Being There (2 page)

I shove my phone into my purse and silence it because I would rather not talk to anyone at the moment. I turn on the ignition and rest my head on the steering wheel hoping for clarity or peace or something to take over, but I think the universe is in short supply. I just want quiet, but in the quiet all I can hear is Dr. Stone’s voice repeating everything from today so I turn on the radio and blare music from my iPod at a deafening level, hoping the noise of something upbeat and fun will distract me.
I need fun
. Flipping through numerous song titles, I settle on The Wombats,
Let’s Dance to Joy Division
because the lyrics seem depressing to me, but I love how upbeat it is. How can you not be happy listening to that song? I set it on repeat and listen to it while I make the twenty-minute drive home.

I arrive home to my two-bedroom condo, only to be reminded of the chicken I cooked for dinner last night because I forgot to take out the trash.
Fail number two today
. I throw my stuff on the hardwood floor with a thud as I make my way to remedy the smell. I should have cleaned the kitchen last night but I was so worried about the appointment that I took an anti-anxiety medicine and went right to bed.
Nice job there Cassi
. I make it a point to do a half-ass clean up of the area and pull out the bottle of wine that I opened last night. I know it’s only a matter of time before my parents call to find out how my appointment went. I’m not up for that conversation yet because quite frankly, I’d prefer keep my condition to myself, not because they don’t care, but because they do, and I know the concern and questions they’ll have and I have nothing to offer.

I grab a clean wine glass from the cabinet and pour myself a larger glass than I would have on a normal day, but hell, there is nothing
normal
about today, so why not? I’m just going to sit on my couch and mope anyway, so I might as well enjoy it as best as I can. I take the glass to the living room and have a seat on my overstuffed couch and try to make myself comfortable. But something is missing.

“Music. I need music,” I say aloud because, I admit, I like talking to myself; I think I’m good company.

With the radio on, I close my eyes for a moment and let the day’s events seep into me. It’s here that I will allow myself to feel something – while I’m
alone,
in the comfort of my own space. The solitude is calming and vexing at the same time so I pull out the papers that Dr. Stone sent me home with. Flipping through the pages I briefly look to see what I’m up against and decide to start at the beginning, hoping that maybe it will somehow calm me. It lists the procedures, treatment options, support groups and too many other things to look at. I absent-mindedly riffle through the remaining pages at random seeing various words leap off the pages and I panic.
Surgery. Chemo. Radiation
.

I throw the papers across the room, as if they are causing me pain, and let the despair consume every part of me. The tears are streaming down my face as I sob and I allow myself to be angry as hell because this is a crap hand I’ve been dealt. I hug my knees to my chest and bury my head trying to rationalize how this could happen, but there are no answers, which pisses me off more
.
I feel completely bereft searching inside for some semblance of justification for the situation I seem to find myself in. I look around my condo and spot the cross that normally centers me, but right now, it betrays me.

I down my glass of wine with haste before getting up to grab the remaining bottle and pour another glass. I don’t care that I’ll have a headache later because if it’s not the wine, it’ll be from the tears, so what does it matter. I will cry until I have nothing left in me to cry because the chaos, that is my life, leaves me in a state of uncertainty and I hate it. I need order, I need reasons and answer
s and after weeks of waiting for answers, I wish I had another week of
not
knowing.

I could sit here all night and feel sorry for myself, but I’m thankful that I’m beginning to feel numb. When exhaustion takes over, I lie down on the couch and glance at the now empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. I pathetically take note of how empty I feel as well. The radio is playing a soft song as I hug my favorite novelty Elvis pillow to my chest and rest my eyes because I don’t want to think anymore.

My outburst was cathartic, but I would have been mortified if anyone else had seen it. I needed it and I suppose I needed the sleep that followed. I pull out my phone to see that I have slept the last hour and have missed calls and texts that I need to answer to.
Great
. I start to scroll through them noticing they are all from mom and Nev, which means they’re freaking out.

4:28 p.m. - Nev: Thanks for calling back!

4:41 p.m. - Nev: Hello?

4:47 p.m. - Nev: Okay, now I’m pissed

5:00 p.m. - Nev: Call me! Now!

5:08 p.m. - Nev: I’m coming over

I dial her number in a hurry hoping to catch her before she gets to my place. Lord knows she’ll bang on my door and anyone else’s until she gets a response.

“What the hell took you so long? I was getting worried,” she spats at me, answering on the first ring.

“Where are you?” I ask before answering her questions because I’m worried that she’s on her way and I don’t want her to see me, yet, because she will know something is up the moment she looks at me.

I hear some clattering noises in the background before she answers me, “I was just heading out the door to your place. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say with feigned exhaustion, “I got home from work and fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep,” she repeats incredulously. I never rest, and she knows this. But she also knows that I have been working nonstop, so I’m sure she won’t think anything more of it.

“It’s been a long day, Mr. Marx gave me Janet’s work to do, and now I am just trying to stay afloat.” At least
that
wasn’t a lie.

“Girl, you need to say
no
every once in a while. And all I know is, you better be done with your work before this weekend because you are not bringing that shit to the house.” She can be so demanding sometimes, but I am in total agreement. I have no desire to bring work with me this weekend.

“Don’t worry,” I start out, “I’m really looking forward to the trip.”

She’s silent for a moment, no doubt analyzing my response. “Wow, I thought I was going to have drag you on this trip kicking and screaming,” she teases.

“Whatever,” I drag out, “so maybe in the past you’ve had to do some convincing, but I need this trip, alright?  Just call it the
new
me because I’m going to go and have a great time, and maybe I’ll try something I haven’t done before.” Before she can respond I add in exaggerated excitement, “Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone when we go out on Saturday.”

“About that,” she pauses, “yes, we are going to go out to meet up with everyone, but I’m bringing Luke,” she sounds hesitant to continue. I’ve heard her mention his name a few times, but have yet to actually meet him.

“Okay-,” I drag out, “are you trying to tell me something? Are you going up with him? Do I need to drive myself?” I ask in quick succession.

“No, of course not, it’s just, well,” she sounds unsure, “he’s bringing a friend.” Before I can interject anything, she is quick to explain, “But I promise, this is
not
a set up! They were going on their own trip, and I just kinda invited them along with us?” Her voice got annoyingly high as though she is asking my permission.

I stay silent, knowing she is anxious as to what I might say. “Alrighty then, so we’ll meet them there.”

“That’s it? You’re not mad?” I can tell from her sigh she is relieved and shocked that I don’t seem to be giving her shit about it. Normally I would, but I just don’t have the energy to fight her right now.

“Should I be mad? Is there something I should know about this guy?”

“No, not at all, I was just afraid you were going to give me shit about it,” she admits sounding relieved.

“Oh, I am going to give you shit, because you have some explaining to do, Nevaeh Evans. Like, why have I not met him yet? How did you meet? And a slew of others.” I add in warning, “And don’t think that I’m not going to interrogate him the moment I have a chance!”

She lets out a groan, indicating that our conversation is ending, “I’m sure he will have no problem answering your questions, but right now, I gotta go. I’m supposed to meet him at six and I still haven’t finished my hair.”

“Details lady! I want details.
Before
the trip, preferably,” I warn.

She just laughs because it’s rare that I get to question her about someone she’s dating. Payback is a bitch. “I’ll call you later. Love you,” she shouts as she hangs up.

I’m so grateful to have Nevaeh in my life. She has been the sister I never had and always wanted. But I am curious about the guy she’s dating because she hasn’t told me much about him. She’s not exactly the conservative type, so I wonder if he is straight-laced or a free spirit like her. Whatever he’s like, I hope he doesn’t try to change her like Charlie did. He was such a douche, acting like she was perfect until it mattered to him and he begged her to “tone it down,” around his coworkers. There’s nothing to tone down; she is perfect just as she is. I love her crazy sense of style, unique tattoos and ever-changing hair color. Those things may change, but the things that matter, like her loyalty, kindness and beauty always stay the same. Charlie never deserved her, so I hope this Luke is a good guy.

I glance one last time to check the time noting that it’s as good a time as any to make the phone call to mom and dad. I’m sure I’m going to get an earful from her about everything, but I just wanted to avoid it a little longer. I exhale and prepare for the conversation that’s about to happen.

“Here goes nothing,” I say to myself before dialing the number.

Two hours later, I am finally off the phone with mom. That was the hardest phone call I have ever had to make. She cried. I knew she would, which in turn made me cry. But it’s not like I wasn’t having that problem on my own anyway. Dad was pretty composed, which is pretty shocking because he is the first to show his feelings. But I guess he had to “man up” for mom, and I’m so glad he did because she needs him to be strong right now.

It took quite a bit of convincing on my part to keep mom from boarding the first flight to come out and be with me. I told her that, not only is there nothing left to do right now, but I am also going to be out of town this weekend anyway. I assured her I would let her know as soon as I have them scheduled so she could make arrangements. Truth be told, I’m going to
need
to have her there with me.

“You need to get a second opinion,” she instructed me. “These doctors don’t know everything –“

“Mom,” I cut her off before her rant continues, “I have my second opinion, and I’m trying to accept it, and I need you to accept it too. But hear me when I tell you, I’m going to be okay. I know it.”

For once, I hate being alone. My condo isn’t exactly huge, but I feel lost anyway and that nap I took earlier has left me with a second wind. I grab a glass and another bottle of wine and then put away the pillow from my earlier meltdown before shutting off all the lights and heading upstairs to my bedroom. I should clean up the mess I left, but since I don’t care to, I just decide to leave it. It’ll all be waiting for me in the morning. I take the stairs two at a time and flip the switch at the top of the landing before entering my bedroom. My large bed is normally a source of solace for me, but rather than lose myself in it, I drop to the floor and stick my hand under my bed, feeling around for the box that I know lies beneath. This box stays hidden from everyone, but it’s there and I only use it when I need a boost. Dragging my hand over one box and then another, I feel the indentations of the one I’m looking for and pull it out to set it on my lap.

I haven’t looked in this box since I moved into this condo two years ago and even then, I pulled
it out only a few times. Since I have nothing better to do, I throw the large box on top of my bed and empty the contents haphazardly. Images slide across my purple and black floral comforter bringing a genuine smile to my face. These are my past; everything that I have done is somehow contained in one eighteen by twelve inch box.

I choose one to look at and remember well the moment that is captured. It’s Nev and me before the homecoming game senior year. We had no desire to wear the stupid mums or dress up, so instead we opted to paint our faces in school spirit colors, red and black. We were sticking our tongues out at the yearbook photographer, whom we were able to get a copy from. I think we ended up leaving the game early and meeting up with a few other friends who didn’t want to deal with the homecoming hoopla either, and just hung out. We found out later that night that my best friend Drew won the junior court, and I felt like the worst friend ever.

The next picture I pull out makes me laugh outright, because it’s another of Nev and me, only this time Drew is with us. The three of us had gone to a concert and Nev made us stick around until the very end in hopes of seeing the band. She had a huge crush on the lead singer and Drew kept teasing her that she was wasting her time, when lo and behold the guy walks past us and she started screaming like a ten-year-old girl seeing a boy-bander for the first time. The guy was so freaked out that when he stopped to see what was going on, Nev rushed him and begged for a picture. He obliged, probably out of fear, and the look on her face is priceless, the epitome of someone who just proved Drew wrong. I was in complete bliss because I was with my two favorite people acting like fools. I grab my iPhone and take a snapshot of that image to post on Facebook with a random post.