Going Through the Change

by Samantha Bryant

  hen Jessica woke the next morning, hovering between the ceiling and her bed, she decided it was time to call Ms. Liu. Regardless of any misgivings she might have about the strangeness of the woman herself, there was no one else she could call on for help.

  Rolling around like an astronaut, she tumbled in mid air until she managed to work herself over to the closet and then down to the floor. She grabbed the plush pile of the carpet with her fingers and tugged herself forward one handful at a time, her legs floating above her. Her arms were quaking from the effort by the time she crawled back to the bedside table where she’d left her weights.

  Clasping on her ankle weights, Jessica blessed herself for insisting that Nathan sleep in the guest room the night before. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and he had agreed, after some cajoling, to deliver the boys to preschool and let her sleep in.

  Nathan was still avoiding the whole subject of how he’d gotten hurt. Every time she tried to bring it up, he got this look on his face, and all the color washed out of him until he looked like a grimacing corpse. On the upside, this made him more amenable to handling some of the day-to-day household tasks, especially if those tasks involved not being at home. She had no idea what it was going to mean in the long run. He was going to have to face up to her situation sooner or later. They couldn’t keep living like this.

  Avoidance was becoming Nathan’s M.O., though. During the cancer year, she’d been through the biopsy and testing and had her surgery scheduled before he would even say the C word. He kept calling her cancer by euphemisms like “you know” or “the problem.” Jessica understood why he might want to avoid talking about it in front of their boys. But when they were alone?

  She had been so frustrated with him. All her so-called friends, who were really his friends from work and business contacts or the wives of those contacts, kept talking about how lucky she was to have a man like Nathan. Jessica didn’t feel lucky, but she thought she could see why they would think so, observing from the outside.

  On the surface, Nathan did seem really supportive. He pushed his way through hospital bureaucracy to make sure she got the best care. Then he bragged about it at cocktail parties, deaf to the bullying disrespect to the hospital staff and the needs of other patients the story portrayed. He arranged for his company to sponsor cancer related charity events and never missed an opportunity to let people know his wife was fighting the disease. He even teared up, giving the speech at the big charity ball he had arranged.

  In big, abstract, public ways, Nathan offered a lot of support, and that’s what these women saw when they told Jessica she was fortunate. But in private? When she was fighting to keep down Jell-O and crying over the clumps of her hair coming out in the brush, he had disappeared into the woodwork. Once, he had literally backed out of the bathroom rather than help soothe her. She had seen him in the mirror. Later, they’d both pretended he’d not been there at all.

  In a way, it felt like her cancer had become part of him. Not that he had taken on the sickness itself, but he had somehow taken on the public sympathy. The very personal loss of her ovaries and all the implications to her health and well-being, even the emotional toll; all of this had been co-opted by Nathan, made into part of his networking persona. It felt as flat and insincere as the flair waiters were required to wear at party restaurants. It didn’t really reveal anything of the heart. Jessica felt empty, even invisible.

  She’d always known Nathan was a little self-absorbed. It was part of what made him so successful: the confidence and assurance he exuded. People listened when he spoke. Jessica had liked being a partner to that, when she had been a partner. It had felt like, together, they could rule the world, or at least the boardroom. Once upon a time, they had plotted together how best to work the room and get the grunts, as they called them, to do what they wanted. Jessica had been good at it, too. She wasn’t without her own charms and ability to influence people. She had qualms from time to time about the manipulative maneuvers, but trusted the work was important and that success would give them the opportunity to do a lot of good in the world.

  But once she had fallen ill, that all ended. He hadn’t even told her about the year-end party last winter. He had just donned his suit and left. True, Jessica had still been a little weak, but she could have handled sitting at a banquet and listening to speeches. It stung that he didn’t even ask. She’d been his partner, but he had left her behind when life had made her unable to keep up. Now that she was able to run again, she found she wasn’t even invited to the race.

  Thank God she had her mother. Eva Roark was a realist and a fighter. She’d come through her sudden widowhood with grace and calm, and she’d been fully confident her daughter could do the same with cancer. “My daughter, beaten by the uncontrolled division of abnormal cells? I think not!”

  Eva had found a support group for family members and sought advice for how best to help her daughter. She’d hired the temporary nanny and arranged for the preschool and day care programs her boys would need. She’d been the one to talk to Frankie when he realized his mother was sick. They’d looked at books together about cancer and about women’s bodies. Jessica remembered the relief on Frankie’s face when he’d understood Jessica’s cancer had been caught at Stage I. “That’s good, right?” he’d asked. Yes, that had been good.

  She owed it to her mother to figure this out. As for Nathan, well, she’d figure that out another day.

  Weights in place, Jessica sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, running over her day in her head. It was surprisingly empty. She checked the clock and was not that surprised to find out it was ten-thirty. She’d obviously needed the extra rest. It was still early enough to see Ms. Liu and probably pick up the boys herself. She picked up her phone and texted her mother, who quickly responded that she could pick up the boys so Jessica didn’t have to rush her visit with Cindy. “I hope she can help, darling,” was all she said. She didn’t push for information, trusting, as always, that her daughter would share when she was ready. Jessica pushed down the guilt of not yet having told her mother what was wrong, telling herself she was protecting her from unnecessary worry, that it was better to tell her when she understood it better herself.

  Jessica texted her thanks and padded to the bathroom, smoothing the tufted carpet back down with her feet and picking up her soft pink track suit on the way. She always wore soft stretchy clothes when she had to see a doctor. It had become a habit when she’d gone through her cancer treatments. If you avoided tight, restrictive garments and didn’t wear any metal, sometimes, the doctors could let you wear normal clothing while they worked. She didn’t know what kinds of tests Ms. Liu might have in mind, but figured it was better to be prepared for anything.

  Once downstairs, Jessica stood in front of the refrigerator for a long time, thinking. Everything in the fridge was pre-packaged and already prepared. She grabbed a peeled, boiled egg from its grocery store package and a container of strawberry yogurt, taking them to the dining room table with her and setting them next to her iPad. Then she went back to the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea.

  While she waited for the few minutes it took to steep, she called Ms. Liu, who sounded delighted to hear from her. They agreed to meet at twelve-thirty at Ms. Liu’s house. Ms. Liu said she’d have lunch for them. Jessica settled with her breakfast and started reading her e-mail and checking in on the socials, feeling good that she was taking action to solve her problem.

  At a quarter past noon, Jessica found her way to Ms. Liu’s house. It was on a pleasant street in an older neighborhood. The houses probably weren’t that old, but compared to Jessica’s neighborhood, where everything still had sales stickers on it, it felt old. At least the trees were fully grown in. You got the feeling that more than one generation had grown up here.

  Slowing to peer at the house numbers, Jessica remembered Leonel had said he was Ms. Liu’s neighbor. She wondered which of the houses belonged to him and David. She’d had a wonderful day with Leonel t
he day before. Things felt so easy with him. It was good to have a friend, a real one. The relaxed, natural, open conversation she had with Leonel contrasted strongly with the shallow, image-conscious conversations she had held with so many wives of Nathan’s co-workers and moms of other boys that knew her boys.

  She liked those women, but it wasn’t the same as having a friend who was drawn to you for yourself rather than thrown in with you by circumstance. Women she had grown up with were still in her social circles, but they weren’t close enough to matter when the chips were down. They weren’t the kind of women she could call to keep her company at the hospital or to talk heart to heart about her worries about her family and her marriage.

  Leonel cared about her. It was strange to feel so close to someone she had so recently met, but she did. She had talked with Leonel more freely than she had talked with anyone in years. Leonel had seemed to enjoy talking with her, too. Jessica felt like he had been lonely recently, and he needed a new friend as badly as she did.

  She’d been surprised to learn David and Leonel had raised three daughters. The oldest was twenty-five, only a few years younger than Jessica herself. She hadn’t realized it was possible for a gay couple to adopt so long ago. She thought that was a much more recent development. Leonel talked of his daughters with a mix of exasperation and admiration that was a pleasure to listen to. He glowed with pride, showing pictures of his five grandchildren. Jessica hoped she could be half the parent he was.

  His relationship with David was obviously very strong as well. She hadn’t seen them together since the day of the ladder incident, but she could feel that they were strong in their faith in each other. They definitely had each other’s backs.

  Leonel didn’t complain, but Jessica gathered that there had recently been some tough times, and they were getting through it. Leonel so obviously loved David and cherished him. Jessica wished she felt cherished by her husband in that way. She tried to have faith that they were going through a tough time right now and things would get better. Watching Leonel and David, though, she wondered if her own marriage had that kind of strength. Comparing her marriage to theirs seemed like comparing a raspberry bush to an oak tree.

  Parking in front of Ms. Liu’s house, Jessica sat with her hands on the wheel, thinking. She should sit in the car and wait. It would be rude to arrive so early. She pulled out her phone to play with and looked out the window at the house.

  Ms. Liu’s house was surrounded by a variety of trees. From her car, Jessica could only make out a corner of the porch and an upstairs window, but it looked like the house was the same style as many others on the street: one story, in that bungalow sort of shape that had been popular in the fifties. There was a large garden area in the front yard. Everything in the garden was very tall and had a wild and unkempt look that made Jessica nervous. The HOA would never allow such a garden in Hollow Oaks. Jessica wondered if it would be rude to offer Ms. Liu the contact information of her gardening company. They weren’t that expensive and kept things really nice.

  As she sat waiting, Jessica grew more anxious. She had a bad feeling. It was vague, but nagging, this little voice telling her not to go inside. She chided herself for being xenophobic and ridiculous. Ms. Liu had been her mother’s friend as long as she could remember. She had been nothing but kind and solicitous. There was no reason to think ill of her.

  Tired of stalling, Jessica stepped out of Nathan’s car and let herself in through the old-fashioned wrought-iron gate. Expecting it to stick, she pulled it harder than necessary, and it bounced against the fence and nearly smacked her in the shoulder on the way back. Calm down, Jessica told herself again.

  As she stepped into the yard, she began to hear music. It was something bold and classical. There was a vocalist, but Jessica couldn’t understand what she was singing. It grew louder as she approached the door, and billowed out of the house when Ms. Liu answered. Ms. Liu gestured for her to come in and then ran to the stereo to turn it down. “Sorry. I listen to it loud when I am alone. Come in! Come in!”

  Jessica stepped into the dark living room. She had to stop and wait for her eyes to adjust. “Thanks for seeing me, Ms. Liu.”

  “Call me Cindy, please. There’s no need to be so formal. Come on into the kitchen. I’ve made us some sandwiches. Would you like some tea?” Ms. Liu talked very quickly and almost fluttered as she moved. She seemed nervous, like Jessica’s good opinion mattered a great deal. Knowing Ms. Liu was nervous too made Jessica feel a little better. Maybe it was just that they’d never dealt with each other this way before. Maybe all her bad feelings could be chalked up to discomfort and embarrassment.

  Relaxing a little, Jessica followed where Ms. Liu had gone and sat down at the diner style table, with a scarred, red Formica top and a silver band around the outer edge. The band had come unglued on one side and stuck up like a bad haircut. Jessica’s grandmother had owned a similar table, with little chairs with fluffy cushions that made a whoosh sound when you sat on them. Ms. Liu’s chairs did not match the table. They were hardwood and un-cushioned. They were also a little tall. Jessica found that surprising, given that Ms. Liu was only an inch or two taller than her. She’d have thought such a small woman living alone would have small furniture.

  Ms. Liu set a plate of sandwiches on the table next to a tea set and took the seat opposite Jessica. She immediately picked up the small stone pot and poured them both a cup of tea. It was the licorice and ginseng smelling tea that Jessica had been drinking. It was nice of Ms. Liu to serve her favorite. Jessica pulled a sandwich off the platter and held it in her hand. Ms. Liu had neglected to provide any plates to set it down on, so she just held it in her hand between bites. It was peanut butter and jelly.

  Cindy immediately apologized for the sandwiches. “I planned to make a nice chicken salad, but found that I don’t have a thing in the house. Living alone, I often forget to grocery shop. It’s easy just to pick something up, you know.”

  Jessica nodded, sympathetically. She knew her own refrigerator was often bare or stocked with prepackaged kid-pleasing foods only. She didn’t have half the excuse Ms. Liu did, given that she was at home most days, but she guessed she was one of those women with no interest in cooking. It didn’t come automatically with the kitchen, after all.

  Ms. Liu was a fast eater and downed her sandwich in a few quick bites. While Jessica was still chewing, Ms. Liu pulled out a small computer and began clicking around. “Do you mind if I ask some questions while you eat?”

  Jessica nodded, her mouth glued shut with peanut butter. She set her half-eaten sandwich on the edge of the platter and picked up her tea. She wasn’t that hungry, anyway. “Shoot!”

  Ms. Liu ran through a barrage of questions. Some of it seemed unrelated at first. She asked about Jessica’s sleeping and eating patterns. She examined Jessica’s tongue and announced that it was “Pinkish with a thin white coating. Normal.” She’d sounded disappointed.

  She asked about Jessica’s bowel movements. She took her pulse and said it was “wiry” and wondered if that was its usual state. She asked about her relationship with Nathan and the boys, how often she was having sex, and about her cancer treatments. She wanted to know how recent her last x-ray was and what her most recent levels of CA-125 were. It wasn’t like any other doctor’s appointment Jessica had ever been to. Though Jessica felt embarrassed by some of the questions, Ms. Liu took every answer in stride, and Jessica began to feel it was impossible to surprise her.

  She wanted the exact details of what Jessica had been doing in the hours before the first incident, even what she had been watching on television and what position she had been sitting in. She asked a lot of questions about what had changed when she went from floating to falling the day of Nathan’s accident.

  Jessica told her everything she could think of. She described the tickling sensation in her belly, the difficulty of moving herself through the air with any speed or directional control, the feeling that she would just keep on floating h
igher and higher if she ran into no barriers to stop her. She talked about the grocery store incident and waking up floating above her bed that morning. She showed Ms. Liu the weights she had taken to wearing throughout her waking hours, just in case.

  Ms. Liu typed away on her small computer as she listened, making small, excited sounds, and talking to herself as she typed. “Eructation associated with loss of buoyancy.”

  Jessica translated in her head. Burping associated with falling. Interesting. She hadn’t thought of that, but, yes, burping did seem to happen as she came back to earth. Maybe she was like a balloon and was filling up with something lighter than air. It was ridiculous, but it kind of made sense. So, where was this lighter-than-air gas coming from? It wasn’t like she was sitting around taking hits off a helium tank.

  “I’d like to analyze your breath,” Ms. Liu announced. She flung back her chair and scurried out of the room. She came back with a little, gray box with a hard plastic straw sticking out of the side. Jessica recognized it as some kind of breathalyzer, though it looked more complex than any device she’d ever seen at a roadside check. Ms. Liu punched some buttons on it and held it out to Jessica. “Please breathe into the straw.”

  Jessica did as she was asked, and Ms. Liu grabbed the machine when it beeped, clicking some more buttons. The machine rolled out a piece of paper like a cash register receipt. Ms. Liu read the list quickly, muttering. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Again, she sounded disappointed.

  She looked sharply at Jessica. “We’ll need to get a reading when you are floating, to see what’s different.”

  Jessica looked at the small red clock above the sink. It was nearly three o’clock. “I’m going to have to go, Ms. Liu. I have to pick up my boys. Maybe we can talk again tomorrow?” There was no need to tell Ms. Liu that her mother was going to pick up the children. She could use the time-honored approach of letting her children help her make a graceful exit. Jessica stood and picked up her purse. She couldn’t explain it, but she had a strong feeling it would be a mistake to go down to the lab.