Waiting to hear back had been like being locked in a room and forced to listen to fingernails running down an endless chalkboard. Dr. Galloway had wanted her to come to see him, today, so they could review the results.
She had breast cancer.
Even though she knew cancer was common, she’d never actually known anyone who’d had it. Up until today, it had never touched her personally. No one in her family had ever had cancer. Both sets of grandparents had died of old age. Aunts and uncles, too, as far as she knew. Her parents, even though her dad had aged over the last few months and had done things that were uncharacteristic, seemed healthy for their age. So how could she have cancer? She was young. She felt young. She was too young to get cancer.
This was happening too fast. She needed time to get used to the idea. No! She didn’t. She didn’t want this to be happening at all.
T1, N0, M0.
Dr. Galloway might as well have been speaking a foreign language. And then he explained how the TNM staging system was used to classify the severity of the cancer. Basically, her cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes or other organs. She was a stage one. The tumor was less than two centimetres in diameter, which wasn’t considered very big.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“We caught it early,” Dr. Galloway said. “We have options. We can perform breast-conserving surgery or a mastectomy, followed by twelve weeks of chemo and five weeks of radiation.”
Lori-Anne looked at Dr. Galloway, a brave smile on her face, her hands clutching her purse. She’d come alone, hopeful, not expecting the lump to be cancerous, but now she really wanted someone to hold her hand. Not just anyone. She wanted Mathieu. She really needed him right now.
But he wasn’t here.
Maybe she would need to get used to facing this ordeal by herself. Maybe this was her life now, a soon-to-be divorced forty-something woman with breast cancer. Maybe this was her punishment for letting her daughter die.
Mastectomy. Chemo. Radiation.
If those three words in the same sentence didn’t weigh in the pit of your stomach like a hundred slimy eels, you were definitely in denial. Lori-Anne did her best to keep her breakfast down.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Dr. Galloway said. “We’ll go over the options and see what works best.”
“Sure, okay,” she said. But nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. Nothing remotely resembled okay.
How she wished Mathieu was here with her. Not her mom, not Nancy. She wanted her husband. He should be here. He had vowed to be by her side until death do us part. She had never imagined that the death of their daughter would drive them apart. Maybe those vows should be clearer, spelled out, say exactly whose death would do us part.
Dr. Galloway spent the next thirty minutes explaining the different procedures, the benefits and drawbacks of each, and then gave her some pamphlets and websites to look at. It was simply too much information. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
“We’ll schedule a surgery date as soon as we can,” he said. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we caught it early and your chances are very good. Talk it over with your family, decide what you want to do. If you have any questions, we’ll discuss them once we have our date.”
Lori-Anne nodded. “Thank you.”
Had that conversation actually happened? Had she really been told she had cancer? Had she actually thanked Dr. Galloway? All these questions muddled her mind as she sat in her car and watched people going in and out of the medical building. She tried to guess who else had gotten horrible news, who else had cancer, who else was going through hell like she was.
But she couldn’t tell. She’d expected them to look different somehow, but no one did. They were just people going in and out, some hurried, others strolled as if they had all day. No one came out looking stunned, or crying, or angry.
“I’m too young,” she whispered. “How can I have breast cancer? Why do I have cancer? It’s not fair.”
But she knew cancer didn’t play favourites, it didn’t care how old or young you were. Kids got cancer, so why couldn’t she get it too? Cancer was an equal opportunity bastard.
Lori-Anne ran a shaking hand across her forehead. Hadn’t she been through enough over the last six months? She’d done her best to be strong, at times burying her pain or pretending it didn’t hurt while she tried to help Mathieu, but none of it had worked.
CANCER.
She hated the fucking word. It sounded vile and left her feeling cold and small and not in control. How could she defeat something she knew nothing about?
God! How she didn’t want to face this alone.
* * *
After composing herself, Lori-Anne drove back to work and locked herself in her office. She spent the afternoon researching breast cancer on the websites Dr. Galloway had given her, getting familiar with the possible treatments, and finding forums where cancer survivors talked about their ordeal. The survival rate was very good when the cancer was caught early, as she’d been told. The odds were in her favour.
She would have to tell her boss and take an extended leave of absence. Soon everyone at the office would know. Would they treat her differently? Feel sorry for her? Have pity in their eyes? She didn’t want that.
“How am I going to tell Mom?” she said to no one. It was after five and the office was deserted. She should be heading to Nancy’s, which was home these days.
How am I going to tell everyone?
Lori-Anne stood in front of her office window and looked down. People were bundled up and walking at a good pace. November in Ottawa could be unpredictable. Yesterday had been warm for this time of year and today was colder than normal. Winter was coming, cold and uncompromising, the season of isolation.
She turned and stared at the top drawer of her desk. It had been months since she’d put it away, tried to forget. Lori-Anne pulled out the picture of her daughter and let her eyes soak up every line, every nuance, every colour that made up the image of the young and beautiful woman Nadia had been becoming. She missed her, their last conversation a moment that continued to haunt her. Maybe if she’d shared this with Mathieu, told him what Nadia had said just before she died, how it gnawed her raw day after day, maybe then he would have understood her reluctance to enter their daughter’s room. And maybe then he would have understood why she had to get rid of Nadia’s things once she did go into her bedroom.
Lori-Anne put the picture on her desk, grabbed her overcoat, turned off the lights and left. She had to get ready for the fight of her life.
On the way to the elevator, her phone beeped three short times in a row. She froze. That buzzing meant only one person. She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket and read the text.
I know it’s been a while. I’d really like to talk. Maybe over coffee? Matt.
Lori-Anne looked around as if she were doing something wrong and hoped no one would catch her doing it. But everyone had gone home a while ago.
She read the text again. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to see him, but why did he want to see her?
He probably had the divorce papers for her to sign. Of course.
Not a good day, she texted back. Can you just mail me the papers?
What papers?
I thought you had divorce papers for me to sign.
I guess after four months and what happened last time we spoke to each other, you’d expect that. But no, no papers. I never even met with a lawyer. I’ve been seeing a counsellor. And going to church.
She put a hand to her mouth.
OMG!
She pressed send before realizing that was such a teenage-girl thing to say.
Yeah, I know, he texted back.
That’s great. I’m happy for you.
It’s been good. Helping me put things into perspective. Any chance we can meet? I have a lot to tell you. I have so much to apologize for. Ple
ase let me at least do that.
Lori-Anne took a few steps toward the elevator and then tracked back. She didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to see him. No matter how badly he’d hurt her, she wanted to see him. You didn’t stop loving someone just because things got bad. But the other part of her, the hurt part, had started to move on without him. Then she remembered how she wished he’d been with her this morning.
Okay. Where? When?
Starbucks at the Rideau. Fifteen minutes?
I’ll be there.
Thanks.
Lori-Anne took the elevator to the parking garage and got in her car. She could just as easily walk across the bridge to the Rideau Centre, but it was cold and she wasn’t dressed for it.
She stopped at the traffic light. Doubts began to creep in. Maybe she should just drive home to Nancy’s and text him from there. I’m not coming. But the light turned green and before she could change her mind, she headed toward the Rideau Centre.
* * *
The Starbucks was on the second level, which was actually street level with Rideau Street to the north, beside Joseph’s Esthetics & Beauty shop. Mathieu stood just off to the side, watching the escalator in case Lori-Anne came up that way but also kept an eye down the concourse in case she came from the far end of the mall. There was a stream of people rushing by and he did his best not to get in the way.
He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes already. His shoulders sagged a bit. Maybe she’d changed her mind.
He noticed a young couple, maybe twenty, embracing just in front of the American Eagle Outfitters shop, the boy’s hands cupping her bottom. The boy whispered something in the girl’s ear, she laughed, and they walked away hand in hand.
Mathieu straightened his shoulders.
He scanned the sea of people, this time noticing a business couple, both dressed in impeccable power suits. The woman was staring away and had her arms crossed in front of her while the man was trying to make a point, his index and thumb together emphasizing whatever it was he was telling her. When she’d had enough, she stormed off and didn’t look back.
His shoulders sagged down again. Twenty-three minutes had gone by. She wasn’t coming. He’d really hoped that she’d come, but he understood if she’d changed her mind. If he were in her place, he might not have come either.
But then he saw someone about her height and with the same hair colour, her face blocked by a man walking in front of her. Mathieu headed that way, the crowd disappearing, the white noise of hundreds of people talking muffled to a whisper, the smell of Lori-Anne’s perfume gently tickling his nostrils.
The glow on his face vanished once he saw that the woman wasn’t Lori-Anne.
Mathieu hurried back toward Starbucks, his gaze bouncing off faces, hoping he hadn’t missed her coming the other way. He’d spent all day yesterday after leaving Dr. Gilmour’s office planning how he would do this, never realizing how difficult it would be to contact his wife—his wife—after all this time. This woman had given him a wonderful child, he knew her intimately, but the separation had made strangers of them and now he wondered if it was too late to start over.
* * *
Lori-Anne parked her car three levels down and took the elevator up to the main floor. She stepped out with six other people and moved aside, second-guessing her decision to come. Mathieu had surprised her and at that moment, she’d been feeling alone and scared. But now, well, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
She glanced at the elevator. It would be easy to just get back in. Pretend he hadn’t texted and she hadn’t come. Just like that. Wasn’t it safer that way? Is that what she really wanted?
She wasn’t sure. Too much had happened today already, there were too many threads being pulled, slowly unravelling her life. What if Mathieu was the one thread she should follow?
What if he wasn’t?
Lori-Anne pushed aside her doubts and headed toward Starbucks, coming from the far side. She kept her pace slow but steady, mostly because it was crowded for a Tuesday night. In a month’s time it would be so crazy in here, overcrowded with Christmas shoppers stressed out to buy, buy, buy.
She stopped and let people go around her. Her lips moved as she silently debated with herself, wondering what she’d say to him. Would it feel normal or strained, like two people seeing one another after years and not knowing what to say? It had only been four months, but ugly hurts marred their separation. Could she forgive and forget? Had counselling really helped? Had he finally accepted Nadia’s accident? And what’s this about going to church?
What did any of it mean? To be honest, she’d given up. The last sixteen weeks, her mindset had shifted toward starting over. Being with Nancy, who was currently back at university and loving it, had really helped. The two women supported one another, encouraged one another, drew strength from one another.
Sort of silly, but Lori-Anne almost wished Nancy was with her right now. For moral support, and to tell her that she was doing the right thing.
Lori-Anne saw Mathieu. He was walking away, like he was chasing someone. Her stomach tightened, an oily slimy feeling churning and burning, pushing against her bladder. She suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom. She turned one way, then another, bumping into a teenager whose boxers showed above the waistband of his skinny jeans. He muttered something that sounded like watchitlady and followed it with a strange look, like eeew what a freak.
She pulled away from the teenage boy and saw Mathieu standing in front of Starbucks, about forty paces from her. He looked the way she remembered him twenty years ago, handsome and vulnerable, strong and fragile, intense and caring. Could the man she fell in love with really be standing less than fifty feet away, waiting for her, wanting her, needing her?
Lori-Anne straightened, took a deep breath, and walked toward her husband. “Hello, Mathieu.”
* * *
Mathieu turned and forgot to breathe for a moment. He felt himself being pulled into Lori-Anne’s light-green eyes and reliving better times, when they were both young and full of passion. When was the last time he’d truly looked into those eyes and felt intense desire rush through him? He’d let familiarity dull that light inside of him, not purposely, just caught in the flow of life, busy with work, busy with Nadia, busy just trying to keep up, every day stealing those moments that they’d once shared and cherished. God! She looked beautiful.
“I didn’t think . . . this is so . . . I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” he said, his voice thick and uncertain. “I really appreciate you coming.”
“I was a bit surprised,” she said. “But your text seemed upbeat.”
He wanted to hold her. But couldn’t. He’d lost that privilege months ago. So they stood there, staring at each other while people went around them.
“Let’s get a coffee,” he finally said. “Iced Hazelnut Macchiato?”
“That would be great,” she said. “And a plain bagel. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“We could go somewhere else if you want.”
She shook her head. “That coffee smells too good.”
Mathieu ordered and they found an empty table. Lori-Anne draped her coat on the back of a chair. They sat, saying nothing, staring at one another. Mathieu took a sip of coffee. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. If he could have seen her over the last six months like he was seeing her now, none of this would have happened. They would have faced Nadia’s death together instead of fighting and growing apart.
“I . . . I don’t know where to start . . . what to say.”
“It’s okay.”
“I know this is probably hard for you,” he said.
She tore a piece of bagel and put it in her mouth and chased it with a sip of coffee. “I almost changed my mind a couple of times.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Things were pretty bad last time we spoke.” He saw her nod. “You have no idea how sorry I am. The way I reacted when you cleaned out some of Nadi
a’s things, the way I accused you of not caring, they way I shut you out. It was all bad. I shouldn’t have said nor done those things.”
Lori-Anne wrapped her hands around her cup but didn’t drink.
“You knew I needed help but I was too stubborn. I should have listened to you.”
“You couldn’t,” she said. “I hoped things would get better, that somehow you’d come to realize what was going on, but I was really just fooling myself. It tore me apart to watch you. I felt so helpless. The more I tried, the more you pushed me away.”
“If I could take it all back, make it better, I would.”
“It’s done,” she said. “We can’t change it. None of it. All we can do is move forward.”
Mathieu glanced at strangers walking by in the concourse. Would that be them soon, strangers to one another? “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” she said, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip. “For months I prayed for our marriage to get better, but it didn’t. I know we have to move forward, but I don’t know how to do that or if we can do that.”
“You once said that love would help us through it.”
“And you said love isn’t always enough.”
“I said a lot of stupid things.”
Lori-Anne looked away. “You really hurt me.”
“I know I did. I’ve replayed those low moments so many times over the last few weeks, trying to understand why. But there is no why. I was sick, and I hate to use it as an excuse, but I couldn’t help it. I don’t see any reasons why you’d believe me, or why you’d trust me, but I’m asking you anyway.”
“I don’t know if—”
It Happened to Us Page 16
