by Mia Moore
“Yes…? Are you sure you’re okay? Things are going well with Don, aren’t they?”
I rolled my eyes and exhaled loudly. Damn, she was good. It had been a mistake to call her. If I wasn’t careful I’d blurt everything out and start crying. “No. I mean yes, he’s great.”
“And?”
“I was thinking of Grandma last night. She died of old age but was there anything else, something that brought her death on? You know, bad heart, cancer?” I held my breath waiting for her to say something.
“She had cancer in her liver. She decided not to get the treatments, not at her age. Sara, what the hell is going on? What’s with the family questions, especially about death?” Now she sounded annoyed.
“It’s nothing. Don and I were talking about our grandparents, reminiscing and I realized I didn’t know much about Grandma’s health. I was only nine when she passed.” Cancer? Really? Oh my God. My throat became tight and I knew I had to get off the phone soon.
“Yeah. Why don’t you come over for lunch? We can talk.”
“I can’t. I’m going to get a leg up on the Christmas shopping today, when the stores aren’t so crowded. What would you like me to get you for Christmas? What about the boys? What would they like?” Another lie. I was getting good at dodging the truth.
“Just give them gift certificates at the mall. I don’t even dare to actually get them stuff. They’d just hate it anyway. As for me and Ralph, just come for dinner. That’d be present enough for us.”
“You got it. Cheap and I get a good meal to boot. Sounds like a plan. I better get going. Talk to you later.”
I touched the screen, ending the call and held the phone in my hand, watching the traffic whizz by with vacant eyes. How would I ever get through the next little while, waiting for the visit to the hospital? Probably taking to my bed, feigning the flu would be the best course. There’d be less interaction with Don or anyone else for that matter. No one could help me with this and I sure as hell didn’t want to burden them with it anymore than I wanted their pity.
I pulled out into traffic at the first break and headed for home. There was one stop I had to make first though—a place where I hadn’t been, in way too long a time. After five minutes driving I saw the gleaming white structure and the cross on the gable peak of the roof. I pulled into the church parking lot and got out of the car. Maybe there was one thing I could do to help myself. Pray.
Chapter 4: Sky Diving and Mountain Climbing?
The imaging department was in the bowels of the large, sprawling hospital, no windows, only bland beige corridors and bleak waiting rooms with outdated ‘Glamour’ and ‘Field and Stream’ magazines. The few people seated there looked nervous, shifting their bodies at regular intervals in the bright orange, plastic chairs.
“Ms. Elliott?”
My head bobbed up from gazing at the floor to see a middle aged, Asian woman in mauve scrubs holding a chart and scanning the room with her dark eyes.
“Here.” I jumped up and tried to return the smile she sent my way.
“Follow me.” She led the way down a corridor and pulled a light green curtain open. “I need you to wear a hospital gown. You can change here, and you can leave your pants on. I’ll be in the room across the hall, Imaging B-3.”
Ten minutes later, I was on the bed, gown open, arm raised over my head and behind me. The Tech, (her name was Martha) stood next to me, squeezed warm jelly onto my breast. She picked up a small wand-like instrument attached to a machine and the computer screen in front of her.
“Comfortable?” Without waiting for an answer she placed the tip of the wand against my breast. She started at the top, circling outward and down.
She watched the screen. I watched her face. For the first section, there was absolutely no emotion. Martha would make an excellent poker player. She moved the wand down to the lump. For a fraction of a second I saw her bite her lower lip and her eyelashes flickered. Her face once more resumed the indecipherable mask as she steadily pressed into the mass.
“Is it a cyst?” My lips pressed close together waiting, scanning her.
She glanced at me and then back to the screen. She closed her eyes for a second and opened them again. “I’m not allowed to discuss the test with you. The Radiologist will interpret the results and forward them to your doctor.” She glanced over and met my eyes with her own black orbs.
“Is it cancer? Please, you’ve done this millions of times. You know. Please tell me.” My eyes welled up and she became a blur.
“The doctor will tell you.” This time she stayed focused on the screen. She pursed her lips.
The inscrutable poker player had just let a tell slip. That pursing of lips was the kiss of death.
Oh my God. She didn’t have to confirm it. The quick expression earlier, biting her lip and the eyes widening—now her lips pursing told it all.
I had cancer.
****
I got in the car and slammed the door shut. One hand gripped the steering wheel, while the other turned the key in the ignition. The high pitched whir of the ignition being held for too long broke through the rage and I let the key go.
Women die of breast cancer, despite the reassurance my doctor had tried to give me. But, the lump was small. Maybe they could do a small surgery and get it? But what if it was that bad kind of cancer—as if there’s any good kind? Something about lymph nodes? What the hell is a lymph?
I remembered a few years ago my sister telling me about a woman from her church. It was a tragic story. Linda (I think that was her name) was a mother of two young children who found a lump. It invaded her lymph nodes or something.
She not only lost both breasts—she was dead in three months!
“Two MORE days?” What the fuck! I had to wait two days to hear from my doctor about the results? Did I really need to have a doctor tell me what I already knew? The look on the Tech’s face told me everything I needed to know.
I put the car in reverse and backed up, stopped when another car leaving, roared its horn at me, barely missing my back fender. FUCK! I wouldn’t die of breast cancer; I was going to get killed in a car wreck at this rate. And the fact that I hadn’t slept in the past two days wasn’t helping.
I cut off another car and heard the high pitched beep of a foreign import. I raised my hand, finger extended flipping the bird. Fuck you. You got cancer buddy? Didn’t think so, asshole.
This was getting me nowhere. I saw a drug store and pulled up in front. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep. Maybe all this will be gone when I wake up, like a bad dream. Yeah right.
I walked into the store and headed to the aisle with the sleeping products. I turned in and stopped dead in my tracks. Oh my God, Joanne. Did she see me? Could I make a quick exit?
“Sara? Sara Holland! I can’t believe it!” Joanne had been squatting next to the pain medication section and rose slowly to a standing position. “No, it’s Elliott now isn’t it? Or is it? Stupid me.” She hit the side of her forehead with her palm.
“Joanne. It HAS been a while. How are you doing?” She’d put on about twenty-five pounds since our days in high school. On a woman five foot nothing that was a LOT. Back then, she was almost skinny, except for the big boobs--a cheerleader and the high school slut. But more importantly, she’d married my first love, Phil.
“Great! Except for a little arthritis, I’m doing fine. How ‘bout you? I heard you and Jeff Elliot had split. I’m sorry.” Her eyebrow raised and side of her mouth curled up. “He was always an asshole. I never liked him.”
It would have been weird if I didn’t ask… “How’re Phil and the kids?”
Her face almost beamed when I mentioned her family. “Phil’s great, same old crazy guy. My oldest, Zoe is in college at Kent State and the boys are still in high school, getting good grades and planning on college.” She gave a snort and shook her head. “Totally un-like me or Phil. I’m proud of them.”
A flashback of Phil, six feet tall, long hair, ripped
jeans and a smart ass grin on his face flashed in my mind. If I’d stayed with him, I could be the woman standing across from me. Sure, she needed a trip to a hair stylist, and yes her clothes were worn through in a couple of spots, and those sandals she was wearing were ready for the trash.
And none of that mattered. The happiness and joy on her face eclipsed all of it. She could have been head to toe in Versace and it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. Standing in front of me was a woman who had it all.
“That’s wonderful. Look, I hate to do this but I’ve got an appointment…” I lifted my arm and looked at my wristwatch, sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’ve got to split.” I grabbed the first bottle of sleeping pills I saw and stepped away. “I’ll call you sometime and we can get together for coffee. Catch up on things.”
There was a curious look on Joanne’s face as she raised her hand and fingers fluttered in a farewell, but it didn’t matter. I had to get out of there.
As the cashier rang me through, I thought of Phil again. He’d been the first, the guy I lost my virginity to. It hadn’t been all that classy in the back seat of his beater car, but it had been sweet. We were in love and had talked about marriage even though we were only in grade twelve.
We were the cool kids in high school— Seniors rule all!—the ones who smoked, skipped class and partied. Joanne was part of the gang and had always had a thing for Phil. But it was me he loved. And I loved him.
Until that night.
I’d told him that I could drive us home from the party but he could be headstrong. Sure enough he ran off the road and into a tree. He walked away without a scratch. I got that scar on my forehead. Never wore bangs before that but after…I always do.
He did have the decency to be guilt ridden about it. When I got out the hospital and he came to the house he couldn’t look me in the eye. When I tore off the bandage on my head and showed him the 27 angry red, swollen stitches he started to cry.
“Your tears will stop Phil! I’ll have this for the rest of my life!” He pleaded for forgiveness. He got down on his knees and begged.
And I threw him out. Out of my house, and out of my life. Right into Joanne’s arms.
She wasn’t the only one waiting in the wings. Jeff and I started up a while after the accident. Now that I think about it, he didn’t ask me out until my bangs had grown in.
Jeff. Sixteen years with a guy that loved himself and his career far more than he’d ever loved me. I became the appendage on his arm, the junior partner. My primary job was to make him look good. Sure I took it on—if he succeeded, we succeeded right? I thought it was a fair trade off. Until I became the trade in model when he met his trophy wife.
Even the divorce settlement was unfair. I was the one that worked full time and put him through college. Then grad school. His company held off giving him that huge promotion—the one that tripled his already good income—until after the divorce. The son of a bitch laughed in my face as soon as the papers were signed.
Instead of saying he was sorry how it all worked out, he laughed at me.
At least Phil had apologized…
I got into my car and thought once more of Joanne, how different our lives were. even though we’d hung out together so many years ago. Joanne had followed her heart and now had everything she’d dreamed of—a loving husband and three great kids. True, she and Phil didn’t have a lot of money, but they had everything they needed.
I pulled out of the parking space and drove the ten minutes home, thankfully without any horns blaring or near misses.
I…just…can’t…think…about…this…ANYMORE! I turned the radio on, loud. A country song came on, something about skydiving, of all things. I looked twice over my shoulder looking for oncoming cars as I merged into the other lane.
Wait. The guy was singing about a bucket list. Skydiving was on his. I leaned forward and glanced at the gray November sky. Bucket list? Is this your idea of a joke, Jesus? If it is, it’s not funny.
Skydiving. Rocky mountain climbing. Sorry, I’m afraid of heights and as for mountain climbing, did it once and wasn’t overly impressed. This was stupid.
Okay, so what would be on my bucket list? I’ve finally met a man I love. My stomach dropped through the seat. Aw shit, I thought we’d grow old together.
Don’s truck was in the driveway when I arrived home. What the hell? It’s only 11:30 a.m.?
Chapter 5: SBD
He was sitting in the living room when I came through the front door.
“Hey… this is a surprise,” I said.
“That makes two of us.”
I put my coat away and glanced over my shoulder. His head was cocked to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He leaned forward in his armchair. “Well, you’ve been home sick from work the last couple of days, so I figured that you would like some lunch brought home.” He jerked a thumb to the kitchen. “There’s chicken soup and some buttered rolls on the counter for you.” He nodded to me. “Where you been?” He waved a hand in the air. “No… what’s going on with you?”
My breath hitched in my throat, squeezing my stomach into a tight ball. I stepped into the living room and faced him. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on. I’m getting a drink of water.” I smiled and shook my head, trying to make light of it.
“I called here earlier and you didn’t answer. Where were you?”
“I went to the drugstore if you must know. What’s with the third degree?” Jesus, an argument with Don was not what I needed right then. I started to walk away, go into the bedroom and lie down but he stood and grabbed my arm.
“Sara. What’s up with you? The last couple of days you’ve been weird. You’ve been too quiet and then when you DO say something, you’re either sarcastic or just plain grouchy. Okay, you’ve got the flu or something, but to be honest, you don’t look sick to me.” The muscle in his jaw worked, teeth clenched together as he examined my face with his eyes.
Every muscle in my body turned to jelly and I sighed. This was way too much to handle. I just stared at him.
“Where were you, really?” His fingers bit into the muscle of my arm.
My eyes closed and head fell back, facing the ceiling. When I looked at him, his eye twitched, lips set together. My throat grew tight and I swallowed, tried taking a deep breath but it was no use. The tears started and I wasn’t sure they would ever stop.
“Sara?” His voice was softer now and he took me into his arms.
“Oh Don. I’m sorry I’ve been this way but…but…” I blubbered into the coarse wool of his jacket.
He gripped my arms and pulled my body away from his, looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I could feel my lips quiver, and tears started rolling down my face. My voice was small when I answered him. “I found a lump in my breast. I’ve been at the doctor’s.”
“What?”
I burst into sobs. “I have cancer!”
Now I know what dumbfounded looks like. His face didn’t register anything for a few seconds. Then he said, “Oh God.” He pulled me into him again and for a long time we just stood like that, each of us holding on for dear life.
I pushed away from him and closed my eyes before I spat the words. “It’s so fucking unfair! Just when I meet the love of my life, this happens! Why does life have to be so unfair?” Now with the words out, I really started sobbing.
“Sara, we’ll get through this. What did your doctor say?” He put his arm over my shoulder and walked me into the living room. We sat down and he held my hand watching my face.
“She said it could be a cyst.” I waved my hand beside my head. “But I think she’s lying.”
“Why?”
“The tech.”
Still holding me by the shoulders, he stepped away so he could look me in the face. “The tech?”
I nodded. “Yeah. The one that did the ultra sound.”
“Go on…”
“Her face squinched!”
“It what?”
“When… when she was rubbing my boob with the thingamajig, she made a face!”
“What kind of face? Show me.”
I made the same face. My lower lip went out and up to the side, and my eyebrows creased.
“That’s the face?”
I nodded. “Yeah! And she’s Chinese! They’re inscrutable! They never make faces!”
He shook his head. “She didn’t make a face about your boob, honey. I’ve seen that look on you.”
“What?”
“That’s the SBD face.”
“The WHAT?”
“Silent But Deadly. That’s the face you make when you let out a silent fart. You know, easing one out slowly so there’s no noise.” He crossed his arms. “I think the Tech farted.”
I thought about it for a minute. “I don’t have cancer?”
“I ain’t no doctor Sara! I don’t know! I do know that neither do you!”
I shook my head in confusion. “Me neither what?”
“You don’t know either, that neither!”
“But I might?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” His face got serious. “Yeah… you might. But I’ll take a maybe over a definitely any day of the week.”
“SBD? You sure?”
“That? Oh yeah, absolutely.”
I now know what a death row inmate feels like who just got a stay. The entire planet—hell, the universe—just fell off my shoulders.
My limbs once more melted, floated upward as I looked into his eyes. I could almost believe that it would turn out fine. “Don?”
“Mmhmm?”
“I need a drink. Let’s get drunk.”
Chapter 6: Twenty Eight? Or Twenty Nine?
A couple hours and many drinks later, I told him about running into Joanne in the drugstore.
“Oh my God, I haven’t thought of her in years and years.” He laughed and turned from the counter, stopped pouring the vodka, holding it in the air.
My eyes opened wide and my mouth dropped for a second. “You knew her? You were just a sophomore back then.” XXX go back to top and put Sara in grade 12 (a Senior) at time of accident
