you and Razzel and I feel terrible about it. I know she can be a stubborn hot-head - she gets that from her father - but I was wondering if there was any way I could convince you to come by the house tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"If at all possible. I really feel like Razzel needs you right now."
"Is she alright?" Willow asked, suddenly panic-stricken.
"Oh, she's fine. I just hate to see the two of you mad at one another. Please, Willow, will you come?"
"Sure, Mrs. Fiora. I'll be there. I just have to do some chores in the morning. I'll stop by as soon as I’m done."
"Oh, that sounds great, Willow. Thank you. Please give my best to your mom and Wyatt."
"Will do. See you tomorrow."
"Good bye, Willow."
Willow hung up the phone and felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. She would stop by Razzel’s tomorrow, tell her about the incident in the park and everything would be back to normal. She hoped when she briefed Razzel on how Shayla put Snella and her cronies in their place, Razzel would at least attempt to see Shayla in a new light. But if not, she would give her some time.
The following morning, Willow leapt onto her chores, completing them in record time. She checked the bus schedule and ran to catch the 9:15. When she arrived at Razzel's house, it was as if the fight between them had never transpired; it felt routine to get together over the weekend. As she made her way up the Fiora’s walkway, she could see that they had hung up their Christmas lights. A feeling of elation overcame Willow as she climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell.
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“It’s open,” called Mrs. Fiora’s voice.
As Willow opened the front door, she was surprised to find the living room cloaked in darkness, with all of the blinds drawn. A small antique lamp gave off the slightest bit of light on an end-table alongside the sofa. Willow could see the silhouette of Mrs. Fiora who pointed upward, without a sound, signaling Razzel was in her bedroom.
Willow quietly removed her coat and gloves and climbed the stairs to the second floor. When she reached Razzel's room, she thought about barging in, as she and Razzel often did on one another, but given the circumstances, she decided to knock.
"Yeah?" a faint whisper called out from behind the door. Willow barely recognized the voice of her best friend.
"Raz, it’s me. Can I come in?"
There was a pause of silence before Razzel’s response.
"No,” she muttered. “I can't talk right now."
"Raz, I know you're angry. I was upset too, but we need to talk about this.”
After another brief pause …
"I can't talk right now ... I'll try to call you later."
Willow was growing frustrated. She rushed to get through her chores, skipped her Saturday reading session and ran to catch the bus, only to be turned away?
"Raz, this is stupid. I'm here now. Can't we just talk?"
There was no reply. Willow put her ear against the door and was surprised to hear what sounded like a faint whimper, but it couldn't be. Willow regretted the way she chose to handle her argument with Razzel, but she never expected it to affect Razzel this deeply. She decided to enter Razzel's room. She opened the door to find her best friend lying in bed, face down, sobbing into a pillow. Willow rushed over to her and sat beside her.
"Raz, are you alright?"
Razzel sat up, replacing the pillow on her face with her two hands.
Raz, what is it?
Razzel didn’t respond, but continued to weep behind her mask.
"Razzel, talk to me," Willow insisted, prying Razzel’s hands away from her face, revealing a stream of tears.
"I'm fine," sobbed Razzel, wiping her tears with her right sleeve.
"Raz, I’ve never seen you like this. What happened?"
Razzel stared at Willow for a few moments before finally responding.
"It's … my … my mom.”
"What about her? I just saw her downstairs. She seemed fine."
"She's just putting up a front for my benefit. She’s ... she’s ... " Razzel broke down once again, masking her tears behind her hands.
Willow grabbed Razzel by her wrists and pried her hands away from her face for a second time.
"Tell me, Raz!"
Razzel covered her face yet again. Willow was beginning to grow weary of this game.
"Razzel Fiora!" she said sternly, "are you going to tell me what's going on or do I need to speak to your mother?"
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Razzel unmasked her face and began wiping her tears with the only dry sleeve she had left.
"She's sick, Will”
"How sick?"
"Can't get any sicker. Cancer - stage four. Doctors said if they caught it sooner, they could have tried to treat it earlier, but they said it mestasi … matasti … ”
“Metastasized?” Willow cut in.
“That’s it,” sobbed Razzel. “Just their fancy way of saying how much it spread. My mom’s been sick for a while, but she finally decided to clue me in yesterday. ”
Razzel broke down for a third time, prompting Willow to pull her hands away from her face, yet again.
"Raz, it's gonna be okay ... I promise you."
"I know you'll be here for me, Will, but it's never going to be okay – not without my mom."
Willow and Razzel had been through a lot together over their decade of friendship. Razzel had her share of angry moments - too many to count - but Willow had never experienced her friend in this emotional state. Razzel knew she couldn’t threaten the cancer; she couldn’t beat it into submission; clever insults wouldn’t make it go away... She felt completely powerless. The tears were coming faster now, easier.
Willow pulled Razzel toward her and embraced her as Razzel began to wail on Willow's shoulder.
"Shhhh. It's okay, Raz,” she said in a whisper. “I won't let this happen."
Razzel pulled away from Willow, now drying her tears with the back of her hands. She looked at her best friend and forced a smile.
"You're crazy, you know that? There's a lot you can do, Will. I envy you more than you can imagine, but this ... this is just something you can't fix – no one can."
Willow grabbed Razzel by her wrist and yanked her off her bed, pulling her toward the bedroom door.
"Let’s go," she said firmly.
Razzel was dumbfounded as she grabbed her glasses from her nightstand, tripping over her own dirty laundry dispersed on her bedroom floor.
"Where we going?"
"We need to see your mom!"
"Will, I really don't think she wants to see anyone. She's really tired and - "
"This'll only take a minute."
Willow bounded down the stairs with Razzel at her heals. Willow reached for the light switch at the bottom of the staircase and flipped it up to find Mrs. Fiora lying on the sofa, her eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. She seemed thinner than the last time Willow had seen her, and her beautiful cinnamon skin appeared to have lost its radiance.
"See … " said Razzel, " … she needs to rest."
"She has the rest of her life to rest,” replied Willow very matter-of-factly.
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Razzel gave Willow a disconcerted stare.
"Mrs. Fiora!" bellowed Willow.
Mrs. Fiora woke with a start.
"Oh … Willow, hello again," she said, straightening up. "Everything okay between my two favorite girls?”
Willow sat down beside Mrs. Fiora, as Razzel looked on, confounded by her friend's actions.
"Your hand may be enough," said Willow, ignoring Mrs. Fiora’s question, "but just in case, where exactly is this cancer?"
Mrs. Fiora looked a bit stunned. She gave Razzel a puzzled expression as Razzel shrugged, sharing in her mother’s bewilderment.
"Well, Willow … it’s gastric cancer. It started in my stomach and - "
Before Mrs. Fiora could continue, she was startled by Willow rolling up her shirt just enough to reveal Mrs. Fiora's belly button. Willow placed both her hands on Mrs. Fiora’s stomach, forcing her to flinch.
"Sorry," said Willow, "my hands are always cold. Just try to relax."
Out of sheer shock and confusion, Mrs. Fiora and Razzel did not move a muscle.
"Come on …" said Willow, her eyes focused on her target, "… go away … she's way too young for this … not her … she needs to stay.... ”
Willow looked into Mrs. Fiora’s eyes and could see that there had been no change in her frail appearance. Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. She found herself thinking about her father - how withered and worn he looked during his final days. Her eyes remained shut as she began her chant once again.
“Come on, she’s a mom! She’s someone’s mom! I can’t – I WON’T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN! SHE NEEDS TO STAY!”
Willow opened her eyes and knew there was still no change. Mrs. Fiora looked as confused and as fragile as ever, while Razzel continued to look on in disbelief.
Willow closed her eyes once more, her hands now trembling as images of her past flooded through her. She witnessed a seven-year-old girl dressed in black, clinging to her mother’s side as a coffin was being lowered into the cold, wet ground. Rain drops intermingled with tears on the little girl’s face as she tossed a book of children’s poetry into the muddy pit that would soon be sealed off forever.
Razzel and Mrs. Fiora could see tears beginning to seep through Willow’s closed lids as she began her final plea …
“HER DAUGHTER NEEDS HER, DAMN IT! YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HER! I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS TO THEM – YOU HEAR ME? YOU’RE NOT STRONGER THAN ME! YOU’RE NOT STRONGER! YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HER – NOW!”
Willow awoke to find herself lying on Razzel's couch, while Mrs. Fiora was dabbing a cold, damp cloth on her face. She had no sense of how much time had elapsed since she had placed her hands on Mrs. Fiora’s stomach.
"Will!" Razzel shouted. "You're awake!"
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"What happened?" said Willow, beginning to sit up.
Mrs. Fiora and Razzel glared at one another, but Mrs. Fiora was the first to speak.
"You tell us. One moment, I'm sitting here, sick and exhausted … the next moment, I feel recovered and full of energy while you’re lying lifeless on the floor."
"I fainted?" asked Willow, now sitting, clasping her forehead.
"More than that," said Razzel. "Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you let out this crazy scream. Then, you just went limp. Freaked me out big-time!"
Willow felt nauseous. Why hadn't this happened to her before? She had an unnerving suspicion.
"Raz," she said, "what's that gash on the back of your hand?"
"What? Oh, I didn't even realize. I must have scraped it against the coffee table trying to lift you up. You rolled off the couch and - "
Razzel was interrupted by Willow grabbing her wrist, yanking her towards the sofa, forcing Razzel to sit beside her. Willow placed her fingers on Razzel's scrape, the room fell silent and then ...
"It's gone," Willow whispered.
Razzel stared at the long scrape on the back of her hand. The scarlet streak was more apparent, now that it was beginning to throb.
"Will? You okay?"
"It's gone," Willow repeated, “I can’t do it anymore.” She quickly looked up at Mrs. Fiora. "Are you sure you’re - "
"Positive, Willow," Mrs. Fiora beamed. "I don't need to be a doctor to know that my strength has returned."
"Then that was ... that was the last time," said Willow.
Kneeling alongside Willow, Mrs. Fiora grabbed her right hand.
"Willow, I don't know how you …” Mrs. Fiora ran her hand over Willow’s cheek. “There are just no words to express my gratitude. You've been an angel to my daughter for all these years, and now … "
Willow could see tears forming in Mrs. Fiora's hazel eyes as they gazed into Willow’s without blinking. It was a relief to see tears that were not rooted in sadness for a change.
Razzel scooted over to get closer to Willow and threw her arms around her. She rested her head on Willow’s shoulder and tightened her embrace.
“Thanks for always taking care of me, Will.”
Next Chapter
“I’ll get it!” Willow called out. She could hear her mother putting groceries away in the kitchen.
Willow recognized the number on the caller ID and smiled. She answered the phone on the third ring, eager to hear Razzel's voice.
"’Bout time, loser,” Willow teased.
"Hello, Willow, it's Mrs. Fiora."
Willow paused for a moment before responding.
"Oh … hi, Mrs. Fiora. Is everything okay?"
"Willow, I heard about what happened between you and Razzel and I feel terrible about it. I know she can be a stubborn hot-head - she gets that from her father - but I was wondering if there was any way I could convince you to come by the house tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"If at all possible. I really feel like Razzel needs you right now."
"Is she alright?" Willow asked, suddenly panic-stricken.
"Oh, she's fine. I just hate to see the two of you mad at one another. Please, Willow, will you come?"
"Sure, Mrs. Fiora. I'll be there. I just have to do some chores in the morning. I'll stop by as soon as I’m done."
"Oh, that sounds great, Willow. Thank you. Please give my best to your mom and Wyatt."
"Will do. See you tomorrow."
"Good bye, Willow."
Willow hung up the phone and felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. She would stop by Razzel’s tomorrow, tell her about the incident in the park and everything would be back to normal. She hoped when she briefed Razzel on how Shayla put Snella and her cronies in their place, Razzel would at least attempt to see Shayla in a new light. But if not, she would give her some time.
The following morning, Willow leapt onto her chores, completing them in record time. She checked the bus schedule and ran to catch the 9:15. When she arrived at Razzel's house, it was as if the fight between them had never transpired; it felt routine to get together over the weekend. As she made her way up the Fiora’s walkway, she could see that they had hung up their Christmas lights. A feeling of elation overcame Willow as she climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell.
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“It’s open,” called Mrs. Fiora’s voice.
As Willow opened the front door, she was surprised to find the living room cloaked in darkness, with all of the blinds drawn. A small antique lamp gave off the slightest bit of light on an end-table alongside the sofa. Willow could see the silhouette of Mrs. Fiora who pointed upward, without a sound, signaling Razzel was in her bedroom.
Willow quietly removed her coat and gloves and climbed the stairs to the second floor. When she reached Razzel's room, she thought about barging in, as she and Razzel often did on one another, but given the circumstances, she decided to knock.
"Yeah?" a faint whisper called out from behind the door. Willow barely recognized the voice of her best friend.
"Raz, it’s me. Can I come in?"
There was a pause of silence before Razzel’s response.
"No,” she muttered. “I can't talk right now."
"Raz, I know you're angry. I was upset too, but we need to talk about this.”
After another brief pause …
"I can't talk right now ... I'll try to call you later."
Willow was growing frustrated. She rushed to get through her chores, skipped her Saturday reading session and ran to catch the bus, only to be turned away?
"Raz, this is stupid. I'm here now. Can't we just talk?"
There was no reply. Willow put her ear against the door and was surprised to hear what sounded like a faint whimper, but it couldn't be. Willow regretted the way she chose to handle her argument with Razzel, but she never expected it to affect Razzel this deeply. She decided to enter Razzel's room. She opened the door to find her best friend lying in bed, face down, sobbing into a pillow. Willow rushed over to her and sat beside her.
"Raz, are you alright?"
Razzel sat up, replacing the pillow on her face with her two hands.
Raz, what is it?
Razzel didn’t respond, but continued to weep behind her mask.
"Razzel, talk to me," Willow insisted, prying Razzel’s hands away from her face, revealing a stream of tears.
"I'm fine," sobbed Razzel, wiping her tears with her right sleeve.
"Raz, I’ve never seen you like this. What happened?"
Razzel stared at Willow for a few moments before finally responding.
"It's … my … my mom.”
"What about her? I just saw her downstairs. She seemed fine."
"She's just putting up a front for my benefit. She’s ... she’s ... " Razzel broke down once again, masking her tears behind her hands.
Willow grabbed Razzel by her wrists and pried her hands away from her face for a second time.
"Tell me, Raz!"
Razzel covered her face yet again. Willow was beginning to grow weary of this game.
"Razzel Fiora!" she said sternly, "are you going to tell me what's going on or do I need to speak to your mother?"
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Razzel unmasked her face and began wiping her tears with the only dry sleeve she had left.
"She's sick, Will”
"How sick?"
"Can't get any sicker. Cancer - stage four. Doctors said if they caught it sooner, they could have tried to treat it earlier, but they said it mestasi … matasti … ”
“Metastasized?” Willow cut in.
“That’s it,” sobbed Razzel. “Just their fancy way of saying how much it spread. My mom’s been sick for a while, but she finally decided to clue me in yesterday. ”
Razzel broke down for a third time, prompting Willow to pull her hands away from her face, yet again.
"Raz, it's gonna be okay ... I promise you."
"I know you'll be here for me, Will, but it's never going to be okay – not without my mom."
Willow and Razzel had been through a lot together over their decade of friendship. Razzel had her share of angry moments - too many to count - but Willow had never experienced her friend in this emotional state. Razzel knew she couldn’t threaten the cancer; she couldn’t beat it into submission; clever insults wouldn’t make it go away... She felt completely powerless. The tears were coming faster now, easier.
Willow pulled Razzel toward her and embraced her as Razzel began to wail on Willow's shoulder.
"Shhhh. It's okay, Raz,” she said in a whisper. “I won't let this happen."
Razzel pulled away from Willow, now drying her tears with the back of her hands. She looked at her best friend and forced a smile.
"You're crazy, you know that? There's a lot you can do, Will. I envy you more than you can imagine, but this ... this is just something you can't fix – no one can."
Willow grabbed Razzel by her wrist and yanked her off her bed, pulling her toward the bedroom door.
"Let’s go," she said firmly.
Razzel was dumbfounded as she grabbed her glasses from her nightstand, tripping over her own dirty laundry dispersed on her bedroom floor.
"Where we going?"
"We need to see your mom!"
"Will, I really don't think she wants to see anyone. She's really tired and - "
"This'll only take a minute."
Willow bounded down the stairs with Razzel at her heals. Willow reached for the light switch at the bottom of the staircase and flipped it up to find Mrs. Fiora lying on the sofa, her eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. She seemed thinner than the last time Willow had seen her, and her beautiful cinnamon skin appeared to have lost its radiance.
"See … " said Razzel, " … she needs to rest."
"She has the rest of her life to rest,” replied Willow very matter-of-factly.
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Razzel gave Willow a disconcerted stare.
"Mrs. Fiora!" bellowed Willow.
Mrs. Fiora woke with a start.
"Oh … Willow, hello again," she said, straightening up. "Everything okay between my two favorite girls?”
Willow sat down beside Mrs. Fiora, as Razzel looked on, confounded by her friend's actions.
"Your hand may be enough," said Willow, ignoring Mrs. Fiora’s question, "but just in case, where exactly is this cancer?"
Mrs. Fiora looked a bit stunned. She gave Razzel a puzzled expression as Razzel shrugged, sharing in her mother’s bewilderment.
"Well, Willow … it’s gastric cancer. It started in my stomach and - "
Before Mrs. Fiora could continue, she was startled by Willow rolling up her shirt just enough to reveal Mrs. Fiora's belly button. Willow placed both her hands on Mrs. Fiora’s stomach, forcing her to flinch.
"Sorry," said Willow, "my hands are always cold. Just try to relax."
Out of sheer shock and confusion, Mrs. Fiora and Razzel did not move a muscle.
"Come on …" said Willow, her eyes focused on her target, "… go away … she's way too young for this … not her … she needs to stay.... ”
Willow looked into Mrs. Fiora’s eyes and could see that there had been no change in her frail appearance. Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. She found herself thinking about her father - how withered and worn he looked during his final days. Her eyes remained shut as she began her chant once again.
“Come on, she’s a mom! She’s someone’s mom! I can’t – I WON’T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN! SHE NEEDS TO STAY!”
Willow opened her eyes and knew there was still no change. Mrs. Fiora looked as confused and as fragile as ever, while Razzel continued to look on in disbelief.
Willow closed her eyes once more, her hands now trembling as images of her past flooded through her. She witnessed a seven-year-old girl dressed in black, clinging to her mother’s side as a coffin was being lowered into the cold, wet ground. Rain drops intermingled with tears on the little girl’s face as she tossed a book of children’s poetry into the muddy pit that would soon be sealed off forever.
Razzel and Mrs. Fiora could see tears beginning to seep through Willow’s closed lids as she began her final plea …
“HER DAUGHTER NEEDS HER, DAMN IT! YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HER! I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS TO THEM – YOU HEAR ME? YOU’RE NOT STRONGER THAN ME! YOU’RE NOT STRONGER! YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HER – NOW!”
Willow awoke to find herself lying on Razzel's couch, while Mrs. Fiora was dabbing a cold, damp cloth on her face. She had no sense of how much time had elapsed since she had placed her hands on Mrs. Fiora’s stomach.
"Will!" Razzel shouted. "You're awake!"
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"What happened?" said Willow, beginning to sit up.
Mrs. Fiora and Razzel glared at one another, but Mrs. Fiora was the first to speak.
"You tell us. One moment, I'm sitting here, sick and exhausted … the next moment, I feel recovered and full of energy while you’re lying lifeless on the floor."
"I fainted?" asked Willow, now sitting, clasping her forehead.
"More than that," said Razzel. "Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you let out this crazy scream. Then, you just went limp. Freaked me out big-time!"
Willow felt nauseous. Why hadn't this happened to her before? She had an unnerving suspicion.
"Raz," she said, "what's that gash on the back of your hand?"
"What? Oh, I didn't even realize. I must have scraped it against the coffee table trying to lift you up. You rolled off the couch and - "
Razzel was interrupted by Willow grabbing her wrist, yanking her towards the sofa, forcing Razzel to sit beside her. Willow placed her fingers on Razzel's scrape, the room fell silent and then ...
"It's gone," Willow whispered.
Razzel stared at the long scrape on the back of her hand. The scarlet streak was more apparent, now that it was beginning to throb.
"Will? You okay?"
"It's gone," Willow repeated, “I can’t do it anymore.” She quickly looked up at Mrs. Fiora. "Are you sure you’re - "
"Positive, Willow," Mrs. Fiora beamed. "I don't need to be a doctor to know that my strength has returned."
"Then that was ... that was the last time," said Willow.
Kneeling alongside Willow, Mrs. Fiora grabbed her right hand.
"Willow, I don't know how you …” Mrs. Fiora ran her hand over Willow’s cheek. “There are just no words to express my gratitude. You've been an angel to my daughter for all these years, and now … "
Willow could see tears forming in Mrs. Fiora's hazel eyes as they gazed into Willow’s without blinking. It was a relief to see tears that were not rooted in sadness for a change.
Razzel scooted over to get closer to Willow and threw her arms around her. She rested her head on Willow’s shoulder and tightened her embrace.
“Thanks for always taking care of me, Will.”
Next Chapter
