Not To Us (9 page)

“I love you, too, Elaina.”

“Would it be all right if I call my mom? She’s been worried about you all day.”

I nod, too overcome to speak. The thing is I miss Carrie. I miss Robert, too, even if we are divorced. We have all been friends above everything else and not having them in my life has been hard.

“Let them know it would be great if they could come by for Emily’s birthday. Tell them that we all forgot and we are making it up to her tonight,” I say.

“Ellie.” I sense her hesitation and look up to see her as she catches her lower lip and looks at me more uncertain. “They went to Vegas for the weekend,” she says quietly.

“Oh.”

It’s perfectly clear why they would have gone to Vegas. I turn away before Elaina can see me cry. It’s not that I care. It’s just I cannot believe that after being married to Robert for so many years that he has not even called me to tell me this is what he was planning to do with Carrie. It’s too much. And, I’m pregnant. It begins to settle in with me now that all of this is just a bit too much to take in. In the awkward silence with Elaina, I tell myself that anyone would fall apart at this juncture. I lean over the sink to keep the tears from streaking my newly applied make-up, fully aware that Elaina watches me.

“I’m sorry,” she stammers.

I nod from the sink still intent on salvaging my made-up face.

“It’s just…well, I’m tired, you know? And, where does that leave Emily being their flower girl?” I dab a tissue at my face and contrive to laugh through the tears. “Give me your cell phone.”

With a clear lack of enthusiasm, Elaina hands me her cell phone. I dial Carrie’s cell phone number by heart.

“Elaina,” Carrie says at once.

“It’s not Elaina. It’s Ellie.”

“Ellie.” Carrie’s voice falters for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. I just got home from the hospital. We’re having Em’s birthday party tonight. Will you two be able to make it?” I give Elaina a conspiring look as she stands there, as if we’re in on this solidarity together. She tries to smile.

“Well, no…we’re…out of town. It’s Emily’s birthday, tonight?” I hear the vagueness in Carrie’s response.

“Put Robert on the phone.” I hear the rustling of the phone being passed; wink at Elaina, whose smile just gets wider.

“Ellie?” Robert’s deep voice comes across the phone line.

“Bobby, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot to call and remind you about Emily’s birthday. We’re having her party tonight. You know how she wanted the castle party theme. She’s so excited.” I lie, as if I have any idea how my daughter is feeling today, since I’ve barely seen her. I hear a heavy sigh from Robert as I say this.

“Ellie, we’re out of town.”

“Out of town? Where, out of town?”

“We’re in Vegas.” Robert sighs again.

“Oh. Since when do you like to gamble?”

“We’re not gambling,” he says.

“You’re not? Well, Robert Nicholas Bradford, I think you might be. Well, good luck with all of that. You might want to call in a few hours and wish your only daughter a happy sixth birthday.”

“Ellie! You should have told us sooner,” Robert says.

His attitude immediately ignites my temper. I should just let it go, but, I unleash my fury on him for all of this.

“I know…the thing is Bobby; I was in the hospital most of the day having surgery to re-check for cancer, so I’m sorry that I’ve been so remiss in reminding you about Em’s sixth birthday.” I sigh. “And, what about having Emily as the flower girl in your wedding? Carrie all but promised her this. I guess Emily will just have to learn to live with the disappointment of that, too.”

“God damn it, Ellie. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I have
cancer
, Bobby.” I hear him such in his breath. “I’m just not
myself
, but you two enjoy yourselves in Vegas. God, those are going to be some happy wonderful memories for the two of you. Your mother is just going to
love
that.” I hang up the cell phone, while my ex-husband is shouting in mid-sentence and innocently hand the phone back to Elaina. “You might not want to answer that for a few minutes. Bobby’s pretty riled up,” I say airily and force myself to smile. Part of me already regrets lashing out at Bobby like that.

Elaina nods as she pockets the cell phone back in her jeans. It’s already ringing.

“Ellie, you are so awesome.”

My smile fades. “Not really. Everything’s just so mixed up right now; you know?” My voice trembles.

“I know.”

“Hey, can you do me favor and go make sure they’ve got everything ready? I’ll be down in a minute.” Her cell phone starts ringing again. “Maybe have Em call him back. She should be here in the next couple of minutes.” I put my arm around her and give her a hug. “Thanks for the makeover,” I manage to say.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Elaina asks.

“Never better,” I say, watching her leave with a sense of relief.

I give myself five minutes to experience the pain of losing Bobby forever, of going through a major surgery with just a local anesthetic, and for being a bad mother in forgetting Emily’s birthday all together. None of these things are reconcilable, even with Michael’s miraculous love. I let the tears flow by bending my head over the sink and manage to avoid streaking my face. With a few eye drops, no one will ever know about my crying jag. I reapply a little blush and finger fix my hair and stare at the face in the mirror.
I am Ellie Bradford, no more. Who am I, now?

≈≈

Fifteen minutes later, I walk back downstairs and discover Emily twirling around the room in surprise, completely enthralled with her castle party theme.

“Momma! Did you do all of this?” My daughter runs at me. I half duck from her to avoid the onslaught of pain. Emily stops about three feet from me. She eyes the bulkiness of my pink sweater and must spy the heavy ace bandage underneath wrapped tightly around my arm and chest that peaks out from my collar bone. “Momma!”

Emily bursts into tears. I realize, yet again, the profound impact my cancer has been having upon my family and feel this building anguish. “Baby, I’m okay,” I say.

“No, you’re
not
!” Emily cries even harder and clutches my good arm.

I look up and find Michael watching us with this look of disquiet. In fact, everyone has gathered around and is watching the two of us now. I see the stress and fear in the faces of Elaina, Nick and Mathew. All of them.

“Okay, I can see that we’re going to have to get into the gritty details of this,
now,”
I say with a half-hearted laugh.

I half carry Emily with me as she still clings to me and sit with her in one of the cozy chairs by the fireplace. I give Michael a quizzical look and he gives me this imperceptible nod.

“So, Dr. Liston and Michael took another look at my…well, right here.” I point to my upper chest and shoulder with my free arm. “They were looking for the bad cells that could make me sick, but the good news is that they didn’t find any.” I take a deep breath and look around at all of them. “Isn’t that great? So, now all we have to do is have some x-rays taken of that area to make sure the bad cells don’t come back. Michael doesn’t think they will. Do you, Michael?” I look directly at him with a please-do-this-for-me expression.

“Nooooo,” he says slowly. “We got it all and everything looks good. Your mom is going…to be fine.” Michael struggles to enunciate these last words. I’m sure he is stepping beyond the bounds of what a surgeon normally promises. I detect his hesitation and reticence to do so. I give him my brightest smile.

“Yeah team!” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can manage.

Michael starts to laugh and the tension leaves the rest of them all at once. It’s obvious that these children no matter how old they are take their cues from Michael and me.

In an instant, I’m surrounded by everyone. They take turns giving me a hug or touching me in some way. Michael is last. He kisses the top of my head as all the kids remain watching the two of us.

I lift my head and look at him. “Thanks,” I whisper to him.

≈≈

It is the middle of the night and I awaken to darkness with searing, burning pain
—
the after effects of surgery. The local anesthetic has clearly worn off and now my whole upper left side is aflame. I shift my body; uncomfortable, trying to raise myself unsuccessfully to a sitting position, just as Michael rises from the chair beside the bed in the semi-darkness.

“Are you okay?”

“What are you
doing
here?” I whisper. I’d told him goodbye hours ago.

“Ellie, someone needs to take care of you,” he says.

“What about the kids?”

“I think…the kids have a better sense of what is going on between us than you do,” he says with a slight smile.

He helps me up and I go into the bathroom for a few minutes. The pain is intense. I whisper the word fuck a few dozen times as if this will provide some sort of relief and barely avoid crying out, knowing Michael will hear me. After a five-minute respite, he comes into the bathroom giving me the once-over.

“How do you feel, now? How’s your pain?”

“Right now?” I stall.

Michael gives me an exasperated look. I try to prevent myself from physically recoiling, knowing the pain will get worse if I move at all. “It’s about a nine, I think.” I’m helpless now to admit or fabricate anything else.

“Okay.”

He leaves without a word and returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and two white pills.

I take the pills and chase them down with the water. The medication starts to work after another ten minutes of standing there in the semi-darkness. The excruciating pain seems to tame to almost bearable. We’re both enveloped in this companionable silence, too physically exhausted and too emotionally spent, to do more than gaze at each other.

“Thanks,” I finally say with a weary smile.

“May I?”

Michael gestures with his hands, indicating he wants to take a look at my incision. I nod, too overcome with a mixture of pain and helplessness. He undoes the white men’s dress shirt I’m wearing and the front hooks of the sports bra. He takes a clinical look at my incision in my breast and my underarm. I can barely lift my arm as he examines me. He pulls the bra edges back together and deftly hooks them again. The pressure on my wound is almost unbearable and I catch my lower lip to keep from crying out. He buttons up the white shirt again.

“Sorry,” he says, frowning.

“How does it look?” I ask, trying to sound uninterested.

“It looks fantastic because I’m a very skilled surgeon.”

“You mean Josh.”

“No. I did the surgery. Josh assisted me today.”

“Dr. Shaw, are you giving me special treatment?”

“God, I hope so,” he murmurs.

Michael catches my chin with his finger and kisses me.

≈ ≈ ≈