The Letter

by Mary Crawford

  A family with a bunch of noisy, active kids sits down at the two tables next to us. With a concerned expression, Rocco looks around. “Do you have to go back to work?”

  “Technically? No, I don’t. I’m on indefinite medical leave until I feel well enough to come back. Andre’s exact instructions were to ‘Take a couple days to get your life together before it gets crazy. Don’t worry about your stupid job.’ I only came to work because I can’t stand the quiet of my own thoughts. I’m driving myself crazy.”

  Rocco stands up and walks behind me as he massages my neck. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there with you. Let’s take all this back to your place where we can tackle it together, okay?”

  “You’re like magic. How do you always make things better?” I ask as I lean my head against his forearm.

  “I guess I was just born to be a Mallory soother,” he quips.

  “That’s a very good thing. I have the feeling that skill will be in great demand soon.”

  Rocco leans back in the kitchen chair. “This sandwich is the best thing I’ve eaten in a while.”

  “Don’t thank me. The tomatoes are from Edna’s garden. I wouldn't eat half as well as I do without her help.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank her,” Rocco says as he wipes his face with a paper towel.

  “Edna loves you, you know? You made her feel so much better about what lies ahead for me. She was beginning to think my funeral might be tomorrow — but she’s better now. She doesn’t talk like it’s her fault anymore — although, now she is in the middle of knitting me a blanket for chemotherapy.”

  “Edna is a good lady. She reminds me of my own grandma.” After Rocco takes his dishes over to the sink and washes his hands, he returns to the table where we have all the paperwork arranged in several stacks. He points to one stack. “Okay, I’ve got all the release forms filled out so I can talk to the doctors about your case even if they figure out I’m not really your husband. I found your living will in your paperwork, so all of that is together.”

  “How did you do it so quickly? Those forms were making me dizzy.”

  “I think my job gives me an advantage. I push paperwork around all day. I’m used to what it looks like.”

  I walk over to the table and pick up a folder. “What am I going to do about this one? They’re asking a bunch of questions about my family. First, it’s all about family history. I know nothing, really.”

  “I’m sure it’s not the end of the world. Tons of people are adopted.”

  “Even if I figure that part out, they want to know about emergency contacts. Should I use my adoptive family? They haven’t spoken to me in a few years. I suppose I could use Edna, but I hate to because I don’t want to put any more stress on her. I could involve Andre but that’s not exactly appropriate since he’s my employee. I don’t have a lot of friends in Oregon —” I confess as my voice breaks. I haven’t even gotten to the hard stuff yet, and this is already starting to take an emotional toll on me.

  “I understand this is tough to hear because of all the stuff you’ve gone through with your parents. It might be time for you to reach out to them. If I were a parent, I would be devastated if my child was sick and I didn’t know.”

  “I know. I’ve turned that thought over and over in my head since you first came to me with my medical records. But I keep getting hung up on the same problem. How do you restart a conversation after more than half a decade? I don’t know what to say.”

  “I guess if it were me I’d start with the basics. ‘I love you’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m scared’, or ‘I need you’. Honesty generally works the best.”

  “You make it sound so easy. What if they hate me? What if they never want to talk to me again? What if they don’t care if I have cancer?”

  Rocco wraps his arms around me from behind and whispers in my ear. “What if they do? What if the only thing keeping them from picking up the phone are the very same fears you’re having? What if they can’t find the words either? You need to make the call. It’s important.”

  I turn and bury my face in his chest. “I’m scared,” I mumble.

  “I know, Mal. That’s why we’re going to do this together. Grab your phone.”

  I reach behind me and pick my phone up off the table. Before I can blink, Rocco scoops me off my feet and carries me over to the couch. He puts his feet up on the coffee table and cuddles me on his lap. “Comfy?” he asks.

  I nod as I pull up my dad’s number in my phone. My hands are trembling so much I can barely hold my phone. Rocco strokes my back. “You can do this.”

  When a familiar voice answers the phone, I have to clear my throat a couple of times before I can form words. “Hi Mom, is Dad in the office today?”

  I place the phone on speaker phone so Rocco can hear my mom say, “Oh heavens! Mallory is that really you?”

  “Yes, Mom it’s me. Do you think Dad would be willing to talk to me? Or is he still angry?”

  “Why would you have such a crazy notion? Of course your dad wants to talk to you. He waits every year on his birthday, Christmas and on Father’s Day for you to call, but you never do. You never call on Mother’s Day either.”

  “Mom, Dad said if I came to Portland to go to school, I might as well be dead to him because I didn’t want to be a dentist.”

  “That’s why you moved all the way across the United States and changed your name? For something your father said after the Celtics lost in the playoffs and he lost a bundle. Honey, your father was three sheets to the wind and not responsible for anything he said for several days. I finally kicked his butt out of the house and made him stay at a hotel because he was driving me crazy.”

  “I tried to talk to him for months after the big argument. Dad wouldn’t talk to me or apologize. He just insisted he was right, and I was making all the wrong moves. I figured you both hated me and were sorry you adopted me in the first place.”

  “Oh honey, nothing could be further from the truth. Your father was devastated when he drove you away. You know how he is. I couldn’t really pick sides. Anyway, he’s just finishing up with the patient. Oh, just a second, I see the door opening right now. I’ll try to catch him.”

  “Mom, when you put him on the phone, please stay on the line. I need to speak to you both.”

  “Sounds serious. You’re not dying or anything are you?”

  “It’s complicated. I’d rather explain it just once. Can you get Dad on the line?” I plead as I lose my nerve. The phone clicks and music starts to play. I grimace as I recognize the same hold music my parents used to loop when I worked in the office as a teenager. I wonder if they’re using the same outdated computer systems and filing systems too.

  “Doesn’t sound like they hate you,” Rocco murmurs against my temple.

  I shake my head as I whisper, “It doesn’t.”

  Abruptly, my phone clicks and I hear my dad’s upper-crust accent as he asks, “I trust you haven’t waited this long to go to the dentist.”

  “Edward! Knock it off. Mallory is finally calling home and it’s your fault she hasn’t called. Show some grace and manners, please.”

  “It’s all right, Mom. As a matter of fact, I have been exercising excellent oral hygiene. At my last dental checkup, I had no cavities. My new dentist is very impressed with my protocol.”

  “What should I even call you? Is it Mallory or Nariko — or do you go by something else completely different by now?”

  “Edward Edmonds, behave yourself! You know very well what your daughter calls herself; you follow her blog every single day. Stop being an obnoxious pill! If you don’t, I’ll kick you off this phone call and talk to our daughter myself.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. Maybe I’m to blame too. Perhaps I should have asked more questions and not jumped to so many conclusions. But, I have a bigger fight on my hands now.”

  “Oh my gosh, I knew it. You are dying,” my mom gasps.

  “I don’t think it’s quite that dire yet. But all i
ndications are I have breast cancer. I have to go in for a biopsy on Tuesday. I’ve already had an ultrasound and a second mammogram. It looks pretty conclusive. I am petrified because I don’t even have health insurance. The company I work for is just a small startup and can’t afford to offer it. I make too much money to qualify for help from the government. So, I’m on my own.”

  My dad sighs heavily. “You were always the most confoundingly stubborn child. Why didn’t you call us earlier? Did it ever occur to you that I am a doctor and before your mother gave up her career to help me run my practice, she was a nurse at a hospital? You have had health insurance — the most Cadillac of policies — on you since the day you came into our lives. We continue to pay premiums every month. Because we never believed you would stay gone. I’m sorry that whatever I said to you upset you. Your mother tried to tell me years ago I should apologize. I simply never believed you would leave over a few poorly chosen words. I figured maybe you no longer wanted to be an Edmondson. After all, you changed your name. Maybe you didn’t want anything to do with us at all. Obviously, you know how to work a telephone because you called today. You could’ve done it much sooner.”

  “Edward, you are being totally unfair, telephones work both directions, you know. We could have just as easily called Mallory. She has birthdays and celebrates Christmas and Thanksgiving too.”

  “I wasn’t the one who left. Mallory did,” my dad argues stubbornly.

  Rocco leans forward and talks into the phone, “With all due respect sir, your daughter is due to go under the knife and find out life altering news in about thirty-six hours. Is this really what you want your last conversation to be about?”

  “Who are you?” my dad snaps at Rocco.

  “I am Rocco Pierce. I am a friend of Mallory's. I care for her very much and I want to make sure this process goes as smoothly for her as possible. As a paramedic, I know that patients do well when they have positive family interactions. Would it be possible for one or both of you to be around for Mallory after surgery?”

  I look at Rocco as if he’s grown another head. At the moment, it’s not even clear my parents and I can have a civil conversation from more than three thousand miles apart. I don’t know what would happen if you put us in the same room together.

  “Edward, I don’t know who this gentleman is. But he’s right. Are you going to let your pride get in the way again? It’s been years since we’ve seen Mallory and now she’s gravely ill. She needs us. What good does it do for us to hire partners in this practice if we never go on vacation? Let’s go before it’s too late.”

  “Where would we stay, Rosalind? You know I don’t do well with spur-of-the-moment plans.”

  “You can stay at my house. I have a lovely guest room.”

  “How can you afford a house with a guest room if you can’t afford health insurance benefits?” My dad presses.

  “Look, it’s a really long story and when you get here, I may feel up to telling you. I’ll send Mom an email with all the information about how to get to my house. I’ll figure out a way to get you picked up at the Portland airport so you don’t have to get a taxi. It might be my friend Rocco or my assistant Andre from the newspaper.”

  I hear my mom take a shuddering breath. “Mallory, I’m very sad for the circumstances, but I’m so happy you called me. I’ve missed you so much over the past few years. I can’t even put it into words. I’m excited to see you. I’ll work on getting tickets right away. Hopefully we can fly out in the next day or so. I want to have some time to spend with you before your surgery. I love you honey, don’t forget that. I’m sorry you ever thought otherwise.”

  My eyes tear up and I have to swallow hard a few times before I can answer. “I love you guys too. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you. I can’t tell you how glad I am you don’t hate me. I was so scared to call.”

  In the background, I hear the office phones go crazy. My mom groans out loud. “I swear they haven’t been this busy all week.”

  “It’s all right, Mom. Take care of business. I’ll be in touch, I promise. I’ll send you all of my contact information so you can make travel arrangements. I will see you guys in a couple of days.”

  Rocco squeezes my shoulder gently and I take a deep breath before I whisper, “I love you both so much. I’m glad I called.”

  Tears are streaming down my face as I hang up the phone. For several minutes, Rocco simply holds me as I weep. Years of pent-up emotions pour out of me.

  I cry for so long, I start to hiccup. Rocco grabs a throw pillow and pops it behind me as he shimmies out from under me and places me gently on the couch and props me up. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hands me the remote. “Edna tells me you have a weakness for Meg Ryan movies.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to tell you about my addiction to 80s RomComs. I’m supposed to be a hardened, steely crime reporter,” I protest through an awkward combination of hiccups and sniffles.

  “We’ll talk about what I watch in a minute,” Rocco promises as he rushes toward my kitchen.

  I flip through the channels and find a rerun of Hope Floats. Even though I’ve seen the movie dozens of times, I choose it. It’s appropriately mushy for my emotional state. At least if I can’t stop crying, I can blame it on the sad movie.

  When Rocco comes back in the room, he’s got a tray full of junk food. He brought two kinds of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, a bowl of popcorn, a can of pretzels and a bag of potato chips. When I look at him with a confused expression, he answers, “The magic ingredient isn’t quite ready yet. By the way, awesome double boiler. I’ve always wanted a copper one.”

  His phone beeps and he dashes back to the kitchen. When he comes back, he’s carrying my gravy boat. He opens my coat closet and grabs a TV tray we used the other day when Edna came over to play cards. He sets the gravy boat in the middle and runs back to my kitchen. When he returns, he has a stack of paper plates, a handful of plastic bowls, and a roll of paper towels.

  I struggle to sit up. “I’m not even sure I want to know how many Burpees I’ll have to do to cope with whatever you have planned.”

  Rocco hands me a paper towel to wipe my face. “It’s simple. Chocolate sauce is the cure for everything.”

  “Not quite so simple. If it was, I wouldn’t be having holes drilled in me.”

  “Okay, maybe it doesn’t cure everything, but it makes it all a little easier to deal with.”

  “I thought that’s what my friends Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey were for,” I answer with a tearful grin.

  “They are good — but nothing says they can’t be made better with a little warm chocolate sauce. I’m going to get myself a bowl of ice cream with chocolate sauce right now. Would you like some?”

  “Not right now. I want to know what you have planned for the chips, pretzels, and popcorn.”

  Rocco shoots me a shocked expression worthy of a cartoon character. “You mean you haven’t been introduced to the magic of salty and sweet?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Oh gross! Don’t tell me you’re planning to eat them together?”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Rocco digs a potato chip out of the bag and dips it in the chocolate. He holds it out for me to try. I’m hesitant at first. It occurs to me that I’m being ridiculous. Very soon, I’ll have to take much bigger risks with him. I close my eyes and open my mouth like a baby bird.

  I hear him break off a small piece and place it on my tongue. As I process all the tastes and textures, I realize it’s not nearly as terrible as I expected. In fact, I actually like it. Rocco must be able to read the surprise on my face.

  “It’s good, isn’t it? I told you you’d like it.”

  “You were right. You were right about a lot of stuff. I’m glad you convinced me to call my parents. Can you believe the whole fight was because my dad was frustrated because he lost money on a sports bet? All those years I lost with them — it’s crazy. I thought they hated me. I won’t get those ye
ars back. I may not have very many more years to live … and we were fighting over nothing. The whole thing is just stupid! I don’t know if I should be relieved or just totally ticked off. Right now, I’m just sad. We may not get a second shot.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that. I know my relationship with my parents means the world to me. But some good things have happened because of your estrangement. You learned how to stand up for yourself — even when it meant facing dire consequences. You became a homeowner and the world’s most supportive neighbor. You became a reporter with a mission to change the world and make a difference. People respect your reporting. You have fans all over, young and old — including your dad. I don’t know if any of that would’ve happened if you hadn’t been forced to struggle and make it on your own.”

  “Well, that’s one way of looking at all the crap that’s happened. I suppose you’re one of those people who think if I do have cancer, have to chop my breasts off and lose all my hair that there’s some grand meaning in it all.”

  Rocco puts down the ice cream he was dishing up as his expression grows fierce.

  “Mallory, listen to me. I am not happy you’re sick. But I am so grateful for Edna and her crazy plan to introduce you to a rich, successful doctor. I only wish this thing between us was real. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be looking for your perfect guy after you beat cancer because that guy would be me.”

  I scoff. “Like I’ll be in any shape to be looking for anybody. I’m going to look like some weird creature from a science fiction movie with no hair and no breasts who’s about half as tall as a normal human being.”

  “I thought we already established height is no barrier between us. I’m serious when I say although I think your hair is beautiful, if you lost every strand of hair, I would still consider you the most extraordinarily beautiful woman I have ever met. As far as your breasts go, they’re pretty — but they’re not who you are. If you have to get rid of them to save your life, I wouldn’t give them a second thought.”