Would I Lie to You?

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “I’m Venus. I guess I never told you my name either.” Venus followed her to the doctor’s office. Lettie knocked before opening the door. Pauletta and Henry were sitting in two chairs pushed close together, holding hands, shoulder to shoulder for support.

  “Mom.” Venus squeezed her face between the two of them and kissed her mother on the cheek while hugging her father.

  “Hi, Precious.” Henry squeezed her shoulder. “Glad you came.”

  Venus checked her mother’s face to see if she felt the same way. Pauletta revealed a weak but genuine smile.

  “Dr. Lamb will be here any minute. Mrs. Johnston, you sure I can’t get you anything, water, decaf tea, juice, anything?”

  Pauletta shook her head no, but Venus leaned into Lettie’s ear, “Bring her some water.”

  “How you feeling, Mom?”

  Her head fell back on Henry’s shoulder. “I’m missing The View, sitting up here. They’re supposed to be interviewing that girl’s mother, the one that’s missing. I swear, this better not take all day.”

  “Mom, The View comes on in the morning, you already missed it.”

  Henry tightened his grip slightly, kissing the temple of her forehead. “I taped it for you, you were sleeping.”

  “Okay, the gang’s all here.” Dr. Lamb walked into the office, the lapels of his white coat neatly pressed down, his tie straight and perfect. This man dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s. Her mother was safe with Dr. Lamb. He extended a hand to Henry. “How’s our young lady doing today?”

  The use of the word young got a smile out of Pauletta. She lifted her head for the doctor.

  He went over her file, then closed it as if there was a simple solution. “This is an exciting time, Pauletta. These days we’ve narrowed down what to do for someone like you. You’ll be able to skip the experimental side of drugs and therapy. After going over your file, I’m thinking the best route is chemotherapy and forgo the radiation.”

  Venus let out an audible gasp. The room was silenced for a moment. She took the opportunity to ask a stupid question. “Is that going to be enough?”

  “Chemotherapy, in this case, will be a strong start.”

  “If it’s that strong, won’t she be sick from that, really sick?” Venus rubbed her itching palms.

  “There’s two types of therapy, light chemo, CMF, and there’s the heavy hitter called CAF. Because Pauletta’s lymph nodes tested negative, which means the cancer never left the station, CMF is the best treatment for her. The side effects are mostly limited to exhaustion. With exhaustion comes its own set of problems, irritability, restlessness, that type of thing. CMF isn’t the type to do damage to your kidneys or make you lose your hair,” he said to Pauletta, as if she had asked the question. “It may thin it out a little, but that’s about it” He slipped his reading glasses off.

  Henry and Pauletta stayed quiet. The presence of authority stifled her parents, which came as a shock, knowing how opinionated they both were, especially when it came to Venus, but here, before Dr. Lamb, they were docile creatures.

  “So, after the medicine, the chemo, will she be cancer free, rid of it for good?” Venus spoke up again.

  “The word is remission. Once someone has cancer, it’s better to always stay on alert, always watching. It’s like a war with a million enemies. You can destroy 999,999, but that one small thing surviving could create havoc and destruction all on its own. Once the chemo is complete, I’ll run more tests, then make that declaration.”

  Venus felt something tapping through her, an anxiety, a pressing stab. She swallowed and asked, “So there’s always a chance it will come back?”

  Dr. Lamb looked at her mother and father. “That’s why we’re going to fight, with everything we’ve got. Pauletta has to feel confident, have faith, and believe that she will beat this.” He smiled, then looked to Venus. “To look on the positive side, to know she’s going to be well and live a long full life … to see a couple of grandbabies go to college and do some extraordinary things.” He took a deep breath. “I want to do Pauletta’s physical exam, then we’ll do the CAT scan and MRI today while she’s here and start the chemo as well.”

  Venus didn’t mind so much when Dr. Lamb spoke in we’s. This was a we that felt like they were all working together.

  He stood up, straightening himself as he rose. Dr. Lamb’s warm hand landed on Venus’s shoulder. “You have to keep your side of the bargain. If Ms. Pauletta over here is going to outlive us all, you’d better get to work on those grandchildren.”

  “Yes, sir,” Venus said, trying to express lightness in her voice, all the while trying to stifle the urge to break down, Venus held it in, escorting her mother to the exam room.

  She helped her mother undress. The bandage was still wrapped tightly around her chest, neat and precise. This was her father’s work. He’d probably taken his time, putting all his concentration into the intricate detail of matching each layer of the gauze with the last, using the same time and concentration it took to put together one of his trains. Venus held the cotton exam robe in front of her mother, then slipped it down to go up her arms so she didn’t have to lift. Her mother sat down on the tissue-covered table. It hurt to see her this way.

  A nurse pushed in with a wheelchair while Venus was kissing her mother’s cheek.

  “Are we ready to go?”

  “Oh, I thought she was supposed to get examined by Dr. Lamb.”

  “Tests first, then exam.” The nurse was helping Pauletta into the chair. “We’ll come out and get you as soon as we’re done.”

  They wheeled out first, Venus followed, detouring when she saw her father through the cut out receptionist hole. Henry was sitting in the center of one of the long couches. He put his arm out for her to take the space beside him.

  “You did good, Precious.” Henry secured the arm around her shoulder. “She’s going to be fine. I know it. Do you know it?”

  Venus didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare disturb the lump in her throat; she took tiny gasps of air, while nodding her head.

  “Tell me how you’re doing with the little problem we talked about.” She didn’t respond, only kept her face against his shoulder. “I call it a little problem ’cause things have to be put into perspective, don’t they.”

  She nodded, unable to speak, not able to tell her father that the little problem was wrecking any salvageable mind she had left. Unable to think or walk straight, she, a grown woman, was not able to see where her heart and mind belonged—with someone she’d just met, or with a man who’d been by her side for the last two years. Her father had warned her not to measure, but life was nothing more than measurement and contrast, good and bad, right or wrong. There was no way not to see them side by side. Jake or Airic.

  “It’s all under control,” she lied. Such a small thing compared with what they were all going through right now. Small on the scale of things. Like the white dot on the gray slide of her mother’s mammogram. Almost undetectable. Tiny. But the consequences, the destruction, critical.

  She kissed her father, still holding her breath, still unable to chance breathing for fear of releasing the dam of confusion and guilt she carried. She held on to her father, wishing he could give her the answer, simply tell her what to do.

  BONES

  VENUS came into her apartment and threw herself on the conch. The day had been spent sitting with her mother during her first chemo treatment It may as well have been Venus who the nurse pierced, her arm taped to the needle that delivered the liquid fire. She held her mother’s hand the entire time, feeling her life move through her fingertips. The television had kept Pauletta’s attention while Venus watched her mother for signs of anything out of the ordinary. Occasionally Venus faded in and out of mock scenarios with Airic, how she would tell him. She’d promised herself as soon as she got back to the apartment she was going to call, at least lay down the groundwork, I’m questioning our relationship, the commitment doesn’t feel strong enough. Why didn’t you
marry me when you had the chance?

  She picked up the phone next to her bed. Every ounce of strength she had left went into dialing Airic’s phone number. An appointment of fate. A change of path and destination.

  “Airic Sanders.” His voice startled her.

  “I didn’t expect you to answer.” Venus steadied herself, trying to pronounce her words even and clear. “How’s it going?” She rolled her eyes to herself … how’s it going? “Airic, I’m coming to D.C. on Friday.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “We have some things to work out and I need to talk to you … in person.”

  “Exactly.”

  She paused breathlessly. What did he know? She relaxed when she heard him carrying on a secondary conversation. Preoccupied, he was orchestrating something else while a small part of him paid attention to what Venus had to say.

  “Sorry about that; now, what were you saying? Friday?”

  “I’ll be there in the late evening. I’ll meet you at the house.”

  “I’m looking forward to it You don’t know how much I miss seeing you padding around here.”

  Venus squeezed her eyes, a vivid picture of her and Airic lounging in the living room in front of the fireplace sharing the Sunday paper. Soft mellow jazz playing on the stereo while the snow melted and drizzled outside the bay window.

  “My mom started chemo today.” She changed the subject quickly. “She has to go every week for the next month and a half. She did good, better than me. I was a nervous wreck.”

  He didn’t respond. She guessed it was TMI, too much information.

  “So … I’ll see you Friday.” She wanted the conversation with herself to be over.

  “Can’t wait, love you,” he blurted out on cue.

  She held the phone against her face; the words wouldn’t come. She pushed the button, hanging up before he figured out she had refused to say “I love you too.” Although she did love him, in the same way her father had broken it down for her—commonality, bond, and friendship. But do you feel sheer joy just to be in his company? It had never been like that with her and Airic.

  It was more like a comfort zone of ease, nothing complicated. Neither had demonstrated passion about anything beyond their own careers. Their relationship had to fit around their work schedules. The same way they couldn’t secure a simple wedding date. Deep down Venus knew it was more than schedules that kept them from closing the deal. What would it have cost them, three, four hours tops on a quiet Saturday in a small church? Northern Virginia had plenty of them, one on every corner. They could have been back in their respective zones by sundown, Airic reading from the financial section of his business journal, Venus surfing magazines and reports looking for new trends. Two people who understood the ABC’s, Always Be Closing, and yet they couldn’t close the deal of their relationship, couldn’t or wouldn’t make it stick.

  The phone rang as soon as she hung up. She had no choice but to answer. If it was Airic asking what happened, why she’d hung up without saying I love you too, she would look more guilty by not answering at all. Less than thirty seconds later, obviously she would still be within arm’s reach of the phone.

  “Yes?” She answered cautiously.

  “I’m here.”

  “Here, where?”

  “In Los Angeles, at the airport.” Wendy sounded like a cheerleader. The Los Angeles excitement around her was already taking effect.

  “Wendy? You’re here, oh my God, I was planning to come to D.C. this weekend.”

  “The weekend’s a whole three days away. Look, I know I should have told you, but you were going to be like, no, no, I’m fine. When you’re not fine. So I’m here.” She repeated impatiently, “So I’m here. Are you coming to get me or not?”

  “I’m coming. Which terminal?”

  “United.”

  “Okay, half an hour, maybe an hour. Keep your cell phone on, I’ll let you know when I’m there, otherwise, stay inside.”

  “Think someone’s going to kidnap me? Yeah, you’re probably right. I am looking pretty cute in my Cali gear. Not a turtleneck to be seen. But I do need some sun … yes I do.”

  Venus smiled with the thought of Wendy in town. Her gal pal was like a perfect cool breeze on a hot humid day. She needed her friend to help her through this decision and not a minute too soon. Surely they’d laugh about it all, put it into perspective. Life and its funny way of working out. Wendy had become a good friend when they worked together in D.C. Venus thought Wendy went a little dramatic on the makeup in addition to her long silky jet black hair and honey clear eyes. Contacts, Venus had presumed, a weave, definitely. Once their friendship was solid, Venus asked as politely as possible. “Is all that yours?”

  “Is all that yours?” Wendy replied with the same trepidation. Venus grabbed a handful of her own (then straightened) hair, realizing that she must’ve looked the same way to Wendy. The long silky hair parted on the side, hanging past her shoulders. Miss America in black. They both had made assumptions about the other, not realizing that they were staring into the mirror.

  And, yes, Wendy’s light eyes framed by her dark chocolate skin were a hundred percent natural, no additives. The hair she indeed had grown out of her head, each and every beautiful strand.

  She threw off her sunglasses the minute she saw Venus pull up in the car. “No, you didn’t go out and get a BMW, with the top down. Oh … no … you … didn’t. I knew you were up to no good out here.” Wendy fastened her seat belt after throwing her one suitcase into the back.

  “I missed you, too.” Venus hugged her while she was still talking.

  “Ooooh, I know you’re up to no good. Don’t lie.”

  Venus put the gear in drive and sped off, happy to have her buddy by her side. Finally someone to help her see the error of her ways.

  THEY sat across from each other in the Killer Shrimp restaurant at Venice Beach. Wendy and Venus ate in the small cozy booth exchanging catchup details. The kids, Tia and Jamal, were doing well. Jamal was beginning to wear his pants sagged on his hips and Wendy had threatened to make him wear suspenders if he couldn’t keep them up right. Her husband, Sidney, was trying to get on with the fire department since Washington, D.C.’s, police department was like being on a hit list A report of an officer down was on the news at least twice a week.

  “Worst of it all, is that sometimes I wish it were Sidney.”

  Venus put her iced tea down with a thud on the table. “Please don’t say things like that, Wendy.”

  “I know. I know it’s wrong. But sometimes, I think, just get it over with. We’ve been married seventeen years, and I can’t remember not worrying about that man. Constant. I have to go in for color touch-ups every other week just to hide the gray hairs. It’s sad. You know how many times I wonder how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t been so desperate to get married? To anybody. Nineteen years old and wanting to be married, can you imagine?”

  “I can imagine. Would you rather be in my shoes?”

  “Your shoes are looking pretty good.” Wendy sipped on her margarita.

  “You and Sidney have two beautiful children. Beautiful,” Venus reemphasized. “You’re lucky, in more ways than one.” She leaned in, capturing the attention of Wendy’s intense eyes. “While I was looking for information about breast cancer, I read that women who have babies before the age of twenty-five reduce their risk of getting breast cancer in the future.”

  “What kind of crap is that? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Wendy scooped a fork full of pasta with shrimp.

  “It was in black and white, not just in one book either, the same thing in a few books. A hormone is produced once you give birth that sends out protective enzymes in the breast. Then when you breast-feed, it also helps clean out the toxins, the ones they think are responsible for the cancer.”

  “That is so nasty.” Wendy scrunched up her face. “The baby cleans you out?”

  “Something like that; whatever it i
s, it doesn’t hurt the baby and it’s supposed to be good for the mother.”

  “So because I was fool enough to marry the first man who looked my way and dropped two babies before I had the sense not to, I’m good to go?”

  Venus took another sip from her straw. A flash nearly made her choke. She’d forgotten, but here it was, the memory, icy cold and flat as the liquid going down her throat. She’d been pregnant. Venus remembered her mother sitting beside her humming a small erratic tune, nothing in particular, rubbing and stroking her back while she filled out the paperwork. Venus Johnston. Nineteen. Status? Unmarried student. Number of times pregnant? Once. Venus could see the medical paperwork plain and clear as on the day she’d filled it out The smell of the waiting room, stale and unemotional. Girls, younger than her, lined the walls in the waiting chairs, some with mothers, some with boyfriends, most with no one at all. She remembered being grateful for her mother, being able to tell her, “Mom, I’m pregnant.” Her mother had nothing to say that day, simply opened the yellow pages and went down the list, dialing numbers, asking about availability, the words as soon as possible, then the spelling of her daughter’s name and “thank you, we’ll be there.”

  Venus and her mother had squeezed past the pro-lifers who carried picket signs with pictures of bloodied babies and torn wombs. Inside the waiting room she’d filled out papers on a wooden clipboard. The chipped edge left a splinter in her polyester pants. She’d picked at the annoying edge pushing against her skin to no avail, it was too small to find. The turmoil outside made it nerve racking to sit and wait. It had been a terrible time of violence. Bombings by people that claimed to care about saving human life but doctors and nurses could die. It made no sense.

  Venus had checked her watch continually every few minutes, anxious to get it over with. She realized she’d been waiting nearly two hours. Still, there were more women that had been waiting even longer, far more anxious, far more desperate. She remembered one in particular, a girl no older than fifteen who’d rushed through the door after being escorted by two sheriff’s deputies. Her protruding belly attracting the pro-lifers like fresh meat thrown into a lion’s den. “I’m late. I know,” she cried. “But I can’t wait.” She rubbed her rounded stomach while holding another child, leaning on her hip. The receptionist told her that wasn’t the problem. Children were not allowed in the clinic. She had to leave.