One Last Fight

by Brenda Kennedy

“I love you,” she says as she cuddles into me.

  I lower my head down and kiss the top of her head and say, “I love you, Sweets.”

  Leah

  Two months have passed since Mom’s surgery. She slipped into a slight depression but was able to overcome it. It’s true, you can mourn a body part, but she realized you can have breasts and die, or not have them and live. She was more accepting of living her life without them. I think Dad played a significant role in her thinking.

  Dad is Dad. He looked scared and fearful at first, but now, he is back to his usual ornery self. He doesn’t look at Mom any differently. He still jokes about her sexiness and swats her on her butt when she bends over or walks past him. Robert was right. I think Dad finds Mom’s strength a turn-on. They have always gotten along, but I think this has strengthened their bond even more.

  The chemo has made her weak and tired and on some days, she was even sick.

  Mom feels good today, so Mom, Margie, and I are out shopping for padding inserts and new bras for her. The guys are home with Gracie. Gracie loves the attention they give her. I’m sure that instead of having cartoons on the television, Gracie will be forced to listen to a Rocky Balboa Marathon. She’s too young to have the attention span to actually watch it.

  Margie insists we shop at Victoria’s Secret first. Mom hasn’t worn a bra since her surgery; she doesn’t need to. She wears large baggy shirts where you can’t see her flat chest.

  “I don’t want to go in there,” Mom insists with a smile on her face, indicating that she does, in fact, want to go inside to shop.

  “Let’s just go and look to see what they have,” Margie says, following Mom into the store. I have to smile. It feels good to laugh. “What size bra do you want?” Margie asks.

  “Well, before my operation, I was a 36B.”

  Margie looks at Mom’s chest and then at the bras that are nicely displayed on the table. “Good, let’s shop for a 36C.”

  Before Mom can say anything, a salesclerk walks over and says, “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Mom shyly says, “No, thank you.”

  Marge interrupts and says, “Yes, we need bras.”

  “What size are you?”

  “A 36B,” Mom says.

  “She’s a 36C,” Margie smiles, “She’s recently gained weight.”

  The sales clerk looks at Mom and then her eyes drop to Mom’s flat chest. “We can always measure you to make sure.”

  “Oh, never mind, I found them,” Margie says quickly as she pulls Mom by the arm and walks away.

  Margie holds up several different colors for Mom to see. Mom is still smiling and blushing. The salesclerk left and never came back to help us. Margie holds up a black, sexy, lacey bra for Mom. Mom takes it and runs her hands over the material and says, “I don’t know about this.”

  Margie takes it and holds it up to her own chest. “I would love to be this size. I think you should get it.”

  “And what will I do with this?”

  “If you need me to tell you that, then the chemo has done some serious damage to that brain of yours.” Mom laughs and Margie says, “You’ll wear it to dinner tonight.”

  “I’m not going to dinner,” Mom says.

  It dawns on me that this may be exactly what Mom and Dad need. “This is a very good idea.”

  Margie takes the bra and another one in her size to the register. “Yes, you are. We all are. Leah, call Robert and tell him to make reservations for six people at 7:00 p.m. at Mattison’s.

  I call the restaurant and act like I’m Robert’s business manager. I don’t usually do this, but for my mom, I will. I think a night out with the best seating in her favorite restaurant is just what she needs. They are more than accommodating and assure me they have the best available table for Robert. I text Robert next.

  Leah: Dinner tonight at 7.

  Robert: Just us?

  Leah: No, all six of us. It’s your mom’s idea.

  Robert: It’s late, I’ll don’t think we’ll have time to get reservations.

  Leah: I’ll take care of it, and I’ll call you back.

  Robert: Okay, good luck.

  I don’t tell Robert I used his name to get a table. He wouldn’t be happy. I’ll tell him later. Mom looks happy as she carries her pink Victoria’s Secret bag out of the store. To see Mom happy, it’ll be worth it.

  Next, we walk into Dillard’s Department Store to shop for a dinner gown. I guess we are going all out tonight. I text Robert to give him a heads up.

  Leah: Reservations at Mattison’s Forty-One in Sarasota, and it is a suit and tie kind of night. Tell Dad and Walter.

  I put my phone away before he replies. He won’t be happy. He hates suits and ties. He’ll also wonder how I managed to get dinner reservations there on such short notice.

  Mom, Margie, and I all shop for an evening gown. Usually, I would shop for something low cut, but not since Mom’s surgery. We all shop for something more conservative and classy, but still sexy. I find the perfect dress for Mom and hold it up for her. It’s black, with a sweetheart neckline, and it’s long. It will show off her natural curves and her new store-bought curves.

  She looks at it then holds it up to her. “It’ll look beautiful,” Margie says. I agree. Mom would typically try it on, but she doesn’t have her breast prostheses yet. We’ll get them next. I think that it would have been smart if we had gotten them first.

  Margie and I also shop for a new dress before we go up to the lingerie department. I am surprised they have a department with bra paddings and prostheses. Margie doesn’t ask for help but instead walks over to the area she thinks we need.

  Mom looks embarrassed. She doesn’t want anyone to know she has had a mastectomy. It’s almost like she isn’t a complete woman or something. A young saleswoman walks over and offers to help. Margie quickly declines as she continues to search for bra paddings. The curvy, petite, blond salesclerk walks over a few shelves and picks up a pair of pads. “These are my personal favorite. They look and feel the most natural.” She looks at Mom, me, and then Margie. Our eyes automatically go to her chest. She is dressed in a white, form-fitting sweater and black slacks. It’s not low cut so you can’t see her cleavage, but it is a scooped neckline.

  “You wear these?” Mom asks.

  “For two years now,” she smiles. “Double mastectomy.”

  “I didn’t know. You can’t tell,” Mom says.

  “You have to learn how to dress. It takes some time to change your style, but with practice, you’ll look just as you did before your surgery, if not better.”

  Mom walks over to her and says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but don’t apologize. I’m alive, I’m cancer free, knock on paddings, and my husband loves me for who I am. I have met some amazing people on my journey whom I never would have met otherwise.” She smiles and the smile reaches her eyes.

  Margie and I just watch and listen. This woman is an inspiration to all of us and is just what Mom needs.

  “You’re so young,” Margie says.

  “I’m thirty.”

  “You’re so positive and optimistic,” Mom says, sadly. “So young to have to go through something so traumatic.”

  “I wasn’t like this at first. I was mad, bitter, and sad; I was a real bitch. It took some time to come to terms that I had cancer and it had claimed parts of my body. But my wonderful husband made me see I didn’t need boobs to be sexy. He was right. Boobs are just boobs and now I feel fine and confident without them. Not confident enough to mow the lawn topless, but confident. People out there are going through so much more than I am. So, I mourned briefly, dusted myself off, and moved on.”

  “You’re right,” Mom agrees.

  “My cousin Edna just lost her seven-month-old grandson, Noah, on the 28th. Can you imagine? There can’t be anything worse than burying your child, or grandchild.” She wipes away a tear and tries to smile. “We’re all blessed and we all have tragedies. We just h
ave to find the silver lining along the way.” She looks away and then looks back to us. “I’m sorry, sometimes I talk too much.”

  Mom and the salesclerk talk and Mom openly talks about her surgery. The dull look leaves Mom’s eyes and I think the sparkle is returning. The woman tells her about a support group she goes to and invites Mom to go to the next meeting. She helps Mom to shop for pads and bras. I’m thankful she has someone who knows what they’re doing. I was afraid Margie would have Mom looking like a hoochie momma.

  The salesclerk introduces herself as Valerie. She tells Mom to have fun shopping for lingerie and for pads. “I was a 34A before my surgery,” she admits. “My husband actually bought the sweater for me.”

  “You aren’t a 34A now, are you?”

  Valerie laughs and says, “No, my husband bought these for me, too. Today, I’m a 34C. Yesterday I was a B cup.” Mom laughs and it’s a genuine laugh. “I always hated my small breasts. So I’ll never be an A cup again but I draw the line at a 38DD. Are you shopping for something special?” she asks Mom.

  “Yes,” Margie interrupts. “She bought this new dress and she has a hot date tonight with her husband.” Margie removes the dress from the bag and shows it to Valerie.

  “It’s beautiful. I think we need to get you ready to try it on.” She walks over and places the pads she was holding on the shelf and takes two pairs of pads off of another shelf. “I’ll be right back,” she says before she disappears.

  “She looks great,” Margie says.

  “I honestly had no idea those weren’t her real…,” I begin to say.

  “I know, me either.” Mom smiles.

  “That’s the whole purpose,” Valerie says as she walks around the corner. She is holding several bras in her hands. “They’re supposed to look natural. Here, try these on with this bra.” She gives Mom a bra and two pads. “I think they’ll work and the dressing room is right behind you.”

  Valerie helps Mom buy the right size bra and pads. She also helps Mom buy some shirts and sweaters that will be flattering to her. Mom and Valerie exchange numbers and Mom is excited for the first time since her diagnosis.

  Mom asks Valerie, “Have you had any unusual customers?”

  “Sometimes, a woman will call the store and ask about bras and pads. I will assume that she has had a mastectomy, but she will say, ‘No, I haven’t had a mastectomy. My husband just likes to wear a bra sometimes.’”

  We leave the store and I get an idea. I text Robert.

  Leah: Running late, tell Dad and Walter to meet us at the restaurant. The reservations are under your name.

  Robert: Is everything all right?

  Leah: It’s fine. I’ll be home soon. xoxoxo

  Robert: Do you want me to meet you at the restaurant, too?

  Leah: No, wait for me. We’ll go together.

  We get our hair done and go to my house to get dressed. I don’t want Dad to see Mom before dinner. I shower and dress quickly while Mom and Margie bathe and Robert dresses Gracie.

  Robert and I walk into the restaurant and are seated at the best table in the house. Several people stare and whisper as Robert walks past their table. He looks straight ahead and doesn’t even notice. My husband is a bit of a celebrity, and he doesn’t even realize it.

  Robert holds my chair out and then places Gracie in the highchair. “Are we celebrating something tonight?” he asks.

  I want to tell him about Valerie and how much she helped Mom today. I’m not sure he’ll think it’s a big deal. But I do.

  “We are celebrating.”

  Dad and Walter walk in next. They are both wearing suits and ties and look incredibly handsome. They hug me before taking a seat. Robert orders champagne and Dad asks, “Are Sue and Margie in the restroom?”

  “No, they’re on their way. They drove separately.”

  The waitress comes with the champagne and fills all six glasses. Gracie plays with her toys and eats a cracker. She sees Mom and Margie walk into the room and starts to kick and squeal. I laugh. Gracie always does that when she is excited. Dad sees Mom and his face lights up. He smiles and stands up from the table.

  Robert leans in and says to me, “She looks great.”

  “I know.”

  Robert and Walter also stand and they each kiss Mom and Margie. They both look incredible. Dad takes Mom by the hand and kisses her longer than appropriate for a restaurant.

  “Kids are in the room,” I tease. I’m referring to Gracie and me. I may be an adult, but I’m still their child.

  Mom decided on a 36C padding and bra tonight. It is very flattering and she looks sexy. She is smiling and her eyes sparkle. We toast to good health and eat, and then Mom, Dad, Margie, and Walter dance.

  Gracie, Robert, and I watch from the table. “Did something happen today while you three were shopping?” Robert asks as he bounces Gracie on his knee and watches our parents slow dance.

  “It did.” I do my best to explain how one woman and one hour could possibly have the impact that she had. I think Valerie was a Godsend for Mom. She was exactly what she needed at that time. Some people enter your life, and you have no idea what their purpose is. Others enter and you know exactly why God brought them to you. Valerie is that person. I have no doubt that God sent her to help Mom and us through this journey.

  “Well, whatever she said or did worked. Your mom looks fantastic.” He looks at his mom and dad and says, “My mom looks pretty great, too.”

  I watch both sets of parents and they all look great. When Gracie starts rubbing her eyes, Robert pays the bill and I gather Gracie’s toys, bottle, and bib off of the table and tuck everything in the diaper bag. We wait and say our goodbyes until after the dance.

  On the drive home, Robert and I talk and laugh about our parents dancing. He says they have moves he has never seen before. I laugh and smile until my cheeks hurt. “Since Mom’s diagnosis in December, this is the first time that I feel like everything might be okay,” I confess.

  “If today reflects the future, I would have to say you are right.”

  Chapter Six: One Last Fight

  Robert

  Today is April 1st. One month before the fight between Kennedy and me. Sue has finished with her chemo treatments and is adjusting to the new her. She unfortunately lost her hair from the treatments but she and Valerie are now long-time friends. They went wig shopping with Leah and Mom the other day. Sue bought a wig with the same color of hair and the same hair style that she had before the treatment. According to Leah, Mom tried to talk her into something… different. Let’s just say, long and curly is not Sue’s style. If Jamie were alive, she would have tried to talk Sue into something pink. According to Jamie, girls always look better with pink hair and pink clothing — and so do boys.

  We had Valerie and her husband, Rick, over for dinner with Tim, Sue, and my parents. I never asked how old Valerie was, I just assumed she was older. I was shocked to see that they were around our age, maybe younger. It makes her story even grimmer if that’s even possible.

  Valerie hugs me although she has no idea who I am. But her husband, Rick, knows. He’s a big boxing fan and is excited to be here. I will never get used to other people’s reactions to me. Leah laughs; she expects that response. It’s almost like she watches for it.

  Valerie is everything Mom, Sue, and Leah said she was. Bubbly, happy, and beautiful inside and out. We learned she and Rick were high school sweethearts. They married right after college and she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years later. They never had children and they never will. She says she can’t bring a child into her life, not knowing if she’ll be around to see him or her grow up. It’s the only time of the evening that Valerie seemed to be sad.

  Madison is adjusting to Leah and me, as is Caden. She still doesn’t call us Mom and Dad, but we have accepted that. She will when she’s ready. Leah and I are just glad that she is in our lives. Madison calls us and comes over frequently, and we take her to and pick her up from school on occasion.
She still sleeps in Jamie’s room, and Caden sleeps in Madison’s room. The house is filling up with children as Leah and I had hoped it would.

  Caden sometimes comes over with Madison and sometimes he stays home. I’m not sure if Chelsea and Drake had something to do with that. Leah and I both have made it very clear that he is always welcome.

  The grandparents come over whenever Madison is here. They are hoping that a time will come when Madison will want to stay with them. I know there is very little that would make them happier than to have their granddaughter spend the night and call them Grandma and Grandpa.

  Today I ran and then I drove Leah to work. I’ve been working out, running, and boxing every day for months. I can’t believe the fight is just one month away. Gus, Dad, and Tim are on me about getting in shape. As is Leah, Mom, and Sue. Even Jo put her two cents in the other day when I tried to sneak a cinnamon bun.

  The gym and training center is coming along. We have lots of people signing up, and Leah and I agree to push back the grand opening a couple of weeks. I’m pretty sure I won’t be in any condition to appear in public after my fight with Kennedy, not to mention that I will almost certainly be exhausted.

  We made a doorway from my office to Leah’s. It works out although I don’t sit in my office nearly as much as she does. Gracie is sitting up and crawling, and like all very young children she is trying to find new, exciting ways to kill herself. Yesterday I caught her licking an electrical outlet. Thank God it had the child safety covers on them. When she’s an adult, she’ll either be an electrician or die in an electric chair. She still kicks and squeals when she gets excited. She doesn’t have any teeth, and she has a huge toothless smile. Leah is still breastfeeding, so I think she’s glad that Gracie is still toothless.

  I open the door to my side of the building and it doesn’t smell of espresso, cinnamon buns, or buttercream and vanilla. It smells of sweat. I inhale and it reminds me that I am working out just as I should. We recently added weights and an elliptical trainer. Leah hates the smell and very seldom comes over. She usually uses the adjoining door to the offices to leave food, coffee, or notes on the desk for us. It makes me laugh. In response, I open the door wide and thank her. The aroma of the gym is quite different from coffee and cinnamon. She has recently asked for a lock on her side of the door.