“Use the pool today?” he asked, going to the table and pulling out a chair.
Faye arranged a large platter of sandwiches and placed them in the center of the table, even though there were only the two of them.
“Right! We had a swim this morning,” Faye said. “I made these when I thought you’d be home. So it worked out perfectly after all!” She turned around to get a pitcher of lemonade, trying to stay calm. Bill’s dad was afraid to open his mouth, not sure what sound, if any, would come out.
“My client cancelled at the last minute,” Bill said, reaching for the food. He didn’t pick up on the nervous tension in the room, yet.
Faye left to get dressed, hoping the old man wouldn’t break down and confess anything to his son. Faye locked herself in the bathroom. She felt awful, but what was done was done. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and pulled on shorts and a sleeveless summer top, then quickly changed to a T-shirt when she noticed the beard burn on her upper arm and chest. When she came out minutes later, she heard laughter before she entered the kitchen again. Disaster had been narrowly averted. They would have to be more careful next time.
~ ~ ~
Lynn Bradshaw sat on the sidewalk outside of the public health clinic in Wilmington, waiting with fifty other homeless people to see the doctor. Or in this case today, the nurse practitioner. Lynn preferred to see the nurse; she treated her with respect and didn’t talk down to her like the doctor from Pakistan did.
“I have a lump in my breast,” she said when a woman with a clipboard asked her what she was waiting for. The woman wrote something down.
“Have you had a mammogram in the past?” she asked. “I only ask because it would be nice to have the films.”
“I’m not forty yet,” Lynn replied. If the woman was surprised, she didn’t say so; Lynn looked like she was sixty.
“Oh, okay. You’ve got about a two-hour wait. Come up to the door, and get some lunch,” the woman said.
Lynn went up to the door, and a volunteer gave her a box lunch and cup of coffee. Lynn preferred tea, but she wasn’t passing up on the coffee. She went back to her place in the line to eat, but before she could sit on the pavement again, the woman returned with a slip of paper.
“When you’re done eating, please go to the X-ray department,” and here she pointed over Lynn’s head to the building behind them and two blocks over, “and have a mammogram. They will be waiting for you. Take your time, and finish your lunch.”
Lynn did as she was told. The food was delicious—roast beef on soft rye bread with a pickle and chips. She threw the box and empty cup in the trash can on the corner and walked the two blocks to the hospital.
The guard at the door looked at her slip of paper and directed her to go to the next door and down a flight of stairs. He didn’t react to her, used to the homeless receiving services at this facility. Lynn followed his directions and ended up at a counter in a brightly lit, cheerful room filled with other waiting people.
“You’ll have a bit of a wait,” the receptionist said. “About half an hour. There’s coffee down the hall; I made it myself just a few minutes ago. And hot water for tea.”
Lynn thanked her and went to get tea. On the way to the tea cart, she passed a bathroom sign. It might be a good opportunity to freshen up. She hadn’t had a shower or a change of clothes in a couple of days and was beginning to feel itchy. Her own smell bothered her. She unzipped her shorts and pulled off her shirt and, using paper towels and the soap from the wall pump, had a good wash-up. She wished she had a brush. She would ask the receptionist if she had a comb; often in the hospital, they had leftover patient care kits for the homeless. The receptionist wiggled her finger for Lynn to follow her. She led her to a small shower room with stacks of clean clothes and many toiletries.
“Take whatever you need,” she said, leaving Lynn alone. Out of a stack of shirts and shorts, Lynn found a nice outfit which would fit her, clean underpants and bra, and new flip-flops. She took a hot shower and washed and conditioned her hair. When she was done brushing her teeth, she wrapped the toothbrush in a paper towel and stuck it in her pants pocket. She felt great. When she walked out to the waiting area again, the receptionist smiled at her. Lynn felt indebted and said, “Thank you.” The receptionist nodded her head.
She waited for another fifteen minutes before her name was called. A young woman took her back to the exam area. She asked if she could exam Lynn’s breasts before they did the mammogram. The lump was as big around as a lima bean and easy to find. Lynn was instructed to lie down on an exam table. She covered up with a large, warm blanket. In spite of it being 98 degrees out, it was cold in the hospital. The woman returned, wheeling a machine, and was followed by another, older woman who was wearing street clothes and a lab coat.
“I’m Doctor Segara,” she said. “May I examine your breast?” Lynn nodded, and the doctor felt her lump. “I’d like to do an ultrasound before we do the mammogram. If your lump is a fluid-filled cyst, the compression of the mammogram may burst the cyst, so I’d like to take a look at it first.”
Lynn shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever you need to do,” she said, thinking your tax dollars at work. She pulled the sheet off Lynn’s breasts and examined both and then applied a glop of conductive jelly to her skin and using a phallic-shaped wand, did the ultrasound. Lynn, the intuitive, was sure the doctor was concerned. She asked all the usual questions.
“Do you smoke? Drink? Drugs? History of cancer in the family?”
“My mother has lymphoma,” Lynn said.
The doctor wrote. “Okay, well, the mass looks solid by ultrasound. Let’s get the mammogram over with.” She reached out her hand to shake Lynn’s. So maybe having something untoward in your body gets you more respect than you’re used to, she thought. The mammogram was painful, but she did deep breathing, like she was taught to do when she broke her arm and the ER doctor told her she could leave right away if they didn’t give her any narcotics for pain. Slow, deep breathing, focusing on the clock ticking or another repetitive sound. It worked when it was so cold at night that she thought she’d die in her sleep, or when she had a toothache and couldn’t get in to the clinic to have it pulled right away. When the technician was finished, she told Lynn to have a seat and if they didn’t need to take more films, she was free to go back to the clinic. They’d forward the report to the doctor at the clinic. Lynn put her shirt back on and had just left the exam room when they told her she could go. She walked past the receptionist and wanted to acknowledge her kindness again, but she was busy with another dirty-looking human being, so Lynn left.
Back at the clinic, she waited her turn, and when it came, the nurse practitioner herself came out and got her. The hair on the back of Lynn’s neck went up. What the hell?
“I’m glad you came back,” she said.
“I might be homeless, but I’m not an idiot. I know there’s something wrong in my body,” Lynn replied, still frightened that the nurse came to get her.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it like that. Sometimes clients get sick of waiting and leave, that’s all. No malice intended, okay?” She held out her hand for Lynn to shake. They walked side by side into the building. Lynn followed the nurse into an exam room.
“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to a chair while she closed the door. “I don’t have to examine you. The radiologist is fairly certain that your lump is suspicious. The mammogram report is right here. Would you like to read it?” She held it out to Lynn, who looked it over, not sure what it meant.
“What do I do?” she asked.
“The doctor would like to do a needle biopsy. A needle is inserted into the area to extract some cells. We’ll have a report in a few days, and if it is positive, the tumor is removed in a more extensive biopsy,” she said.
“Is that the dumbed-down version?” Lynn asked, still feeling hostile.
“Ha! No, not really. There’s no point in getting worked up until we know what you’re dealing with,” sh
e said pensively. “Do you have a place to stay if it should come to doing a surgical biopsy?”
Lynn looked down at her hands. She hated shelters. The only place would be her mother’s house, and that would be torture. “Not really,” she answered. “But if I have to go somewhere, my mother is in south Jersey.”
“If you have time, you can have the needle biopsy now,” she said, preparing to leave the room.
“Okay,” Lynn answered. I’m free this afternoon, she thought. A trip to the clinic for a breast exam had stretched out to wasting the entire morning. She looked at the clock. If the needle biopsy didn’t take long, she might be able to see her brother. She and John were the closest out of the four children. He wasn’t thrilled with the way she lived, but he didn’t harp on her about it. Her sisters were awful: spoiled, silly women who had the luxury of being bored. Lynn sniffed with her nose in the air, thinking about how they looked down on her. If they only knew I felt the same way, she thought smugly.
The doctor returned in a few minutes, followed by a nurse with a tray of supplies. It was quick, a pinch when the needle went in and a swipe with an alcohol sponge. She put a small square of gauze over it with a big piece of tape.
“You can take that off in thirty minutes. It’s just so you don’t get a bruise.”
Lynn got up to leave and, for the first time in years, looked around for any belongings she may have left behind, forgetting she didn’t have anything with her. It didn’t take much to slip back into old routines. She was homeless. She didn’t have a box she slept in, or bags of rags, or any mementos.
“Come back on Thursday, okay? I should have some results for you by then.” The doctor reached into her pocket for a business card. “I’m here every day but Tuesday and Sunday.”
Lynn looked at the card, not getting the significance; doctors don’t normally share their contact information with just anyone. She said good-bye to the doctor, thanking her. She walked back to the hospital to see her brother.
John’s department was on the eighth floor. The receptionist knew Lynn and would call the room he was working in to let him know she was waiting. Days in which she had a shower and clean clothes were the days she liked to visit him. Once, a few months ago when it was still cool out, he’d found her sleeping on the steps of the post office, embarrassing her. She could tell he was appalled at her condition and avoided hugging her when they parted.
After a forty-minute wait, John appeared. He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said. They walked side by side to the cafeteria. “What’s new?”
“I had a needle biopsy of a lump in my right breast this afternoon. I found the lump on Sunday and went to the clinic today. They had me come here to radiology for a mammogram. The report said it was suspicious for carcinoma. So that’s what’s new with me. What’s new with you?”
John looked at Lynn, shocked. “My wife found out I’m having an affair with a twenty-nine-year-old nurse. Other than that, nothing much. Let’s get back to your news,” he said, grabbing her shoulder.
She backed away. “Oh no, you don’t! Back up. What the hell happened, John? You love Beth,” Lynn said.
“I did love Beth. Now I don’t even know if I like her,” he admitted. “I think we’re tired of each other, and if she would tell the truth, she feels the same way. History is no reason to stay together.”
Lynn wasn’t sure about that, having never had a relationship before. But history seemed like a really good reason to stay. History was the one thing she didn’t have with anyone.
“It seems sort of selfish to me,” she said honestly. “I mean, what about your kids? Isn’t Amy going to be crushed?” Amy was their twelve-year-old.
“Jason’s going to college in the fall, and Brian hates me,” John said. “Amy will be fine. It’s worse for her to see her parents barely tolerating each other. Don’t make me feel guilty, you of all people.”
Lynn gave a rare laugh. “My love is not unconditional, my dear brother. I guess if they can forgive me, they’ll forgive you.” She thought of a Sunday afternoon, many years earlier, in which John brought his growing family into Wilmington for a museum visit, and Lynn ran into them as she exited the public bathrooms there. She’d never forget the look on Amy’s face.
“Aunt Lynn! Do you live at the museum?” she had asked. It was reality at its worst. Now, all her nieces and nephews viewed her the way their parents did, from Faye’s hateful response to homelessness, to John’s compassion. He regularly brought her cards from his kids. Would that end once he was out of the house? Beth didn’t seem to care about her at all. What interest there was in her life was solely from John.
“You’ll get used to it,” John said. “It’s not like Beth was in your life anyway.”
“This is true. So what do we do now? Unfortunately, I don’t have an extra room for you to stay in,” Lynn said.
“Well, I just had an idea. If I got a place here in town, would you stay with me?” he asked. “It would help in two ways. There won’t be room for my girlfriend, and I’ll avoid the bachelor pad phenomenon.”
“Ha! You think that’ll be an issue?” Lynn asked, laughing. “I don’t see you having that problem.”
“You laugh, but I’m considered quite a catch at work. The women are always saying how lucky Beth is.” But he shook his head, laughing, too. “No, that’s not it. I think I might be lonely living alone, and I don’t want this young woman moving in with me because I’m used to having my family around. And it will give you an excuse to come in out of the weather. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Lynn said. “I might need a place now. Not sure how easy it is to get cancer treatment while you’re living on the street. I’m sure people do it all the time. Are you willing to take on the hassle of having a sick person living with you?”
He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her. “Oh, I think I can handle it.”
They got lunch and sat down at an empty table.
“What’s next? There’s still a chance you might not have cancer. I don’t like talking as though you do.”
Lynn smiled at her brother, endeared that he was always the optimist when it came to his family. Not so much for himself.
“I go back to the clinic on Thursday, they’ll give me the results, and I can either go back to my cardboard box or come to live with you, depending on the outcome.”
“You should live with me regardless of the diagnosis. I won’t make any demands on you, I promise,” he said.
“That’s very nice of you, John, but you’re pretty unrealistic.” She could see him harping on her, encouraging her to do something with her life. Just staying alive was all she could cope with. “We’ll see. Let’s just think about it for now. When do you think you’ll move out?”
“Soon. I just need the time to find a place. This weekend, possibly. By the way, our mother has lost her mind and run off with a younger man; on the back of his motorcycle, I might add.”
Lynn looked at him, unbelieving. “Alice with a man? No way.”
“It’s true. April’s husband found her car broken down on 295, and she finally remembered to call Vicky three days later. We thought she’d run into some foul play, but they were on their way to New Mexico or Arizona to ‘buy antiques’ or something like that,” John said.
“Well, it’s about time. She deserves some fun,” Lynn said.
John looked at his sister, surprised that she of all of his siblings would be supportive of their mother’s ridiculous behavior. But he didn’t argue with her.
“That’s a different way to look at it,” he said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Why? Do you disagree? She worked at a job she couldn’t have liked very much and raised us alone all those years. When do you recall her ever doing anything for herself? No, it’s about time,” she repeated. “I’m happy for her.”
John finished up his food. Lynn barely touched hers.
“Why didn’t you eat? You usua
lly scarf down anything put in front of you.”
“I don’t like surprises,” she said, pushing the noodles dotted with an unrecognizable meat around with her fork. “Anyway, they gave me a sandwich at the clinic. Sorry I’m wasting this.”
“Let’s go,” he said. “So do you want to go apartment hunting with me later this week?”
Lynn thought of the logistics of it, how she’d get a shower and a change of clothes in before Saturday. Usually, she was lucky if she could manage it once a week. But if she got news on Thursday, she might be ready to see him Saturday, just for the support.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you want me to meet you here?” She might be able to get the nurses in the ER to allow her to shower. They were often good about it, offering her clean scrubs to wear, too.
“Great,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “See you around ten on Saturday in front of the lobby.” They parted ways, John going back to work and Lynn back to wandering around town.
Chapter 8
While Dave finished up last-minute shipping arrangements, Alice sat at the window of a small café in town. It was too hot on the terrace, so she sat indoors at a little table in the corner, which gave her a wide view of the room and the street. The waitress brought her a large iced coffee and a decadent-looking pastry; never one to worry about her weight, she enjoyed good food on this trip.
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