By the time I’d finished my list, it was four and I still hadn’t heard from the doctor. Mom walked into my bedroom. “Still no call?”
I shook my head. “I’m going to call now. I can’t wait any longer.”
I dialed the doctor’s number while Mom sat on the bed beside me.
“Hello, I’m Scarlett Eyster. I’m calling to find out the results of my breast biopsy.”
“I was just going to call you,” the nurse said. “It’s benign.”
“That’s noncancerous, correct?”
“Yes. You do not have cancer. The doctor recommends having a diagnostic mammogram in a year.”
“Thank you.” I got off the phone and broke down. “I don’t have cancer, Mom.”
Mom hugged me and pulled me in close. “I told you you’d be just fine.”
I can’t explain the relief I felt at that moment. It seemed as if my life had been on hold for weeks, and I hadn’t realized how much worry weight I’d been carrying around until that moment when it dissipated like a balloon being popped with a pin. Poof! It was gone and I suddenly felt lighter, happier and more appreciative of what I had.
That night, Mom and I celebrated my good news with dinner out at Louie’s downtown, around the corner from the building I hoped to buy.
We parked in the parking garage and I showed Mom the property. I didn’t have the key to get in, but we peeked in the windows.
“I know you can’t see much,” I told Mom, “but what do you think?”
“It’s not important what I think, Scarlett. What’s important is what you think. I still don’t understand why you’d want to give up the beautiful house you have for a rundown city property, but if there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that once she decides something, there’s no stopping her.”
“I used to be like that, Mom. What happened to that girl?”
“She’s still there Scarlett. It’s just that it’s been hard to find her. You’ve spent your life so far raising your children and being the kind of mother you felt they deserved. You’ve put off doing things you wanted to do because of them. You’ve put off spending money on yourself, choosing instead to buy things for them. It’s what we mothers do. But now is your time. Now it’s your turn to follow your dream. And if this is your dream, then who am I or anyone else to say you’re crazy? I always told you kids you could be and do anything you put your minds to. I still believe that. It’s never too late!”
“Did you have dreams, Mom?”
Mom sighed. “I did, once. And I didn’t have the courage or determination to follow them.”
We continued walking toward the restaurant. “So what was your dream, Mom?”
“Well, I always wanted to play the piano in the symphony and teach lessons.”
“You taught me how to play,” I said. “Why didn’t you teach others?”
“Just didn’t have the time. I was so busy working and taking care of you kids that I never would’ve had time to give lessons. Most weeks I barely fitted yours in.”
I’d never realized how important playing or teaching the piano was to Mom and suddenly I felt badly about quitting when I was in junior high. I remembered the disappointment on Mom’s face the day I told her I didn’t want her to teach me piano anymore. “It’s stupid,” I said.
Why is it that the people we love the most are the ones we hurt the deepest? I wished so badly at that moment I could take it all back – the pain, the memory that had been burned into my mother’s brain like a cattle being branded. I was such an inconsiderate, bratty teen.
But that’s the thing about life. You can’t erase the past; you can only move forward, applying what you’ve learned, and hope it’s enough. Oh, how I wished I’d had the wisdom at seventeen I do now.
It’d been a long time since Mom and I had dinner out together, which made her last night in town even more special. Dad had been calling every day, anxious for Mom to move down to unpack the boxes and put everything where she wanted it to be. I’d take her to the airport early tomorrow morning and she’d be with Dad by late afternoon. And I’d go back to the gym and tell Ed to list my house and sign the contract he’d prepared for the downtown property. I was ready to start this new chapter. I wasn’t quite sure how the story of my life would end, but at least I knew I was the one writing it, not waiting for someone else to write it for me.
Chapter 15
I stood in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bathroom door one morning and noticed my stomach wasn’t protruding as much as it once did. I knew my clothes fit better but I’d avoided the scale, mostly because I didn’t want to be disappointed, so I wasn’t sure how much weight I’d lost. I dug the scale out of the closet and placed it on the bathroom floor. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled, stepping up onto it. I closed my eyes, afraid to see where the needle stopped. Don’t be silly, Scarlett. You’ve had to lose weight. Your clothes fit better. I opened my eyes. I had lost weight. Nine pounds! I did a fist pump and picked up Muffin, who’d been by my side, and twirled her around in a circle.
I realized I’d made it through the critical period Renee had warned me about and that meant I’d earned – FILLER! I looked in the mirror, imagining myself with full lips, then picked up the phone and called to make an appointment.
When I pulled into the Elite Skin Care Center parking lot a few days later, I was thankful someone had canceled their appointment, otherwise I would’ve had to wait a few weeks for an opening.
Today was the day I’d worked my butt off for – lip filler. I felt a little weird when I walked inside and approached the counter. I wondered if the people who worked there mentally evaluated the customers when they arrived. Hmm, she really needs Botox. Her lips are big enough. She’s here for lip filler but she really ought to do something about those marionette lines.
I couldn’t help but notice that everyone who worked there looked great. I wondered if that was a prerequisite for the job. Clear skin. No wrinkles or pockmarked faces.
I checked in with the receptionist and we went over some paperwork. “Have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly,” she said.
I sat in the corner and waited to be called back. I watched the door, nervous that someone I knew would walk through it. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed by having the procedure. I should care less about what people think and do what makes me happy. Besides, they were obviously going to have work done themselves if they were here, too. Still, I hadn’t planned on shouting to the world, Look at my new lips! In fact, I didn’t plan on saying anything. If they noticed and asked, I wouldn’t lie, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to tell everyone what I’d done.
The nurse opened the door. “Scarlett Eyster?”
I stood and followed her back along a creme hallway filled with bright, bold contemporary artwork that was interesting but definitely not my style. I preferred paintings where I could actually tell what they were supposed to be. Not swirls of color and different shapes that looked like they’d been done by Tory when she was five.
“Have a seat and the doctor will be in shortly. She’s finishing up with a patient now. My name’s Debbie, and I’ll be assisting the doctor today.”
I hadn’t been sitting long when the door opened and the doctor walked in. “Hi! I’m Dr. Zambito. So, why are we seeing you today?”
Dr. Zambito, who I was sure was in her late fifties, looked like she was in her early forties.
“I’d like to have some lips,” I told her. “Mine disappear when I smile.”
She chuckled. “A common problem.” She examined my lips. “We can do that. Your bottom lip should be larger than your top lip. We’ll give you a little more fullness and we’ll also add some filler to the sides of your mouth. You smile droops a bit and we’ll take care of that.” She touched the sides of my mouth. “Anything else?”
“Well, I’d like to get rid of these frown lines.” I rubbed the area between my two eyebrows
. “But I’m not sure that’s in my budget.”
She looked at my frown lines. “I could inject a neurotoxin there. Since you’re a first-time patient, I’ll give you a twenty-percent discount. I’ll inject the neurotoxin to smooth out your frown lines and apply dermal filler to plump your lips for a thousand dollars.”
My eyes widened and I grimaced. “That’s a little more than I wanted to spend.”
She nodded. “I understand. We could do the lip filler first and see how that goes. You can always come back if you decide to soften the frown lines later.”
“Sounds good.”
By this time Debbie had returned, so Dr. Zambito briefed her on the procedure and she opened the cabinet above the counter and pulled out a camera. “We’re going to take before and after pictures,” she said. “Don’t worry. This is for your eyes only. We won’t share these with anyone. But it’s good to be able to see the difference.”
I smiled, thinking about the photos Renee had taken when I first started working out. I looked at them from time to time and they motivated me to keep going when I felt like hitting the sofa instead of the gym.
“Don’t smile. Just rest your lips,” Debbie said.
While Debbie was taking the photos, Dr. Zambito prepared the syringe. “This filler has an anesthetic agent in it, but the icing will help, too.”
Dr. Zambito pointed to my upper lip on the right and Debbie held an ice cube tightly against that spot.
“Okay,” Dr. Zambito said, injecting the filler into my lip then applying pressure to the area.
This continued on my upper and lower lips and the subsequent injections didn’t sting as much as the first one. The things we go through to look great.
When Dr. Zambito was finished, she held up the mirror. “Wow, I have lips!”
“Are you happy with them?” she asked.I nodded. “Can I change my mind and have you fix my frown lines?”
Dr. Zambito laughed. “Are you sure?”
“I was just thinking how quickly your schedule fills upso I might as well do it while I’m here, sitting in this chair.”
“Sounds like a plan. Sit up and frown for me.”
I sat up and frowned. “Okay, you can sit back down.”
Debbie wiped my forehead with an antibacterial agent and Dr. Zambito injected the needle into my forehead at various spots. It went quickly and I was surprised when I walked out of the office how fast I’d spent a thousand dollars. I thought about all of the clothes I could’ve bought with that money, but then I reminded myself I wasn’t buying any new clothes until I’d lost the weight I wanted to lose. I’d gone up another dress size every year for the past four years, and I was tired of it. This year was going to be all about change. A new year, a new me. The year of Scarlett Eyster!
I couldn’t wait to see Shonna. She was home for her family reunion and coming over later to plan our trip. We were going to tackle another item on my list tomorrow: horseback riding. I’d found a place about an hour away and signed us up for the morning ride, which began at nine and lasted two hours.
I’d iced my lips after leaving the skin care center and they were still a little puffy when Shonna arrived that night.
Shonna hugged me. “You look fabulous! Turn around. Let me see.”
I turned in a circle to show off my new physique.
“How much did you lose?”
“Only nine so far. Still want to lose another thirty or so.”
Shonna squeezed her stomach fat. “I need to get rid of this. And this.” She pinched her love handles. “I look pathetic compared to you.”
I waved my hand. “Stop it. You look great.” I pulled up the photos on my phone Renee had taken my first day and showed them to Shonna. “I look at them every so often, especially when I really want to just binge on chocolate and chips.”
“I never thought you were heavy, but I can definitely see a difference. Yay you!”
Shonna hadn’t said anything about my lips so I stuck out my head, tilting it upward toward her face. “See anything different?”
“Your lips!” Shonna shouted. “They look great.” She bent over and leaned in close to get a better look.
“They’re still a little swollen, but they should be better by tomorrow,” I explained.
Shonna straightened her body. “They really do look good, Scarlett.”
“Thanks.” I poured Shonna and me a glass of wine and we flopped on the couch. Muffin jumped up beside me and I reached down to pet her.”
“She’s such a good dog,” Shonna said. “I wish Max was that calm.”
“Well, she is twelve. How’s Max anyway? Or should I ask, how’s Roger?”
Shonna laughed. “Max is the typical puppy, chewing what he shouldn’t be chewing and driving Roger insane. I think Max knows Roger’s not fond of him. Roger complained about missing socks. It turned out Max had taken them out of the laundry basket sitting on the floor and hidden them in his basket of toys!”
I mashed my lips together to avoid spitting out my wine. “Oh, no.”
“I found them when I packed Max’s things to bring him here.”
“So your Mom didn’t mind him coming along?”
“Not at all. She misses having a dog. Mitzy, her bichon, died about a year ago and she’s been thinking about getting another one. Mitzy’s death was particularly difficult for her, though.”
“We’ll have to get Muffin and Max together before you go back.”
“Absolutely.”
“So, where are we going to go on our road trip?”
“Route 66!” We said it simultaneously, then burst out laughing.
Shonna clapped her hands. “I thought we could fly into Chicago, rent a car and drive to Los Angeles. We could fly home from there. It’s the trip we always wanted to take when we were teens!”
“Okay, but I only have three weeks of vacation.”
Shonna set down her wine glass and retrieved her cell phone from her purse. “That’s plenty of time. I read a post from a guy who’s just returned from traveling Route 66 and he said two weeks allowed for a comfortable trip. He even spent a night at the Grand Canyon and a few nights in Vegas. I’ve already started doing some research.”
Shonna showed me a site that had tons of information about planning a trip on Route 66. “This is a good place to start, and they suggest a guidebook I want to order,” Shonna said. “It contains maps, lists, attractions, tips and a ton of other great stuff.”
The more Shonna and I talked about the trip, the more excited I became. “So, we can take up to three weeks. What sort of budget were you thinking?”
“I guess that depends on how many side trips we plan to take. Our biggest expense will probably be airfare, flying into Chicago and home from LA. Then we have the rental car, lodging, side trips, food.”
I sighed. “It’s not going to be cheap, but it will be the trip of a lifetime. Just the two of us, like we always planned.”
“Budget hotels are fine for me,” Shonna said. “But it would be great to stay in some original Route 66 motels, like the Wigwam, to get that authentic Route 66 feel. If we do that, we’ll probably want to make reservations.”
“I agree. Probably a mixture of prebooked motels and spontaneous stops is the way to go. And if, after planning our trip, we find we have extra days at the end, we could take Highway 1 up the West Coast to San Francisco, stopping at Santa Cruz and Monterey along the way. Then we could fly home from there.”
“That’s a great idea. Are you sure you’ll have the money to go? I mean, with moving and everything.”
“Yes. Financially I should be fine.”
We polished off the bottle of wine I’d opened while talking about our trip. We decided we’d each research Route 66 and make a list of places we’d like to see along the way and draft itineraries, including any must-stay motels. Then we’d compare our lists and compromise on a plan. Knowing us, we’d choose a lot of the same places to see and sl
eep.
Shonna checked the time on her phone. “Gosh! I hadn’t realized it was so late. I told Mom I’d be home for dinner. Want to come over to eat?”
“Not tonight, but make sure you tell your mom I said hi and send my love. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning to go horseback riding.”
Five minutes after Shonna left, Ed called. He had a contract. Correction, two contracts.
“Both are for the full asking price,” he explained. “One of the buyers also wrote a letter. I’d like to bring over the contracts if you’re going to be home.”
My heart started racing. “Sure. You can come over now.”
Thirty minutes later, Ed was ringing the doorbell.
I opened the door. “Please, come in.”
He followed me into the kitchen where I offered him a cup of coffee. Muffin realized someone new was in the house and came running into the room.
“Down, Muffin,” I yelled. “Don’t jump up on Ed.”
“She’s no problem,” he said, reaching down to rub the top of her head.
I poured Ed’s coffee. “Cream or black?”
He looked up from petting Muffin. “Black, please.”
I served Ed his coffee and sat down at the table across from him.
“So, as I told you on the phone, we’ve received two contracts, both for the full asking price. One of the buyers, Nick and Kristin Glass, wrote a letter and asked that it be presented along with their contract.”
I looked at the two stacks of paper on the table and picked up the letter lying on top of one of them.
I opened the letter and started to read:
Dear Ms. Eyster, Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to see your house. Nick and I live in an apartment three miles away. We’ve been looking for a home in the area and when we walked into yours, everything felt right. It’s obvious you’ve taken good care of your home and if you choose us as its next owners we promise to care for her as well as you have. We’re looking for a place where we can raise our children. Our first, a little girl, is due in a few months. As we walked through your house, we imagined Victoria…
A Year of Second Chances Page 10
