Lightning (12 page)

“How soon do you really think I'll be able to go back to work?” she asked the doctor honestly.

“Possibly in two or three weeks, depending on how you do. And then of course it'll depend on how you do with the chemo. We'd be starting that approximately four weeks after surgery. Some women do very well, others have more problems.” To him it was already a foregone conclusion. She had cancer, the breast was coming off, and she was going to have chemo. Maybe Sam was right and it was just a factory that lopped off boobs to pay the rent, but it was hard to believe that. From what Peter Herman said, it was a lot easier to believe she had a serious problem.

He wanted her to go to the hospital that weekend for blood tests and a chest X ray, and they had discussed the impossibility of her giving her own blood on such short notice. But he had told her that even radical mastectomies rarely required transfusions, and if need be, after the surgery, he would call her office to organize donor-specific blood, and other than that, there was nothing left to say, until Monday. He told her that he wanted to hear from her over the weekend if she discovered she wasn't pregnant, and she agreed to call him. And eventually, she left his office feeling wooden.

She went back to her office for the rest of the afternoon, and home to Annabelle and Sam for dinner that night, and only Carmen noticed how quiet and withdrawn she was. Alex didn't say anything to Sam about her visit to Dr. Herman, until later that night, but when she did, he was already half asleep, and he didn't even answer her, as she explained what the doctor had said to her. And when she looked over at Sam again, he was snoring softly.

She cleared her desk on Friday morning before noon, and Brock came by to pick up some files, and wish her luck the following week.

“I hope whatever it is works out, the way you want it.” He suspected what it might be, he had heard the word “biopsy” in one of her conversations. It was a word that struck fear in his heart, but he hoped that hers wouldn't be serious, and that she'd be back in the office quickly. She said a hasty good-bye to him, and then gave Liz her final instructions. She said she'd be calling in for messages, and she could send work to the house in a few days, if Alex wasn't back yet.

“Take care of yourself,” Liz said quietly, and then hugged her as Alex fought back tears, and then turned away so Liz wouldn't see them.

“You take care too, Liz. I'll see you soon,” she said, exuding a confidence she didn't feel, and then she cried all the way uptown in a cab, to pick up Annabelle at school. It was Friday and they had ballet to go to.

She took Annabelle out to lunch at Serendipity, and then they went straight to Miss Tilly's. Annabelle had never been happier. She was pleased that Alex was around again, and not “busy with the judge” anymore. Annabelle told her in no uncertain terms, over a hot fudge sundae, that she really didn't like that.

“I'll try not to do it more often than I have to.” Alex hadn't said anything to her about her trip to the hospital on Monday, and on Saturday she tried to talk to Sam about what they should say to her about it. She thought a business trip was the best idea, explaining that she was going to the hospital would be much too threatening.

“Don't even think of it,” Sam said, looking annoyed at her, “you'll be back by that afternoon, for heaven's sake.” As he said it, he looked edgy and sounded angry.

“I might not be,” she said quietly, upset that he was continuing to refuse to face the problem. He was clinging to denial. “I could end up there for a week if they do a mastectomy,” she said, trying to force herself, as well as Sam, to accept it, but he refused to hear it.

“Will you stop it? You're driving me crazy. What is this? Do you want sympathy, or what?” She had never seen him quite so frantic. It was as though she had touched a nerve, and she wondered suddenly if his anxiety had anything to do with his own memories about his mother. But whatever his reasons for avoiding her, he was making Alex even more nervous.

“Actually,” she finally turned on him, angry for the first time since it had all happened, “I want some support from you. This crazy routine of refusing to believe anything is happening isn't making it easier for me. Has it ever occurred to you that I need your help with this? This isn't easy for me. I might lose a breast in two days, and you're insisting it couldn't happen.” Tears filled her eyes as she said it.

“Nothing's going to happen,” he said gruffly, and then turned away to hide his own tears. But he never spoke of it to her again, and by Sunday she understood that he wasn't going to. He couldn't. It scared him too much, it was all too reminiscent of his own mother. But whatever the reason, it left Alex with no support at all. She had plenty of acquaintances, and some friends she knew well, but she seldom saw them, except the ones she worked with. She never had time to see friends, she was always working. Sam was her best friend, and right now he just couldn't face the threat of what could be happening to her, or make himself help her. And she was embarrassed to call anyone else. “Hi …this is Alex Parker, and I'm having a breast biopsy tomorrow, want to come by? …actually, I might even be having a mastectomy, if it turns out to be a malignancy, but Sam says we're really just doing it to buy the doctor a Mercedes …anything for a good cause.” It was too hard for her to call anyone, harder still to admit that Sam was letting her down. But he was. Terribly. And that night she explained to Annabelle that in the morning she had to go away for a few days on business. Annabelle looked disappointed but she said she understood, and Alex promised to call her, and told her that Daddy would take good care of her, and she had to fight back tears as she said it. Annabelle hugged her tight and told her how much she would miss her, which made it even harder for Alex.

“Will you be back in time for Miss Tilly's on Friday?” she asked with huge green eyes, as Alex fought to maintain her composure.

“I'll try, sweetheart, I promise,” she said hoarsely, clinging to her little girl and praying nothing terrible would happen. Maybe Dr. Herman was wrong, and she'd be lucky. Being with Annabelle made her feel so vulnerable and so frightened. “Will you be a good girl and have a nice time with Daddy and Carmen? I'm really going to miss you.” More than she'd ever know, Alex thought, choking on tears, but she was doing this to save her life, both the biopsy and whatever came later. She wanted to be there for Annabelle for a long time. Forever.

“Why are you going, Mommy?” Annabelle asked sadly. It was as though she sensed that there was more than Alex was saying.

“Because I have to. For work.” But even to her own ears, she didn't sound convincing.

“You work too much,” Annabelle said softly. “I'll take care of you when I'm big, Mommy. I promise.” She was so sweet, and Alex didn't want to leave her. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving her the next morning and she clung to her for a long time before finally turning off the light, and going to make dinner for herself and Sam.

But she was so nervous, she was nauseous. All she could think of was what she was about to go through. And Sam stayed well away from the subject all through dinner. He went to read some reports afterwards and Alex went back to check on Annabelle. She lay next to the sleeping child for a little while, she just wanted to feel her curls against her cheek, and feel her breathing softly before she left her. And then she stood watching her from the doorway. She looked like a little angel, asleep in her bed, and Alex walked back into her own bedroom, praying for a miracle at the hospital the next morning. All she wanted was her life, even if it cost her a breast to keep it.

Sam was asleep in front of the TV when she slipped into their bed. He had had a hard week too, with a large group of Arab investors visiting from Saudi. But he had scarcely said a word, and certainly not a kind or encouraging one, to Alex about the morning. It was impossible not to be angry at him. She lay next to him for an hour, wanting to talk to him, but when he finally stirred, he just pulled off his jeans and his T-shirt, and slipped into bed, without really waking.

“Sam? …” she said softly, wanting to wake him, to talk to him, to be near him, even to make love to him, but he was a million miles away now, and oblivious to her problem.

“Hmmm …?”

“Are you sleeping?” It was obvious that he was, but she didn't want him to. But he was beyond rousing. “I love you,” she said, as she lay looking at him. But he didn't hear her. He didn't hear anything. He was far away, in his own world. Too much so to help his wife, or to accept what was happening to her. He was just too afraid to deal with it, and she knew that. But she had never felt as lonely in her life. In his own way, he had deserted her completely.

And when she went to the bathroom before she went to sleep, she discovered what she had prayed wouldn't happen. She had gotten her period, in spite of their attempts two weeks before, and the hormones she had taken. There would be only a biopsy, and possibly surgery. There would be no baby.

Chapter 5

A
lex woke at six the next day, and prowled around the house for a little while, wishing it were a different morning. She started a pot of coffee for Sam, set out the breakfast things, and looked at Annabelle, sleeping soundly. Sam was still asleep too, and it was so odd looking at both of them, knowing she'd be gone soon, for a few hours, or a few days, to win or lose a battle that could take her away from them forever. It was unthinkable, as she stood staring into Annabelle's room. How could she ever leave her little girl? What would happen to them? She couldn't begin to fathom what was about to happen to her that morning.

She was careful not to eat or drink anything, although she longed for a cup of coffee, and as she brushed her teeth, she suddenly found she had to fight back tears. There was an overwhelming urge to run away, to hide from all of it, but there was no hiding now from the treachery of her own body. Instead, she stood up and looked at herself, with tears running down her cheeks, her toothbrush in her hand, as she stared into the mirror. She set the toothbrush down and dropped the straps on her nightgown. The silky gown fell easily to the floor without a sound, and she stood looking at herself, the small firm breasts that she had always taken for granted. The left was a fraction larger than the right, and she remembered suddenly with a smile that Annabelle had always preferred it to the other when she nursed her. She couldn't help but appreciate the symmetry of her breasts, and the long, graceful lines of her body. She had long legs, a small waist, she had always had a good figure and never thought much about it. And what would happen now? Who would she be, if she lost the breast today? Would she be someone else? Would she be so hideously deformed that Sam would no longer want her? She had wanted to talk about it with him, to hear him say that he didn't care if she had one breast or two. She needed to hear the words, but he hadn't been able to face even the idea of it, and he had told her all week that nothing was wrong with her and she was being morbid.

And now, she stood looking at herself, and she cried as she realized what might happen to her. She couldn't even imagine it. A breast was a small price to pay for a life, if it came to that, but she didn't want to lose it either. She didn't want to be deformed, or look like a man, or have reconstructive surgery. She didn't want any of it. And most of all, she didn't want to lose her breast, or have cancer.

“Hi,” Sam said sleepily, as he walked past her to the shower. She hadn't seen him come in, and he didn't seem to notice that she was crying. She turned away from him self-consciously, as though there were already something ugly about her, and covered herself with a towel. “You're up early.” What a surprise. Fancy that! The way he said it made her want to hit him. All the understanding he had ever had for her seemed to have vanished in less than two weeks of total denial.

“I'm having surgery today,” she reminded him in a constricted voice, as he turned on the shower.

“You're having a biopsy. Let's not get too dramatic.”

“When are you going to wake up?” she snapped at him. “When are you going to face this thing? After I lose the breast, or not even then? Is this so goddamn threatening that you can't reach out to me for a single moment?” He needed to hear it from her, needed to know how badly he was letting her down, but he couldn't face that either. He stepped into the shower without looking at her, and said something she couldn't hear as she stared at him in renewed amazement. She took two long steps over to him, and yanked back the shower curtain, until they were both soaking wet and she looked at him in complete fury. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said you're being melodramatic.” He looked both embarrassed and annoyed at her, as she stood there looking very wet and very beautiful and his body acknowledged her with an erection. But they hadn't made love once since she'd had the results of the mammogram. They had done nothing at all since “blue day.” First, she'd had the trial, and now she was dealing with the trauma of possibly having cancer. And he had made no overtures to her either. He was trying to avoid her.

“I think you're being a sonofabitch, Sam Parker. I don't
give
a damn if you're having trouble coping with this, so am I. And it's happening to me, not you. You could at least be there for me. Is that so much to ask? Is that so difficult for you, Mr. Important, Mr. Venture Capitalist, Mr. So Fucking Scared He Can't Face What's Happening?” She was so furious she wanted to hit him, but he pulled the shower curtain away from her, and turned to continue his shower.

“Why don't you go easy on both of us, Al? It'll all be over by this afternoon, and you'll feel a lot better.” They both knew that the Serophene she'd taken four weeks before didn't help her ability to cope, or her disposition, but this was also not about hormones. This was about real life, and a threat to her very survival and existence. It was a threat to everything she was, her health, her life, her looks, her femininity, even her ability to have children. What else was there? Many things perhaps, but she had not yet come to see them. Neither had Sam. He had his head in the sand and was seeing nothing.