The Letter

by Mary Crawford

  “I have to agree,” Iris comments. “Even if I had had to custom order this wig for you, I don’t think I would’ve changed a thing. It’s perfect.”

  I run my fingers through the hair. “This is real human hair, isn’t it? When I was researching about chemotherapy, I heard these are very expensive.” I hang my head. “I may not be able to get it.”

  “Don’t lose hope just yet. Do you have a prescription from your doctor?”

  I shake my head. “It never occurred to me to get one. Does insurance even cover this kind of thing?”

  Iris clicks her tongue. “In my opinion, all insurance companies should cover it — but some of them do and some of them don’t. I have good luck getting them to cover it. I just need a prescription from your doctor. You should not have much trouble getting one.”

  “This wig is so perfect. What if you sell it before I get the paperwork in place?”

  “Honey, as far as I’m concerned, the wig is yours until you tell me otherwise. It sat in my back room for quite some time; it can sit back there a little longer.”

  Iris carefully removes the wig and artfully ties my scarf back on my head.

  Rocco sees my devastation and kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry about it, that wig will be yours one way or the other. Let’s go see Doctor Stephenson and get a prescription. Let me call over there and tell them we’re on our way.”

  I walk over toward the lingerie while Rocco talks on the phone. I encounter some bras with odd pockets in the cups. Iris follows me. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

  I turn toward her and shyly ask, “What are these for?”

  “These are for women who need various size prosthetics. Not every woman chooses to have full mastectomies. Some women elect to have lumpectomies. Many of them find they are unhappy with the way their figure looks afterwards. So,Ketki they wear a little something in their lingerie to even things out.”

  “No way! I thought it was just me. I didn’t want to say anything because I felt ungrateful. After all, I still have most of my breast tissue, but I feel uneven and lumpy. It’s like I have a woman’s breast on one side and a prepubescent adolescent’s breast on the other. It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s not just you. We all like to feel beautiful in our skin. If you don’t mind me asking, where did they take your tissue from?”

  I blush a little before I answer, “Mostly, from the underside of my left breast, but they took a little from my armpit as well.”

  Iris digs through some inventory. “You’re usually about a 34B, aren’t you?”

  “It’s pretty scary that you can guess that,” I comment as I cross my arms in front of me.

  “Nothing scary about it. I worked at an upscale department store for years. Measuring people for bras was what I did. Soon, I could just eyeball people — course it wasn’t store policy, I still had to use a measuring tape. More often than not, I was right.”

  “That’s an odd talent to have.”

  “It sure helped when they moved me to the bridal department,” Iris answers with a wink. “Anyway, this model here is excellent for the type of surgery you had. See this little pocket here? It securely holds miniature silicone cutlets as we call them. There are several sizes available — so it’s easy to match with your natural breast.”

  “Oh wow! I didn’t even know they made such a thing.”

  “You could get a prescription for this too.”

  Rocco comes back into the store. “I’m on the phone with Doctor Stephenson’s medical assistant. She wants to know if you also want a prescription for prosthetic lingerie.”

  I look to Iris for confirmation.

  She turns to Rocco. “I work with Doctor Stephenson’s office quite a bit. I’ll get the precise insurance codes they’ll need and fax it over to them.”

  Rocco repeats the information to the doctor’s office. When he hangs up he is grinning. “They said they’ll be happy to provide anything you need.”

  Iris looks at me and says, “Do you happen to have your insurance card on you?”

  I dig through my purse and eventually find the card my dad gave me. When Iris sees it, she smiles like it’s Christmas and her birthday all at once.

  “Honey, it’s your lucky day. Of all the insurance companies I deal with, that one is a breeze. Depending on how quickly your doctor’s office and I can fax back and forth, you guys can probably go get some lunch and come back this afternoon and get your wig.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I exclaim, practically jumping up and down.

  “Nope, I got good contacts in the claims department. Go treat yourself to a celebration lunch and we’ll talk later.”

  “Are you ready for this?” Rocco asks me as we walk into the ceremony.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be — thanks to Iris. That woman is a miracle worker. I feel like my old self — actually better than my old self. I didn’t know half the stuff I needed to know about foundation garments until Iris showed me what I should wear under this dress. I love you for introducing me to her. She has made this cancer thing a lot easier for me.”

  “Well, whatever she taught you, you learned your lessons well. You look magnificent,” he says as he leans down to brush a kiss across my lips.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself. I didn’t realize paramedics have dress uniforms.” I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him more deeply.

  “We don’t wear them much in public. Usually if we wear them, it’s for a sad occasion like a funeral procession or something,” he answers looking around the ballroom nervously.

  “That’s not the case tonight — you and Raylene are getting honored. I’m so proud of you!”

  Rocco tugs at his collar. “Honestly, I’d much rather be honored for another call, almost any other call. It feels strange to get a commendation for this one. We lost a kid on this one — a twin even. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “You don’t have to talk to me about life not being fair. But you and Raylene went above and beyond the call of duty. The minivan was on fire when you rescued the little boy and his mom. That deserves recognition. The boy who was killed was gone before you even got there. Deep down inside, you know it was too late for him. The drunk driver decimated his side of the van.”

  “In my head, I know that. Even so, it just seems wrong to celebrate a partial victory.”

  He tries not to let his nerves show as Raylene and I chat back and forth over dinner. We’re having fun exchanging stories about what annoys us about Rocco. We’re just having fun, but Rocco looks a bit pained about the direction of our conversation.

  Raylene is showing Rocco pictures of her kids on her cell phone and he is reciprocating with goofy pictures of Chevy Chase and Ladybug as if they are our real kids. In an instant, a random thought crosses my mind. I wonder if we’ll be doing the same thing in a few years with our own children.

  Before I can get too emotional over my random thoughts, the Fire Chief calls Raylene and Rocco up to the stage. I cheer like they’re a pair of rock stars. Rocco looks shocked when the mother of the twins comes up to give a heartfelt speech about how grateful she was for their intervention and how happy she is that they were able to save at least one of her boys. By the time she’s done with her speech half the audience is wiping their eyes with napkins. Before she hands Rocco the plaque, she hugs him and whispers in his ear, “You have to forgive yourself for what you weren’t able to do and be thankful for what you did do. You saved our lives. Because of you, my husband still has a family.” Fortunately for all of us, her words were picked up by the microphone and broadcast.

  “Thank you. I’m glad to see you doing so well,” he says as he returns her hug.

  When Rocco walks back to the table, I stand up and kiss him. “See? Even when you don’t think you’re perfect, you’re perfect in someone’s eyes. I love you Rocco Pierce. You’re my hero. I hope someday you’ll stop being my pretend husband and be my real one.”

  When I arrive for my chemotherapy treatment ther
e is a pall over the whole department. Everywhere I look someone is crying. My heart drops to my toes. Frantically I search for Sheila. As far as I know, she is the most ill among all of our regulars. My search is brought to an abrupt halt when I see her hugging some of the monopoly players.

  Sheila turns and looks at me with a teary smile. “Wow! You look like a million dollars. I can see you’ve had the ‘I’ve-got-cancer-but-cancer-doesn’t-have-me’ makeover.”

  Following Sheila’s lead to stick with a lighthearted conversation, I curtsy. “Yeah, Rocco found all the stuff for me. Somebody finally taught me how to use makeup appropriately. You would think I’d know how to do it by now. I’m almost thirty. At any rate, I’m starting to feel like my old self.”

  “Good for you! You might’ve heard, I’ve decided today is the end of the road for me. I talked to my sister, and she’s okay with it. Stella doesn’t want me to hurt anymore. She came with me to my last appointment with my oncologist — she understands now. My dad is upset, but you know, this isn’t about him. It’s all about ego. But his ego can’t beat my cancer. I’m done torturing my body.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. I know better than most what she’s going through, but it still sucks. Sheila is too young to die. Cancer doesn’t give a rat’s butt about that.

  I take a couple of moments to find my words. “What happens next?” I finally whisper in a broken voice.

  “I go home and hope my appetite comes back, so I can eat all the stuff I like because I don’t have to worry about getting fat anymore. I hang out with my little sis and try to teach her a lifetime of lessons in however long I have left. If my dad isn’t a complete jerk about things, I might try to patch up our relationship, so he doesn’t regret what could have been. When the pain becomes unbearable, I’ll check myself into hospice, so I don’t make my family suffer any more than they need to.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know. Can you fix my past?”

  “I’m working on it. Do you want to talk to me in the headache room while I get my treatment? There have been a few developments.”

  “I have to say a few more goodbyes while you get situated, but I’ll join you when I can.”

  Gemma’s mascara is running a little as she hooks up my medication. “Are you okay?” I ask gently.

  “No, not really — I may not be for a while. You would think I’d get used to the loss by now. I’ve been a nurse long enough, I should develop some sort of calluses against this kind of thing — but I never do. I take each defeat personally.”

  “I think I would be the same way. I haven’t known Sheila very long, but it already feels like a profound loss.”

  Gemma nods. “But like Sheila said, sometimes the bravest decision is knowing when to call it quits. At least she’s doing it on her terms.”

  “I hope if I’m ever in her shoes, I can be equally brave.”

  “Now, don’t you go thinking that way. Your situation is completely different from Sheila’s. You can beat your cancer,” Gemma reprimands sternly.

  “I know the odds are in my favor. But, there’s still a statistical chance I might not.”

  “Doctor Blumenauer is no fool. He’ll track your progress with blood work and imaging. He won’t let it get as advanced as Sheila’s. You caught it early and it’s being managed by one of the best teams around. You’ll be one of our success stories. I can tell you’re a fighter. Don’t let the failure of another patient’s treatment regimen derail you.”

  Sheila sticks her head around the corner. “Yeah, listen to her. You’ve got too much important stuff to do with your life. I knew going into treatment, it wouldn’t work. Everybody knew. I just wasn’t strong enough to say no. It took meeting my friends and the staff here to give me the sense of autonomy I needed to stand up for what I knew was right. Part of that meant telling the whole story about Marshall Todd but the other part of it meant leveling with Stella and not shielding her from the truth of how sick I really was. Now, I’m truly free.”

  Tears are flowing down Gemma’s face. As I gather up my tubing and stand up to leave, I give her a one-armed hug. “Sheila and I have some unfinished business to discuss in the headache room. If you need it for another patient, just let me know.”

  As I push my IV pole down the hall, Sheila remarks, “It’s beyond strange just to walk down the hall. This will sound stupid — but this place has become my home. I’m much more comfortable here than I am at my real home. I don’t know what I’ll do without my friends. I don’t think they’re allowed to just let me hang out if I’m not getting treatment.”

  “Well, you won’t get rid of me quite so easily. I’m going to give you my contact information. You better get in touch. Besides, I have to tell you my boyfriend has the coolest friends ever. I’ve never seen anything like it. Some of them are famous people.”

  Sheila’s eyes widen “Like legit famous people? Like I’d know who they are?”

  “Totally. I was shocked. They act like totally normal people. I even asked them about being tabloid fodder. They said it was life. In fact, one of them is related to one of the reporters. It’s too weird.”

  “And you think these people would want to hang out with somebody like me? I have cancer and I only have one leg, remember?”

  “Something tells me, it won’t matter to this particular group of people. Among that gang, neither of those things makes you unique,” I quip as I sit down in the oversized reclining chair and pull my computer out of my bag.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, besides me there are three other people who have battled cancer. Madison's husband is an amputee and Mindy's mom is in a wheelchair. I think she was in some sort of accident as a child. Mindy's fiancé has Tourette's syndrome and her uncle is deaf.”

  “That’s a pretty rad crew. I may have to take you up on your offer.”

  When Sheila sees my computer, she sobers. “You said there were some developments in Marshall Todd’s case.”

  “I had a chance to meet with Marshall Todd to discuss his case.”

  Sheila pales. “You did? How is he? Is he okay?”

  “It’s funny, he asked me almost the same exact questions about you.”

  Sheila looks perplexed. “He did? I figured he would still be cursing my name — after all, I’m the reason he is in jail.”

  “Make no mistake, he’s not happy about that. He doesn’t understand your testimony. But I got the impression he liked you.”

  “Like, liked me — as in had a crush on me?” she asks incredulously.

  I smile. “I’m no expert, but it seemed like that to me. That’s why your testimony was even more devastating to him. He thought the two of you were friends.”

  “Does he understand I wish I could go back and rewrite history? If I knew back then about the strength I have now, I would’ve never caved to my parent’s ideas about what I should have done. I would have insisted on a rape kit and a lie detector test and anything else I could’ve done.”

  “I got the sense he understood what it meant to sacrifice for your sister. He has a little brother. He said he would do almost anything for him too.”

  “I know this is selfish of me, but did he say anything about forgiving me for what I did?”

  “It might be a little early for that. I think he was just trying to absorb everything we were telling him. We were giving him a lot of information. I think with time to process everything he’ll probably come around. It’s difficult for him to hope things in his life will change at this point. After all, he was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. It should not have even been a close call.”

  Sheila hangs her head. “I wish there was some way I could serve out my hospice time in jail and let him go free. That’s what should happen.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” I comment as I reach out and squeeze her hand. “You’ve done what you can do. We’ll take it from here.”

  “What’ll happen now?”

  “I
’ll write up what I know. Andre, my assistant, is working on finding other witnesses who are willing to sign affidavits. My friend Tyler, who is a Sheriff in a different county, is sifting through law enforcement accounts and getting videotapes from the case. When we have it all together, we’ll go to the law enforcement authorities and try again with the new information. Together, we’ll go to the DA. I understand there’s a new District Attorney now. If all goes well, she might agree to ask the court to overturn the verdict.”

  “What if I don’t live long enough to testify?” Sheila asks as she rubs her temples.

  “I’m sure they’ll make allowances for your health. The attorneys might take a videotaped deposition or something. That’s why I’m working on this as quickly as I possibly can.”

  Sheila’s expression grows resolute as she says sternly, “Promise me one thing. Don’t compromise your health to fix my past. It’s not worth it.”

  “I promise. I have a blindingly bright future to live for. I’ll be diligent but cautious.”

  I take a business card out of my computer case and hand it to Sheila. “I meant what I said. For as long as you are able, please keep in touch.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ROCCO

  MY PROTECTIVE MASK MAKES MY beard itch as I flip through the channels on the TV looking for something to watch. “I’ve forgotten how spoiled I am by DVR,” I grumble when I can’t find the game I’m looking for.

  Mallory pushes her iPad toward me. “Maybe you can find it on here. I think you can play back everything we’ve recorded at home.”

  “Just forget it,” I say as I pace around the room.

  “You might as well just go to the wedding. Mindy and Elijah want you there. It’s not their fault my blood count went crazy,” Mallory insists. “My oncologist said it would be at least three more days before he could spring me. He doesn’t want to switch me to oral antibiotics. Besides, they are trying me on a new medication for my nerve pain. They want to observe my reaction to it.”

  I scrub my hand down my face. “I don’t want to leave you behind. You were looking forward to the wedding.”