Free Wish Upon a Star by Jim Cangany

like I've
just run over one of your stupid bikes? Some show of gratitude."
    The tension between us was rising like a helium-filled
balloon that had escaped from its owner. My hands trembled. "You
don't understand." The force of the words practically bounced off the
garage door.
    With wide eyes, Annie leaned away from me. "Don't you
dare shout at me, mister. I don't take that from anybody, including
you."
    I froze, the lead boiling in me turning to ice. My voice
cracked. "I can't believe this is happening." I grabbed my hair with
both hands and pulled. What was happening to me?
    "What's happening?" She reached toward me, stopping
midway. "What don't I understand?"
    "I just..." I turned away from her and sprinted into the
condo, unable to face the demon waging war with my soul.
    I'd been pacing back and forth on the patio for probably an
hour or so when Annie slid the door open. "We need to talk about
this E.J."
    "No we don't." I kept my focus on my shoes and away from
her.
    "Yes, we do." There was steel in her voice that I hadn't heard
since she'd dealt with a slimy promotions agent in London. It was a
tone that didn't accept backtalk. I turned and looked at her. I didn't
see the in-command rock star the world adored.
    I saw a young woman without a single hair on her head
battling an insidious disease just to stay alive. At the same time, she
was battling a stubborn jerk to keep our relationship alive. Her teeth
were chattering and she was shivering, but she wouldn't release me
from her gaze.
    Just like that, the anger-filled adrenaline rush ran out and
was replaced with emptiness. "You're right." I followed Annie
indoors, hoping I had the strength to fess up and release this demon
once and for all.
    I slumped into the middle cushion of the couch and put my
elbows on my knees. Annie placed her hand on my thigh.
    "E.J., honey, I love you. But we need to talk about what's
hurting you. This isn't easy for me either. But if we're going to make
this work, make us work, we have to communicate. So talk to
me."
    I glanced at my North Star and then went back to staring at
the tops of my shoes. "It's just that the car meant a lot to me. A lot of
memories go with it. And then you just went and..."
    Annie took a deep breath, nodded and sat up straight. "All
right. I accept that in my haste to surprise you, it didn't occur to me
how attached you are, were, to that car. And for that, I
apologize."
    "Thanks." When she remained silent, I went on. "And I know
you weren't trying to hurt me. You were trying to make me
happy."
    "Thank you. May I ask why that car meant so much to
you?"
    The question made me bristle. "You know that."
    She put hands up in front of her. "I'm sorry, but I don't."
    I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. When Annie
declined my offer to get her one, I popped bottle cap and took a long
swig. "That was Mom's car. And since she's been gone, taking care of
it's been one way to keep her memory alive."
    "She meant a great deal to you."
    "Of course she did. You've heard enough stories to know
that."
    "And losing her the way you did. That was hard."
    After taking another long pull, I nodded. "Yeah."
    "Why?"
    Anger was starting to bubble up in my gut again. I slammed
the bottle on the counter. "Do we really have to do this?"
    Annie rose. "I know this hurts, honey. But please, yes we do.
I think deep down, even farther than you realize, you're hurting. You
have been for a long time. Longer than you can imagine. And we need
to get down there." She took a tentative step toward me. "Please
trust me on this. I understand."
    I studied her. She was the one with cancer. She was the one
who was in constant discomfort. She was the one who had lost her
hair and was losing weight. And she was the one who was making
the effort to make me better.
    She was the strong one.
    "I guess the hardest thing was watching Mom slowly slip
away, day by bay, a little bit at a time. And there wasn't a damn thing
I could do about it. All I could do was