“Okay, so now that you’re settled in,” Elle began, “I may or may not have a surprise for you.”
“Is it a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s and a new body that doesn’t hurt? Because if it’s none of those things, I don’t want it.”
Elle watched me with sympathetic eyes. “I’d like to think it’s better than any of those things.”
“Oh? Then hit me with it. Preferably over the head so it knocks me out and I can stop feeling like a train ran me over.” Elle reached inside of her purse and pulled out a stack of papers, setting them down in front of me. I picked up the stack and thumbed through it. “Is this what I think it is?”
She smiled, pleased with herself. “I know, right? I did it. I finished a book. Oh, Mena, I’m so proud of it. It’s a compilation of poems I’ve written through the years and, of course, new ones, too. It has a whole female empowerment theme to it. You know, girl power and stuff …Wait, are you crying?”
“No,” I answered her, rubbing my eyes. “I just had surgery, and I’m on heavy pain killers. My body is doing some weird shit.”
“Uh-huh,” Elle rolled her eyes, seeing right through me. “It’s just missing one thing.” She picked up the manuscript, flipping through the pages.
“Romance? Intrigue?”
“Your personal touch. I paint with words. You paint with a pencil. Plus, you already said you would do it. No takebacks, you know.”
“Is this my copy?” I held out my hand, taking the manuscript from Elle.
“It’s all yours.”
“Seeing as how I’m off work for the next two weeks and my only plans involve watching entirely too much daytime television while trying to avoid finishing off our entire supply of wine as I await my biopsy results, I think I may be able to sketch a few things for you. It will be a welcome distraction.”
Elle clapped her hands together, emitting an ear-piercing squeal.
“And now all the dogs in the neighborhood have been briefed on our plan to take over the literary world,” I said, rubbing my ears.
“I’m just so excited. I may actually be a real author.”
“You’re already a real author. You finished a book. Now whether or not you become a published author is what we have to work on, and I promise you I’ll do whatever I can, but I can’t guarantee anything. Phineas isn’t exactly interested in poetry. It’s going to take some convincing on my part to get him to spend longer than ten seconds looking at this.”
“It’s okay, really. Even if it never gets published, I still wrote a book. And I’ll write more. I’ll keep writing until someone publishes me.”
I smiled. “You know, I really like this new, assertive Elle.”
“As do I. Besides, I have faith in you. I think you’ll be able to get Phineas to spend a solid thirty seconds on my manuscript before he rejects it.” Elle turned her focus to the bouquet of orchids resting in a vase on my coffee table.
“What makes you think that?”
“Please, Mena. You’ve hardly made eye contact with me since you’ve been home. Those orchids from your office have made you their captive audience.”
“I’m sore and I can’t move. They just happen to be in my field of vision.”
“Mena …”
“You know, the strange thing is that he said the flowers were from the office, but as far as anyone at the office knows, I’m just on a two-week vacation visiting family in Ohio. I don’t understand why he would lie to me about that.”
“I think you do.” Elle glanced at her phone. “It’s getting late. I should probably get back to Luke at the hotel. Are you okay? Do you need anything before I go?”
“Just my phone on the kitchen counter.”
“I can handle that.”
I yawned. The lingering effects of the anesthesia had been kicking me in the rear end since awakening in the recovery room. My fatigue was so profound that I wasn’t sure whether I was even going to be able to drag myself to my bed.
“One cellphone.”
“Thanks.” I took the phone from Elle, watching as she put on her coat. Being a typical day in late January, snow had begun to fall; fluffy, light flakes that probably wouldn’t accumulate much.
Elle grabbed her purse, taking one last look around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “And I guess that’s that,” she said, satisfied that she hadn’t. “Luke and I will be by tomorrow morning to check on you before our flight leaves in the afternoon.”
“I’ll be here.”
She nodded. “That you will. Try to get some rest and take your pain medication. Don’t be a hero and tough it out.”
“You’re sounding more and more like Luke every day.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Elle,” I called out to her right as she reached the door. “Thank you for everything, and Luke, too, I suppose. I honestly don’t know how I would have been able to get through this without you.”
“Wow, that anesthesia is really doing a number on you.” She chuckled, opening the door to leave. “You’re welcome, and you know I’ll always be there. No matter what.”
An uncomfortable quiet filled the room after she left. Normally, the sound of silence was a welcoming one for me, but now it just felt lonely. Jo would be home soon, though with the state of our relationship as of late, I wasn’t convinced whether that would cure the loneliness I felt or deepen it. My phone vibrated next to me. I’d forgotten that I’d turned it to vibrate before my surgery. I picked it up, noticing that I had a missed call from earlier in the day … from Peter.
He’d left a voicemail a minute in length. His out-of-the-blue call could only mean one thing. He knew about my surgery. I hadn’t wanted him to know. Since our breakup, he’d been living his life with no interest in ever crossing paths with me again, a notion that caused me just as much pain now as it had for me then. He wasn’t privy to my pain anymore. My diagnosis was a part of me I wanted to remain private; information only a privileged few could know.
Every ounce of me wanted to hit the delete button, ignoring his call like it never happened. What could he possibly have to say to me now? ‘Gee, I’m sorry to hear about your cancer. That really sucks.’ You know what, Peter? You’re right, it really does suck. It’s nice to know we’re on the same page about something. Still, there was a tiny sliver of me that yearned to hit the play button. A sliver of me that knew this may be the last opportunity I would have to hear his voice in an intimate, one-on-one conversation. That sliver just so happened to have the loudest voice, completely drowning out my better judgment.
“Ugh. Damn it,” I moaned, hitting play.
“Mena, it’s me. Peter.” He paused, and I could picture him smacking himself over the head. “I’m sure you already figured that out, so I don’t know why I just said that. Uh … I know I’m not the first person you wanted to hear from today, but I couldn’t not call you after I heard everything from Luke. Incidentally, it was completely by accident that I heard it. Luke didn’t volunteer the information to me because he knew you wanted to keep it quiet. But let’s face it, we both know Luke and Elle suck at keeping secrets. Oh geez, I’m rambling. Look, I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay and to let you know that if you need to talk to someone, you can always call me. I’d really … really like to hear from you. I understand if you don’t want to speak to me, but I just wanted you to know that it’s always an option. You’re strong, Mena. Probably the strongest woman I’ve ever known. And I know you’ll get through this and come out even stronger at the other end. I guess that’s all I have to say. I hope I hear from you. Good-bye, Mena.”
If my brain hadn’t already been a jumbled mess before listening to that message, it certainly was afterwards. Hearing his voice again tugged at my heartstrings, yet it also angered me. He had been the one to close the door on our relationship over two months ago, and now he was opening that door a crack. There was no cracking the door open. You either opened it all the way or you kept it closed. I wasn�
�t going to call him back, though I felt compelled to at least acknowledge him.
Me: Peter—Received your message. I’m fine. Thanks for checking. Please give Jackson a high-five for me.
There. The door was shut.
I set my phone aside. I’d been nauseous since shortly after arriving home, an after effect of the anesthesia. Except, until this point, it had been manageable. Nothing more than an annoyance. Now it meant business. Sore, I pushed myself up from the couch, slowly making my way to the bathroom. My leg was stiff, its mobility limited from the procedure to remove the lymph nodes from my body. I was happy I was alone, as I’m sure me hurriedly hobbling to the bathroom, still partially stoned and dragging my leg behind me would have made for an entertaining night to anyone observing the spectacle.
After what felt like a solid thirty minutes of travel, I reached the bathroom, all but falling to the floor and banging my head on the toilet. Of all the ways to go, that would be what would take me out. I erupted into a coughing fit as I willed my stomach to empty its contents so that I could feel somewhat normal again.
“Oh my God, Mena.” Jo’s voice appeared from the doorway. “Here, let me help you.” She knelt beside me, brushing back my hair and holding it in place right at the moment my wish came true. “I wish I could say this was the first time this week I had to hold back the hair of a woman with her head in a toilet, but alas, it is not.”
“Christ, Jo, it’s only Thursday,” I uttered between coughs.
“Mm-hmm. When you have as an exciting of a life as I do, anything is possible.” She fell silent, waiting for me to finish another round of bile eviction. “Actually, one of my co-workers is pregnant. I held her hair yesterday morning after I saw her make a mad dash to the restroom.”
“I guess they’re right. Not all heroes wear capes.”
“It’s a service I provide to all my friends.”
“Friend?” I asked, sitting up and leaning my body against the bathroom wall. “I thought we were just roommates.”
“For maybe the first two months we were—only roommates. But then I got to know you, and a funny thing happened.”
“You regretted answering my ad?”
Jo laughed, taking a seat on the floor across from me, with her back propped against the opposite wall. “No, I’ve never once regretted answering that ad. What I was going to say was that I began to think of you as a friend—one of my closest ones, actually.”
“That is truly high praise coming from you.”
“I know. I don’t just dole it out to just anyone, you know. You should feel honored.”
“I do.”
“I’m sorry for getting angry with you. You were only trying to look out for me. I realize that now. I’ve never had that before—never had anyone really give a damn. I guess I just didn’t know how to react, and I chose poorly.”
“You’re not going to hug me now, are you?”
“God no.”
“And that’s why I’m proud to call you my friend.”
“Okay, that’s enough of this heartfelt garbage.” Jo stood up, offering me her hand. “If you’re going to be all right, I’m going to turn in for the night.”
“I’m fine, but I’m just going to sit here for a bit. It’s been a long day, and I really don’t want to get back on my feet right now.”
Jo nodded. “Okay, but if you fall asleep in here and I have to pee in the middle of the night, I’m going to step over you and pee next to your head.”
“I wouldn’t expect any differently.”
“Goodnight.” Jo turned to walk out of the room, and that’s when I noticed something I hadn’t noticed until then.
“Hey, Jo?”
“Are you going to ralph again?” She turned back around, confirming my suspicions.
I smiled. “I see you got your hoodie back.”
CHAPTER TEN
I’ve never been one to embrace idle time, preferring instead to stay busy. It felt like I was accomplishing something that way. In keeping with that tradition, so as not to be idle, I kept myself busy beginning the day after my surgery, putting pencil to paper and never looking back. I had months of emotional turmoil to release, and more time than I was accustomed in which to release it. Thankfully, Elle’s material was just as raw and as emotional as I felt, making us a great team.
Her material provided me with so much fuel, in fact, that I was able to finish my illustrations within a week, scanning them in and emailing them to her for her approval after I’d finished. Not one for idle time herself, Elle responded, giving me her consent to submit our work to Phineas under the pen name L.N. Rae—a play on her actual name, Ellen, and her middle name, Rae. After inserting my illustrations seamlessly into Elle’s work, I read through the manuscript, pleased with what we’d accomplished together. If this were to hit my desk, I would be impressed, but in the back of my mind, I knew it would be difficult, if not impossible, to garner Phineas’s approval.
I had one week left before I was expected to return to work. One week and zero patience. I peered up at the clock. It was almost five. By the time I got to the office, everyone would be gone. Except Phineas. Phineas would still be there. I drummed my fingers against the upholstery of the couch, trying to decide what I was going to do.
“Oh, hell.”
Just as expected, the office was completely empty when I arrived. Unexpected, however, was Phineas’s empty office.
The one day he goes home at a decent time.
I didn’t want to return home or wait another week to get the book into his hands. I also didn’t want to make another trip back to the office tomorrow. The only alternative was to leave it here. My eyes wandered over Phineas’s desk, spotting a set of post-it notes in the corner. I peeled off the top note, stuck it to the manuscript, and began to scribble a message.
“Mena?”
I jumped, my pen careening off the post-it note, leaving a mark on the top page of the manuscript. “Shit, Phineas. What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing in my own office?”
“Right … sorry. It was dark and I thought you’d left.”
“I was back in the break room, putting my coffee cup in the dishwasher. What are you doing here? You should be resting, not sneaking into the office at random hours, leaving mysterious notes on my desk.”
“In my defense, I thought you’d still be at your desk and I could just speak to you in person.”
“Well, here I am … in person. What do you need to talk to me about?”
I held up a manuscript. “I know we don’t work with poetry.”
“You’re right, we don’t.”
“I know you trust my instincts, and I wouldn’t be bothering you with this if I didn’t think you should make an exception. The author’s overall message is quite powerful and really resonates with the state of the world today. Female empowerment in the face of abuse. I was hoping you would take a look at it, which is why I’m here right now in your darkened office, stealing your post-it notes.”
“Always working.” Phineas flipped on his light. “Isn’t that what you enjoy riding me about?”
“You’re passionate about your work. Maybe it’s beginning to rub off on me a little.”
He shook his head. “No, you’ve always had it. You’re a passionate person, Mena. I knew that the moment I met you. It’s undeniable.”
Our eyes met, locking with each other as my cheeks began to burn. “Phineas, I …” My phone rang from inside of my purse. Still flushed, I reached in and pulled it out, my heart dropping down into my stomach when I saw who was calling me.
“It’s from the hospital. I have to take this,” I said, rushing past Phineas into the atrium.
“Hello,” I answered, my voice more unsteady than I would have wanted.
“Is this Mena Straszewski?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Ms. Straszewski, this is Sharon from Dr. Banta’s office. He asked me to call you to go over the results of your pathology report.”
I leaned against the wall next to my office to support my failing legs, closing my eyes. “Okay.”
“There was no residual malignancy found in the tissue taken from your wide excision, and the lymph nodes removed were all benign.”
“So, that means I’m cancer free?”
“It would appear so, but we do need to stress to you that melanoma is highly unpredictable and very aggressive. You may be out of the woods right now, but you still need to remain diligent with biannual follow-up appointments with Dr. Lee. You also need to perform monthly skin checks on yourself. It’s also further recommended that you not become pregnant in the next two years, as pregnancy can cause a recurrence and melanoma can be passed from mother to child.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. It’s not like I’m getting laid anytime soon.”
“Be that as it may, you should still be careful for the next two years. Oh, and avoid tanning beds and prolonged exposure to UV rays. From this point forward, when you’re going to be outside, you need to make sure you’re wearing sunscreen and your skin is protected. Your next appointment is in ten days for the removal of your staples. Do you have any questions for me?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, that’s all I have, then. Have a good evening, Ms. Straszewski. We’ll see you in ten days.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I turned around, facing Phineas who was still standing by the doorway of his office. He looked concerned, hopeful, even anxious.
“Everything came back clear,” I announced, still in disbelief.
A broad smile stretched across his face, revealing teeth too white and too perfectly straight to be real. “That’s such a relief. Now you can take the rest of the week you have off and rest without all this hanging over your head.”
When Stars Collide Page 20
