“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Better to pretend he’s not your employer.”
“It’s just not something I want to deal with right now.”
“So he’s not a good kisser, huh?” she asked.
“Well, I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know, he’s not.”
“Maybe it was me.”
“What were you doing?”
“Thinking about the weather.”
“Forget him. He’s cute, but he’s a wet fish. Move on.”
“Sometimes it takes time to relax around someone before you enjoy kissing them,” Meredith said.
“Why don’t you cut your losses and try again with someone who can’t fire you?”
“Because we have another date tomorrow.”
“Meredith, you’d be doing both of you a favor if you stop it now.”
At work on Monday, Peter was extremely professional. He didn’t give anything away. He was in her office, showing her changes he wanted made on a program she was redesigning for him when Charlene popped in.
“Oops. Sorry. I’ll come back.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” Peter told her. “I could use a break. I don’t know how you guys do this all day long. Monotonous is a word that comes to mind.”
“Well,” Charlene began, “my visit wasn’t really work-related.” She looked over at Meredith. “What are you doing tonight?”
Peter stood. “I’ll be by later to finish this. Bye Charlene. Have fun tonight.”
“There’s a concert at the cultural center that looks good. Tickets are only five dollars.”
“Oh, I’d love to but I’ve already got plans. What about tomorrow?”
“Let me call and check to see if seats are available.”
“Thanks for asking me,” Meredith added. Charlene’s invitation made her feel like one of the gang.
Peter made dinner. Meredith wondered if this was a part of a typical seduction plan he employed on dates. She felt weird, sitting at his kitchen table with a glass of white wine while he moved around the kitchen, grinding, chopping, and straining. She couldn’t help but think of times when...no! She would not think about anything but this moment. Peter's table was plastic wood. His whole house was surprisingly unimaginative.
“I thought you’d have a sleek decorative thing going on here.”
“Really? Why?”
“I guess because of the way you dress. Your house doesn’t seem to fit you.”
He took some spinach out of the fridge. “Yeah. Dave’s always telling me I need to upgrade. I guess I could hire someone. I have no decor sense. Actually, I really love my home.”
“If you love it, then you should keep it just this way,” she said, thinking, tedious.
"Did you get the home inspected yet?"
"This afternoon. The house needs updated electrical. It’s on a fuse box. Some of the plumbing needs to be replaced. And window repairs. The roof is in good shape."
"And?"
"And I re-negotiated, based on estimates from my inspector."
"Any word yet?"
"No. No word yet." They were silent for a few minutes, except for Peter's chopping. "But I'll take the house regardless. A couple of thousand dollars for repairs is worth the house."
“You know,” he said, washing the spinach, “I didn’t think we’d end up doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“This. Sitting. Talking. Eventually eating. I thought you’d probably change your mind and cancel. I talked to an old friend of mine last night. I told her about you. And how happy you’ve made me, just hanging out with you. I told her I didn’t think it would last, and she told me I needed more faith.”
Meredith twisted the stem of her wine glass.
“So I decided she was right. Then when Charlene came in, I thought you’d probably turf me.”
“I’d never do that. We had plans.”
“Yeah. I should have known that about you. I apologize. Anyway, I’m so happy that you’re here tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
Meredith was starting to feel uncomfortable, but she wasn’t sure why.
“I really like you, Meredith. You make me feel...” he searched for words, “like life is worth waking up to.”
“Oh please.” Meredith waved her hand dismissively.
“No, I mean it. I think of you, of kissing you the other night, and I want to get out of bed in the morning.”
“I’m not really over Ben. I miss him terribly and I only kissed you because I wanted to try to stop obsessing over him.”
Peter stopped crumbling goat cheese. Meredith felt her mouth drop open. She couldn’t believe the words had come out of her. She looked around the room, half expecting to see a little gremlin mimicking her in the corner.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know where that came from. You’re a really nice guy. But the timing is off a little. By a lot.”
Peter nodded. “Great. I love being called a nice guy.” He came and sat at the table. “If it wasn’t for Ben, would you date me then?”
Meredith lied. Peter wasn’t that different from her, after all. They both wanted something they couldn’t have. He wanted her and she wanted Ben.
Ben. The thought of him in Santa Fe, made her catch her breath. What in the world was she doing, sitting in Peter’s house having dinner, when Ben was still somewhere nearby, living his life away from her? “I’m sorry, Peter. I have to go.” She picked her purse up off the floor and stood. Peter rose with her.
“I’m sorry, Meredith. I didn’t mean to pressure you. Please, stay for dinner.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” A sense of urgency propelled her to the door. “I’m so sorry about dinner,” she said as she backed out of his house.
At home that night, she sat in her rocker, drinking tea. Mendra was curled on her lap. Happiness requires love, she thought. I’m full of love. I love Mendra, Kira, and Sarah. I’m growing to love Victor. I love my new home. Her chest tightened as she thought, I loved Ben and lost him. But she had loved. And she deserved love. And love was bringing her happiness, even without Ben.
At work the next day, Meredith went to Peter's office and shut the door. Unlike his house, his office was slick. It must be the company decorator, she thought.
Peter gave her a smile. “Did you do what you needed to do last night?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry for running out on you.” Her fingertips touched the back of his door.
“Do you want to sit?”
She shook her head. “I like you, Peter.”
He held up his hand. “Spare me any more Nice Guy speeches.”
“Okay. Sorry. I just wanted to explain that it’s not you. I just don’t feel for you the way you think you feel for me.”
“It’s not ‘think.’ I know how I feel.”
Meredith shook her head. “You only know who you think I am. Once you got to know me, you might be able to decide...”
“Meredith.” Peter pushed away from his chair. “It’s okay. You can’t solve this for me. Unrequited love happens.”
She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from saying more.
“So,” Peter's eyes looked at a point to the left of her head, “you and Ben back together?”
Meredith raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No.”
“Oh,” he said. “I don’t know why. I just thought that that’s where you were headed, last night. To find him.”
“Peter, I’m sorry…”
He raised his hand to stop her. “Got it. ‘Nuff said.”
Meredith fingered his door handle but she couldn’t leave just yet. “Are you going to fire me?”
“Why? So you can sue my ass off?” He laughed. “No, Meredith. Believe it or not, I’m not a complete slime ball.”
Meredith tried to smile, but she was too drained from the interaction. As she made her escape from his office, she was overcome with a deep sense of freedom.
Martha Torres called that afternoon. “You
must have a star over you. They’ve accepted your offer.”
“They did?”
“Yes. In my eight years as a realtor, I’ve never had a client find a house on her first outing. Your home inspection went like a charm, and now the owners aren’t even going to counter. This house must have been meant to be yours.”
“It was,” Meredith told her. I have the house. She bit her knuckle. Hanging up, she felt an almost overwhelming combination of excitement and dread. Everything was shifting underneath her feet. After fighting off her first reaction, which was to run down the hall and tell her news to Peter, she called Kira and Sarah and left messages for them both. “Hi, this is your friend Meredith, who is also now a homeowner! I got the house!”
That night, she went with Charlene to hear Brazilian flute music. Four men were on stage, three flutists and one percussionist. As the music swirled around her, Meredith sat back and relished the moment. She felt like the desert right after a rain storm: cool, clean, and about to sprout flowers. Everything was locking into place. Her life was starting to make sense.
The message light was flashing wildly when she arrived home. She counted the flashes—at least eight messages. Mendra sat a few feet away, meowing. As Meredith measured cat food into a bowl, she listened to the messages. All hang-ups. Weird. She’d thought for sure they were from Kira and Sarah. While she stood above Mendra, who was eating, the phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Meredith, it’s Kira.” She sounded upset.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Meredith asked, remembering suddenly that Kira had dinner plans with Jeremy that night. What more? she wondered.
Kira started sobbing. Meredith braced herself for the worst. She could only imagine that Jeremy was getting married again.
When Kira had gained some control, she blew her nose and said, “Jeremy’s got testicular cancer.”
“Testicular cancer.” She sighed in relief. “I think that’s very treatable, Kira. Lance Armstrong had it, and he still won the Tour de France.”
“They say his outcome is poor.” Kira was gaining a grim control.
Meredith shook her head. She felt the world around her go mute. “What? Why? It’s very treatable.”
“I guess he waited too long. He had a lump for a long time.” Her voice caught.
Meredith remembered Kira questioning Ben about tumors. Could earlier intervention have saved him from this prognosis? She ached for Kira, who must be feeling the agony of being right a hundredfold. “Oh, Kira!” she exclaimed. “Sit tight. I’m on my way over.”
Meredith grabbed a knapsack and threw in some clothes and her toothbrush. She poured extra food in Mendra’s bowl, checked her water, and headed out.
Meredith stayed at Kira's that night, and while Kira slept with clenched fists, she wandered through the darkened rooms, picturing Jeremy and Kira’s life together. She could see Jeremy cooking dinner while Kira set the table. Imagine the fights that sent each to a different corner of the house, scared and angry. And all the time, his bad cells were busy multiplying. They had almost gotten out of debt, but the spreading cancer took away their entire future.
Meredith found herself in the back room, by the spare phone. She picked it up and dialed Ben’s cell phone number. Ben answered on the third ring. She’d woken him.
“It’s Meredith.”
“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried.
“I’m at Kira's house. She’s asleep. Jeremy has testicular cancer. They’re saying it’s not treatable. Is that possible?”
Dead silence. She wondered if he was upset that she’d contacted him. She couldn’t believe it, but her worry for Kira was outweighing her pain at losing Ben. The realization was freeing. Maybe that pain would continue to shrink.
As the silence continued, her worry for Kira increased. She had been expecting Ben to say, “What? No. You don’t die from testicular cancer. Who saw him? Rawlings? He’s an idiot. Send him to Jacobs for a second opinion.”
When he finally spoke, what he actually said was, “Yes. I guess it could be. It’s very treatable but if he waited too long...I should have insisted he see a doctor. I could have talked to him myself.”
“I’ve already got one person here who’s sick with guilt. Don’t you go on me too,” she said.
After a minute, Ben spoke. “So she’s not doing well?”
“No, she’s not. She said that he's upbeat.” She realized how ridiculous that assessment was. “He’s probably putting up a front for her.” She was scared to say Kira's name, in case the primitive region of the brain that separated out meaningful words from mumbling clicked on her name from the living room and brought her back to consciousness.
“They’re not recommending radiation?”
“I don't know. I guess not. Or he declined? They don’t have much hope, it seems.”
“Shit. He should still get a second opinion, though.”
“Can you recommend anyone?”
“Elaine Chen.”
“Thank you, Ben. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
“Uh, ok. Goodnight, Meredith.” She cried a few quick tears when she hung up, but mostly she felt relief. She was going to survive their breakup. She was going to move on with her life and be ok. She felt a deep, overwhelming gratitude. She was scared to give thanks, though, in case the Gods saw the unevenness of her luck and Kira's and remedied it.
Armed with facts from her conversation with Ben, and some internet searching, Meredith sat down to breakfast with Kira with renewed hope. “There are a lot of new ways to treat testicular cancer." They’d both called in sick from work. Meredith had made coffee and Kira was curled up in a ball, clutching her mug like a squirrel with a nut.
Kira sighed. “Jeremy said it was metastasized and that he could get chemo but they weren’t very optimistic.”
“Has it spread?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t that what metastasized means?”
Meredith shook her head. “I don’t know either. Maybe. Is it too late to operate?”
Kira grimaced.
“If it saved his life?” Meredith persisted.
“Yes, I know, Meredith. Of course it’d be worth it. But not to Jeremy. He would rather die.”
“Well, that’s just crazy.”
“I’m not saying I agree with him. I’m just telling you what he would do.”
“Maybe you could go with him to his next appointment.”
“What for?”
“To help. Sometimes, with news like this, people don’t take in all the information. You could find out what’s going on and help him assimilate it all. Maybe he’s got other treatment options.”
“He’d never let me come.”
“Are you sure?” Meredith paused, unsure if she should go on. This morning there were no tears. Only painful looking red marks around bloodshot eyes. Kira was like a brittle ball, emanating a hardness that intimidated Meredith. “Are you sure?” she finally repeated.
Kira didn’t bother to reply.
“Don’t ask.” Meredith suggested. “Tell. Call and say, ‘I’m coming to your next appointment. When is it?’”
“I’m not his fucking wife anymore! I don’t need to live through his death. Next thing you know I’ll be pureeing his dinner and feeding it to him through a straw.”
Meredith was shocked.
“Oh, God.” Kira put down the mug and started to cry. “I can’t believe I said that.” She pulled her hair by the roots. “Damn. Damn.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to cry anymore. My eyes hurt so much already. God damn it.”
Meredith went to the freezer and wrapped some ice cubes in a paper towel. “Here, lay these on your eyes.” She searched the kitchen till she found a bottle of Advil and gave her two tablets. “Swallow these.”
“I’m so selfish!” Kira said as she held the ice to her face. “God. I can’t believe I’m resenting caring for him. My husband.”
“Just go with him to an appointment. For your sake as much as h
is. So you know what’s going on. You deserve to know. It doesn’t mean you’ll be his caretaker.”
“He’ll never let me come.”
“Don’t ask.”
Kira stood and went to the sofa and lay down. Meredith put a pot of water on the stove and searched out tea bags. She dumped ten into boiling water and took them out. The tea, she poured into a pitcher with ice. The tea bags she ran under cool water. Eight went into plastic baggies in the fridge. She brought the remaining two to Kira on the sofa. “Put these over your eyes. It’s probably a lie concocted by tea companies and fashion magazines, but it’s supposed to reduce swelling.”
While Kira drifted in and out of sleep, Meredith did some more internet searches and read novels from the bookcases that lined the walls. By mid-afternoon, Meredith was hungry. She went to the kitchen and made tomato and grilled cheese sandwiches. Kira had moved to a chair by the window and was staring outside. They ate in silence and then Meredith rose and brought the plates back to the kitchen. When she came back into the room, Kira stood and went to the phone.
After a minute, she said, “It's Kira. I’m coming to your next appointment. When is it?” She wrote the name of Jeremy’s oncologist in neat school mistress handwriting that seemed all wrong for recording the date and time of an appointment in the UNM Cancer Center.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kira went to work the next day. When Meredith arrived at her own desk there was a message from Martha Torres on voicemail. At first, it was difficult to digest the meaning of her words. Meredith couldn’t completely take in all the events that had happened lately in her life. Cancer. She shook the word out of her head and focused on Martha’s message. She had to replay it. The closing date was scheduled for Friday. Martha wanted to go over details. Cancer.
“Meredith? What cloud are you on?” Charlene was standing in her doorway.
“Oh, sorry.”
“I’ve been standing here, talking to you for a couple of minutes. Where were you?”
“There’s a lot of stuff going on. I’m just preoccupied.”
“So I see.” She came in and settled herself in a chair across from Meredith's desk. “What’s up?”
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