by Robyn Carr
“Two Buck Chuck?”
She smiled. “That’s right—Billy told me, you’re a Mormon. Charles Shaw wine—two dollars a bottle. It’s very good, actually. You don’t really have to spend a lot. And maybe some beer—not imported or anything, just cheap stuff. Snacks or Gatorade for Jeffy’s school or sports teams. Gifts for the kids to take to birthday parties for friends. Cards. Makeup—very little. Postage. And Billy insisted I figure in McDonald’s for the kids twice a month, but we’ve been getting by fine without that so far. And we don’t eat it. It’s just Happy Meals for the kids.”
“Are these utility bills correct?” he asked.
“Cold in the winter, hot in the summer,” she said helplessly.
He put down his pencil. “You’ve got it cut down to the bone.”
“Yeah, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”
“We don’t know that yet,” he said. “Now that I know what you can afford to pay on your debts, I can make a proposal to creditors. I always say this—don’t get your hopes up. Sometimes they hold out to see if you’re really going to do it—file. And sometimes they have policies that prevent them from meeting us halfway. But I can’t really approach them until I know for sure what you can commit to.”
“What can we commit to?”
“Do you mind if I do some figuring and juggling of my own before nailing that down? I mean, if I get close and have maybe one creditor hold out, do I understand you want to try to avoid bankruptcy?”
She scooted forward in her chair and turned her desperate eyes on him. “I want my husband back. He was never afraid or depressed before this.” She reached for Billy’s hand and held it, but focused on John. “We’ve been in this deep for a long time, but he was always positive. I want my husband back—I don’t care about the money. I’ll eat sand for the rest of my life. Do you understand that?”
He smiled kindly. “Of course I do,” he said. “I have a family of my own. I know exactly how you feel.”
“Yeah, but have you ever been in a mess like this?” she asked.
“Like this? No, we’ve been lucky that way. I’m afraid our challenges have been other things—not so much this stuff because I do this for a living.” He gave a weak smile. “We have a special-needs child. He takes a lot of energy and worries us sometimes, but we somehow manage. So listen, try not to panic. Even in the worst case, you’re going to survive this. You’re both young and healthy, Billy has a couple of good jobs, you have a solid house in good repair. Those cars—I hope there’s a mechanic in the family. That could be your only issue.”
“I’m sorry about your son,” she said. “I hope you get the help you need. Our blessings have come with the kids—they’re perfect. That’s why I— Never mind. If we got down to one car, I could drive Billy to and from jobs…. And those jobs—I don’t know if you noticed, he puts in an awful lot of hours. A lot of days he gets home after I’m asleep and leaves before I wake up. And his work isn’t easy—he has to put a lot of muscle in it. He has to be sharp. I’d like him to have more time to rest.”
“I’ll absolutely keep that in mind. Who knows—I could need a paramedic someday. I want him to be healthy, well fed, well rested….”
“She worries too much,” Billy said. “I get good food and sleep in plenty of snatches at the firehouse. I’m fine.”
“I’ll do what I can to see if we can’t get you a little more time with your kids. Would that be all right?” he asked.
Billy held Julie’s hand, squeezed it, bounced it on his thigh a couple of times. “That would be all right. You bet. But remember, I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
Cassie was dressing out to leave the emergency room, thinking about seeing Walt. She had suggested they get together at her house, maybe order a pizza and watch a movie. If they were on the couch in front of the TV, she thought they might get to do some kissing again. It had only been a week since their weekend ride and while she’d worried about it a lot—the fact that it wasn’t really going anywhere—she couldn’t deny that the thought of kissing him all night long was appealing.
This was a good man, and she kept that in mind. She intended to be very careful with his feelings. She wouldn’t let it go any further and…risk hurting him.
“Hey, Cassie,” one of the other nurses said, entering the locker room.
“Hey, Jen. Long day, huh?”
“Whew, tough one. So…how’s your friend?”
“Which friend?” she asked, pulling off her scrubs top and pitching it in the laundry basket.
“The one who just had surgery—the OB you’ve known forever?”
Cassie was frozen in place. Standing in her bra and scrub pants, she turned a startled expression toward Jen. “Surgery?”
“Uh-oh,” Jen said, turning away.
Cassie went straight for her, grabbed her arm and turned her sharply back.
“What surgery?”
“Listen, I guess if you don’t know—”
Cassie had an attack of panic and desperation. She shook Jen’s arm. “What surgery?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” she said with a helpless shrug. “Ow.”
“Tell me what you do know!” she said, letting go of the arm.
“I took that emergency C-section we had up to O.R. and they were wheeling her out of recovery. Jesus,” she said, rubbing her arm.
Cassie went on automatic. She grabbed her scrub top out of the hamper and put it back on, clipped on her badge, closed her locker and went to Admissions, looking like the nurse she was, ID badge and all. “Hi,” she said pleasantly. “Where do you have Beth Halsley? Dr. Halsley?”
The woman clicked through her computer register and looked up. “Medical surgical wing—6-A.”
“Thanks. Have a good evening.” Then she went up to the floor. She went right behind the nurses’ station and flipped through the computerized files. When the team leader came back to the station after some rounds, Cassie smiled at her. “How you doing?” she asked.
“Great, thanks. Can I help you find anything?”
“No, thanks. I sent a patient up for surgery and wanted to check on her before going home, that’s all.”
“How are things in E.R.?” she asked.
“Nuts, as always,” she answered, locating the file. “I’m getting out of here before it gets worse.” She read up to the operative report. Radical mastectomy. Holy Mother of God! Then she recovered herself. “I should be out of here in just a little while.”
“Good plan,” she replied. “I won’t be out of here till Letterman’s over.”
Cassie clicked off the page, stunned. Stricken. She was in a total state of disbelief. She had no clue about this—and it couldn’t have been a sudden decision. Even in the scariest cases, surgeons didn’t whack off a breast overnight. She tried to think if Beth had mentioned anything. But no, it would have stuck in her mind like duct tape. They’d gone almost five years since the cancer.
She had to gather herself up before going into the room. She had to consider that Beth was right now a post-surgical patient, perhaps not in any condition to respond. Perhaps in pain, not to mention grief.
She began to walk down the hall, but before she got to the room she paused, pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Walt. His phone was turned off and she was directed to voice mail. He must have his hands plunged deep in a carburetor or something. “Hi, it’s me,” she said, knowing her voice was stressed. “I’m afraid I have to cancel tonight. I had a problem come up at work. An emergency, with lots of complications. I’ll try to call you later and explain if I can get free. Sorry,” she finished, hanging up. Then she turned off the phone.
She paused in the hall outside Beth’s room—a private room. Hospital staff tended to take good care of their own. She took a few deep breaths, tried to compose herself, then went in on silent feet. There she was, her arm Ace-wrapped close against her, bandages up over her shoulder, an IV tube dangling into the free arm. Oh, God, she thought. This can’t be real.
Cassie sat in the chair by the bed and, after thinking for just minutes, she realized Beth had kept this a deliberate secret. Yet she was in her own hospital, the very same in which Cassie worked. Even so, the odds were still good in her favor of keeping it to herself; nurses didn’t prowl around floors they didn’t work, checking out the patients, and it was a huge hospital. And if the surgery had gone well, she’d be discharged in a couple of days. And then what would she say if they wanted to get together? That she was on call—she’d been saying that for a long time.
So Cassie sat. She wanted to call Julie and Marty, but before she did that she would wait for Beth to rouse, tell her something about this. There was no reason Cassie could think of that made sense, but Beth deserved a chance to explain her secrecy.
It was a long time—a couple of hours—and the sun was setting when Cassie heard a moan and cough from the bed and Beth began to stir. Her free hand went to her chest and she grimaced. You could always count on pain to wake a patient. Then without opening her eyes, she found the call button with the same hand and rang for the nurse.
One came very quickly and gave Cassie a nod on her way to the bed. “Evening, Doctor,” she said to Beth. “How’s the pain?”
“Not so good. Is it time for meds?”
“You’re close enough. Just let me get a blood pressure, check your urine output and then I’ll get you taken care of. Inhalation therapy is going to start bothering you pretty soon….”
“Swell,” she said.
The nurse completed the blood pressure reading, charting it. She glanced at the catheter bag and said, “You’re doing very well, Doctor. I’ll be right back with that pain medication.”
“The faster, the better,” she muttered.
When the nurse had cleared the room, Cassie softly said, “Very sneaky.”
Beth jerked her head toward Cassie with an unmistakable and very mean frown on her face. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth held in a tight, unhappy line.
Cassie stood and went to the bed, leaning over. “What’s going on? Why did you do this without me?”
Her features momentarily relaxed—caught. Her eyes drifted closed. “I didn’t want to go through it again, that’s all.”
“So you went it alone?”
She took a breath. “I was pretending it was a tooth extraction. I didn’t want all the helping. Hoping. Coping. All that fear around me. It’s not as bad as it looks….”
“It looks like a mastectomy,” Cassie said. “The second one. It’s not a tooth extraction.”
“They’re treating it like another primary cancer. Once the breast tissue is gone… Listen, the last time was too much. I just couldn’t…”
“Beth, you can have it whatever way you want,” Cassie said gently, rubbing a knuckle along her soft cheek. “But there’s no reason to pretend with me. With any of us.”
“Yeah, there is. You’re pretty good at this, Cassie, but the others… My parents… Really, if I have to go through that again…”
“Honey, we’re not going to leave you for this,” she whispered. “That was from hell, what Mark did to you. But the rest of us—we’re with you forever. And forever’s going to be a long time.”
Beth squeezed her eyes and her lips contorted. “We don’t know that,” she said in a choked whisper. “We don’t know anything yet. In fact, we might not know anything for months. Years.”
“And you don’t want anyone in this with you while you’re figuring that out? I don’t believe that.”
“Cassie,” she said on a sob. “Cassie…”
“Okay, Beth, I don’t want you to worry about anything,” Cassie said tenderly. “I’m the only one who got wind of this. I won’t say a word—I’ll let you catch your breath. But I’m not leaving you.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “I gathered up some groceries before I checked in. The laundry’s done, the cat’s been fed—”
“You don’t have a cat,” Cassie laughed, though there was an emotional catch in her voice.
“Oh, that’s right. No cat. Wonder what I fed? I’ll just lay low—watch some movies, zone out on pain meds. It’ll be over before you know it. I’ll be back at work in no time….”
“Nice try. I already called my supervisor,” she lied. “I have a couple of days off and I’m taking a couple of sick days. When you’re discharged, I’ll watch movies with you and dose you up. It’ll be like old times—you’ll do narcs and I’ll do Chablis. You’ll see—I’m a goddamn good nurse. Better than these med-surg losers.”
Beth turned her head toward Cassie, eyes open but the expression unreadable. “Don’t bother,” she said. “Really…”
“It’s already done,” Cassie said. “I can’t let you go through this alone—it would damage me for life.”
Beth reached out her free hand, IV inserted and tube following, and grabbed Cassie’s wrist. “My parents, Cass. Please…don’t call them.”
Cassie thought for a moment, remembering the last time, calling to mind Beth’s parents and their clumsy attempts at caretaking. They barely took care of themselves. In all Beth’s growing-up years, her parents were amazing tutors, very involved in her education and totally committed to learning, studying, and that was where their nurturing abilities began and ended. They could never have managed more than one child and Beth’s cancer threw them into a helpless panic. In no time they had turned Beth and Mark’s fashionable little townhome into a hovel filled with clutter and raw emotion.
“Yeah,” Cassie said, “I know. They were kind of a load, huh? I’ll let you handle them in your own time. But you do understand, they love you like mad?”
“I get that, yes,” she answered sleepily. “They’re just not good at this.”
Cassie smiled. “Fortunately, I am.”
The nurse returned with a syringe. “Well, this should help you sleep and feel better,” she said, going straight for the IV.
“Oh, baby,” Cassie laughed. “That’s going right in the vein—you have a good doctor. Beth, I’m going to leave—they’re going to keep you as drugged as tolerable all through the night and I’d be wasting good TV hanging out with you. I’ll check in on you in the morning.”
“Cassie,” she said weakly. “Don’t tell—”
“I won’t call the girls till we’ve had some time to sort through how you want to manage this. I promise. But me, you’re stuck with.”
“Okay,” she said weakly. “Okay, then.” And her eyes drifted closed.
When the nurse had left and the room was bathed in dusk, Cassie stood at Beth’s bedside for a long time. I’ve spent so much envy on her, she thought. And look how her life’s going. Why couldn’t she have ordinary problems like the rest of us? Like trouble getting a boyfriend or passing chemistry? Or maybe even an unsympathy-worthy bad MCAT score? But for years everything seemed to go right for Beth, and on top of that she was stunning. Gorgeous. If you didn’t know anything about her but her grades, her achievements, her looks, you’d think she just hadn’t suffered enough.
Cassie ran a hand over Beth’s shiny, thick, wavy brown hair. She remembered with sadness the last time, when the chemo had stolen her glorious hair, but it came back, almost stronger than ever. And unlike with many cancer patients, it hadn’t altered its color; it was like before. Rich and full. Beth had carried on—beat it.
But not quite.
Cassie watched her sleeping face for a long time, then finally when it appeared she couldn’t get any more insight, she leaned over and kissed her friend’s forehead. Then she left the room. She went back to the E.R. locker room where she was alone and d
itched the scrubs, putting on her jeans and sweatshirt. She walked a little slowly to her car. Once there, she turned her cell phone back on and listened to a message from Walt. I hope you’re okay, Cassie. I understand emergencies. I’m really sorry I couldn’t answer when you called—I was in the middle of something. If you want to, you can call me tonight anytime—I’ll answer.
Well, she couldn’t call Julie or Marty; she had promised. So she called Walt. When he said, “Hey, Cassie,” she burst into tears.
“Oh, God, Walt,” she sniveled pathetically. “I’ve had the most awful day.”
“Oh, honey,” he said so sweetly. “What can I do? Anything. Anything that will make you feel a little better.”
“I’m just leaving the hospital…”
“You’ve been there since seven?” he asked.
“Yeah, but… Oh, Walt,” she cried.
“Cassie, you okay to drive home?”
“Yeah,” she said, sniffing, wiping the tears and snot off her face with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
“Just go home, honey. Turn off the phone and concentrate on driving. I’ll meet you there.”
“It’s getting so late….”
“Oh, who cares? I’ll see you there. Now you be careful, you sound real shook up.”
She sniffed. “I’ve had an awful day.”
“Just hang up, Cass. Don’t drive and talk—concentrate. I’m on my way.”
Cassie had never had anything like this in her life—a man who rushed to her when she was upset. To her complete embarrassment, that was hardly the first phone call she’d made while in tears, but no man in her history had dropped everything and come that fast. Three minutes after she had arrived at home and wept into Steve’s long, gray snout, Walt was at the door. He balanced a take-out pizza in one hand and six-pack of beer in the other.
She took one look at him and leaned into his chest, overcome. “Pizza and beer” was all she could say.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d had anything to eat during your bad day,” he said, trying to hug her while balancing everything. “Let me put this stuff down.”