The Letter

by Mary Crawford

“You’re looking chipper for someone who spent the last hour throwing up.”

  “I was hoping the change in chemotherapy regimen would make a difference.”

  “I think it has — a little. You’re nauseous, but not like you were the last time. At least this time, you’re keeping some fluids down. I think jumping to Edna’s homemade chicken noodle soup was a step too far.”

  Mallory rubs her stomach. “You’re probably right. But I was starving.”

  “I know. We can try again in a few hours, but I think you should go back to ginger ale and popsicles for now.”

  Mallory looks a little queasy. “I don’t know if I can face chicken noodle soup for a while. It’s too bad, because I love Edna’s homemade noodles. Sheila was right. I should stick to foods I hate. That way when I throw them up, I won’t resent them so badly.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. One order of habanero flavored corn nuts coming up,” I tease.

  Mallory blanches and sways a little. “You are so mean! Are you trying to make me sick? I just got cleaned up.”

  “You’re right, that was a low blow,” I answer with a grin as I try not to let my eyes wander. Even soaking wet with her hair wrapped in a towel, Mallory is beautiful. She shivers so I grab another towel from the linen closet and wrap it around her shoulders as I walk with her back to her room.

  She’s still having pain when she raises her left arm, so I help her with her pajama top and button it while she clutches the towel around her breasts. The oversized shirt is so long it hits her mid-thigh when she stands. She drops the towel and steps out of it. She balances against my shoulder as she steps into the pajama bottoms and pulls them up. When she’s finished, I ask. “So, what happened today to put a smile on your face?”

  She grabs a dishpan and an extra hand towel and places it on the bed. She hops into her bed and pats the space beside her.

  I climb into bed and Chevy Chase follows, burrowing his way between us. I cover us all with the heavy down comforter. Mallory smiles up at me and cuddles against my chest. She sighs with contentment. “Oh my gosh! I’ve been waiting for days to tell you this. I’m so relieved I finally can.”

  My muscles tense as I wait for her news. I can’t imagine what she would have to tell me after all we’ve been through. I hate the thought that she’s been keeping secrets from me.

  She senses the change in my body posture.

  “What do you think I’m going to say?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. In my line of work, I have to be prepared for anything.”

  “Relax. This actually doesn’t even have anything to do with us. No rescue required; it’s actually good news for a change.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out as relief courses through my body. She has a point. It seems as if I live in a constant state of terror these days. “By all means, proceed. I could use some good news.”

  “Remember back when we first met when I asked you if you were contacting me to give me information about Marshall Todd?”

  I nod.

  “It turns out, I’ve been meeting with the ultimate insider in the case and she’s willing to share her story publicly. This may be enough to get Marshall Todd a new trial.”

  “Wait a second. There wasn’t any real evidence against him, was there?”

  “Nope — that’s the point. What little there was, is now gone. The witness has completely recanted.”

  “When have you been working? You’re supposed to be resting and giving your body a chance to heal,” I chastise.

  Mallory blows her bangs out of her face in frustration. “I might have breast cancer, but my brain works just fine. I’m on medical leave, but there’s a young man in jail who is wrongly imprisoned. He doesn’t give a rat’s behind if I’m feeling under the weather. He deserves someone to fight for him.”

  “But, does that person have to be you? I think you have a more important fight on your hands right now!”

  “Look Rocco, I understand you are a caretaker … right down to your DNA. But, that does not give you license to tell me how to live my life.”

  “But —” I protest.

  “But nothing! Geez Rocco! I come to you with the biggest break in my entire career — something which could set somebody free from prison and the only thing you can say is you’re afraid I’m not acting sick enough for my cancer? Give the care-taking gig a rest for once and simply be my boyfriend! I thought you were proud of what I do.”

  “I am,” I answer defensively. “I’m just worried about you. You shouldn’t be under added stress.”

  Mallory slaps her hand over her mouth and scrambles off the bed. She grabs the dishpan and runs toward the bathroom.

  For several minutes, I lay there and listen as Mallory loses the contents of her stomach. I would offer to help — but I know it would not be welcomed. After a while it is quiet and I hear the toilet flush and water running in the sink. The sound of Mallory’s electric toothbrush echoes in the quiet house.

  Chevy jumps off the bed and follows Mallory down the hall when he hears the bathroom door open. My heart sinks a little when I hear the door to the guest room creak and slam shut.

  I blink back tears. Even though I’m only the pretend husband, the role is starting to feel pretty darn real. The line between fact and fiction disappeared weeks ago for me. This feels like a real fight with real consequences. I wish I could rewrite the script so I could figure out how to fix it.

  Weaving my way through the tables, I try to balance my sticky pecan bun on the top of my coffee cup as I find an out-of-the-way table at Joy and Tiers. Just as I am settling in to read the paper, Denny comes over to talk. Normally, I love talking to him. Today is not one of those days.

  “Excuse me if it’s none of my business, but is there a reason you’re here and my wife took your girlfriend to chemotherapy this morning?” he asks, not pulling any punches.

  “Maybe Mallory didn’t want me to take her, did you ever think of that?” I answer with far more venom than Denny deserves.

  “Oh, Hershey’s Bars! Don’t tell me you two are having trouble already.”

  “Excuse me?” I answer.

  Denny chuckles. “I forgot you’re a newcomer. That’s the Ashley way of cussin’ without cussin’,” he explains. “I used to drive trucks when my daughter Kiera was just a little thing. I couldn’t very well use the street slang of the day, so I made up my own language. Most of the guys on the route knew when I had an extra passenger and played along. It just became a habit even when she was old enough to know the difference. Kiera is a social worker who works with kids. So, she just carried on the tradition. Now, we all talk funny,” he adds with a hearty laugh.

  “Makes perfect sense. I might have to learn some of those words to use when I’m trying to put in a line in a moving ambulance.”

  “So, what’s going on with you and Mallory?” Denny presses as he leans back in his chair and takes a handkerchief out of the pocket of his red and black plaid flannel shirt and cleans the lenses of his bifocals. His curious gaze is intense but friendly.

  I rake my hand through my hair. Geez, I need a haircut. When was the last time I got one? “I wish I knew. I don’t know, really. We were talking about what happened at her chemotherapy session because she was unusually happy even though she was puking up her guts. All of a sudden, she started talking about her job. She’s on leave, so I figured she put her job behind her and just focused on getting well. She doesn’t need the stress. When I told her I thought she was doing too much, all hell broke loose. Now, she’s not talking to me. She wouldn’t even let me give her medication or make her a snack last night. Mallory won’t even look at me. She looked right through me this morning when I tried to ask her if she wanted me to take her to chemo.”

  The corners of Denny’s lips twitch. “Overstepped your bounds, did you?”

  “I didn’t know I had bounds!” I protest. “I was just trying to be helpful. The doctor warned her she’d be fatigued and run short of energy. I just to
ld her she needed to concentrate on getting better. What’s so wrong with that?”

  Denny doesn’t even try to disguise his amusement. “Son, it’s clear Mallory is your first serious girl.”

  I shrug. It’s not like I can really argue.

  “Nothing to be ashamed of. It was kinda like that for Tyler too. He floated around life being the life of the party and everybody’s nobody serious until he came toe to toe with Heather and everything changed.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes as he smiles a misty smile. “I was there that day. It was something to behold. ‘Course it took him several years to figure out they were in love, but that’s another story.”

  “How could you tell Mallory is the first woman I’ve ever been in love with?”

  Denny chuckles softly. “Well, it’s kinda obvious. If you haven’t figured it out, women don’t take too kindly to being told what to do under the best of circumstances and they especially hate it when they’re sick.”

  I lean back in my chair and take a long sip of my coffee.

  “Is there a handbook or something? The last thing I want to do is make this harder on Mallory. I didn’t mean to make her mad. She doesn’t need for us to be fighting.”

  Denny’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “Hate to tell you this, but I’ve been married twice. There is no such thing as an owner’s manual. Even if there was, it wouldn’t work. No two women are the same.”

  I frown and rub my temples. “Oh, great. What in the heck am I going to do? If I don’t know what I did to offend her, how in the world will I avoid doing it again? It’s hard to work out our problems if she won't even look at me.”

  Denny looks thoughtful. “You have a point. Just a minute, let me go talk to Gidget.”

  At my blank look, he clarifies. “I mean Heather Colton. Tyler calls her Gidget so often, sometimes her real name slips my mind.”

  “When I first met Jaxson playing basketball, he warned me you all were an odd bunch. He was right. As much as I’ve hung out with you guys, you never cease to surprise me.”

  “Be careful, I might take that as a personal challenge.” Denny gets up from the table and walks back into the kitchen. His eyes sparkle with mirth, but I have no doubt the former trucker was a force to be reckoned with in his younger days.

  When he reemerges, he has Heather with him. She examines me from head-to-toe as if I’m a distasteful reptile from the zoo.

  “Just so you know, this is not something the Girlfriend Posse usually does — but Kiera is one of the founding members. As you know, Jeff is her husband. Donda is Jeff’s big sister. Your best friend is married to Donda. You mean a lot to Jaxson, and we take care of our own.”

  I glance back and forth between Denny and Heather as I try to put her odd statement into some context. Finally, I give up. “What does that even mean?”

  “Just be here tomorrow morning. Denny will take Mallory to chemo.”

  “Okay, thanks, I guess. I’ve heard legendary things about the Girlfriend Posse. Hopefully you all can help. I screwed up my life pretty well on my own.”

  “We are quite renowned for fixing messes and making it all better.”

  My eyes can’t find a place to focus in Heather’s classic Bel Air car. “This is gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it except on television. Are you sure it doesn’t belong in a museum?” I stammer.

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell Denny you said so. This was one of his projects.”

  “Wow! Does he do this professionally or something?”

  “He probably could — but he doesn’t. He does it if he loves you.”

  “I can tell I’ll have to work on getting on Denny’s good side. My car is only a generic import. In my heart I drive a classic Camaro, but my wallet disagrees.”

  Heather laughs out loud. “I hear you. If it weren’t for Denny, I don’t know what I’d be driving. Hey, does Mallory need any more soup? On the way home, we could stop by the bakery and I could get her some.”

  I shake my head. “I think Mal is boycotting soup for a while.”

  “Oh … it’s like that, is it? Gwendolyn had trouble too. Can she keep down anything?”

  “Right now, if it even looks like soup, she can’t handle it. She doesn’t do very well with sweet stuff either.”

  “I’ll try some savory quick bread. She might like that.”

  “Thank you, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

  After we’ve been driving in silence for several minutes, I finally gather up the courage to ask, “Are you planning to tell me anything about our mission today?”

  “You said Mallory is upset with you and you don’t understand why, correct?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I was just trying to help.”

  “We’re holding a session of the Girlfriend Posse to help you understand how your ‘help’ was not so helpful.”

  I sigh and lean back against the seat as I close my eyes. “Oh geez, did Mallory tell you what an idiot I was?”

  “No, she didn’t have to. That’s the default assumption until proven otherwise,” Heather says with a wink.

  I clutch my heart dramatically. “That’s a little brutal,” I complain.

  She raises an eyebrow. “If the shoe fits —”

  “Touché.”

  When Heather walks me into the kitchen of the large old farmhouse in the country, I feel like I’m stepping in front of a firing squad even though everyone is sitting around a lovely oak table drinking coffee and eating what looks like scones. Donda looks up at me and hops to her feet. She gives me a warm hug. Then she studies me carefully and kisses me on the cheek. “Breathe, you’ll be fine. We are here to help you, not hurt you.”

  She turns back toward the table. “Most of you already know Rocco Pierce. However, in case you don’t, let me introduce him. A few years ago, after Gabriel went away to college, Jaxson brought him home after he went to the park to play basketball. No matter how many times I tell my husband not to bring home strays, he never seems to listen.” Donda looks over at me and winks. “In this case, I’m glad he didn’t. Jackson and Rocco have become good friends and Kenadee adores him — and not just because he likes all the scariest rides at the fair.”

  “Tyler has worked a few accident scenes with Rocco and he says he’s a talented paramedic,” Heather chimes in.

  “That’s all great,” Tara, Aidan O’Brien’s wife, comments, “but what did you do to warrant an emergency meeting of the Girlfriend Posse?”

  I pull out a kitchen chair and sit down. “That’s a great question — I wish I knew. It must be something serious because Mallory can’t even stand to look at me at the moment.”

  Gwendolyn turns to an older lady at the table. “Isabel, this is not your typical lover’s quarrel. Mallory just started chemotherapy this week and is having a rough go of it.”

  “Oh, my. Even though it’s been decades, I remember it like it was yesterday. I wouldn’t go back and repeat those days for anything. It’s a wonder William and I survived those days,” she reminisces.

  “Your cancer was that advanced?” I ask.

  “It was advanced enough, but that’s not what I’m talking about. My husband William, he’s a former Oregon Supreme Court justice now, but back then he was an eager prosecutor. He was a problem solver by nature. He figured he could study my cancer to death. If he could find out enough facts about what was killing me, he could make it go away. He would flat out argue with my doctors. I finally stopped inviting him to my appointments. I purposely wouldn’t tell him what was going on because I didn’t want him second-guessing every decision I made.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way,” I blurt.

  Isabel smiles at me indulgently. “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t either. But, that didn’t matter. What mattered was how it made me feel. The cancer had already taken away all of my power. I’d always wanted more than one child and that option was gone. I no longer felt beautiful or desirable, I wasn’t even in charge of what went in my body because even if I chose to eat somet
hing, there was no guarantee the food would stay in my body — in fact, I could pretty much count on not keeping it down no matter how hard I tried. I lost so much weight I had to be hospitalized because I became too weak to fight off a simple run-of-the-mill cold. Before I had breast cancer, I was a teacher — I was making a difference. Breast cancer took away far more than just my breasts. It changed my relationship with my husband. I lost my autonomy.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I don’t understand. You’re cancer free now, right? When you were done with your treatment, couldn’t you just go back to teaching?”

  “That was my plan. I thought I could pick up right where I left off. I even had reconstructive surgery so no one could see the hole cancer had left in my life. But, for me that’s not the way it turned out. Even though I had successfully beaten cancer and met my five year cancer free milestone, repeated rounds of chemotherapy and radiation had taken their toll. My immune system couldn’t seem to bounce back. To this day, decades later, I’m susceptible to every little germ and virus which crosses my path. As you know, that’s not a desirable trait in a teacher.”

  “I didn’t even think about ongoing side effects. That must’ve been incredibly frustrating.”

  “It was. Yet, I think even worse was what happened between William and me.”

  Heather stands up and pours me a cup of coffee. “Rocco, you need to know — we’re brutally open and honest in this group. If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, let us know.”

  “There’s not much I’m squeamish about,” I announce, almost boastfully.

  Donda raises an eyebrow. “You might want to rethink that. You know how blunt I am and sometimes the conversation in this group makes even me blush.”

  I whistle softly between my teeth. “Wow! I’m not even sure I can imagine a conversation which would make you blush. That ought to be interesting.”

  “Trust me, it’s happened,” Donda insists. “Consider yourself forewarned. Are you still on board?”

  “Yeah, I need to know the full scoop,” I declare bravely, wondering what I’ve talked myself into.