“‘Skype’? What is the meaning?”
“I have no idea. It’s not a word in English, yet.”
“I will have to Google it, later.” She handed him the laptop and he sank back into the cushions to send the email to Isis. The phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Ana took a quick look at the iPhone’s screen. “It is from Mika. She says that Danveer’s Uncle Palak is in town briefly and could she and Danveer bring him by to meet you tomorrow evening, at seven.”
“Sure.” He looked up from the keyboard. “I’ll see her tomorrow at the office, but I suppose they want an answer tonight. Could you text her that seven tomorrow is cool, Shvibzik? Please?”
“Certainly, Jerr-Bear.” She giggled, he laughed, and they both got down to sending their respective messages.
THE RAIN STARTED up just as Jerry finished cleaning the last of the spaghetti sauce off his plate with the heel of garlic loaf. The window rattled for his attention and the raindrops held that attention for a moment longer. “Looks like we’ll have to postpone that walk. How about a movie, instead?”
“Something with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?”
“Sure. How about You’ve Got Mail?”
“A romantic story about the postal service? That could be quite interesting.”
He walked his plate over to the sink where Ana was pouring the extra sauce into a jar. “It refers to email, not snail mail, though I think the original Hungarian play was about snail mail pen pals.” He kissed the top of her head.
“‘Snail mail’?”
“What we call regular postal service because, compared to email and text messages, it’s as slow as a snail. Anyway, the movie is more about how true love can be hiding right under your nose the whole time.”
“That sounds delightful.”
HALF AN HOUR later they were curled up on the couch together, Ana giggling along with the staff of the Shop Around the Corner while Jerry drifted in and out of sleep.
“DARLING, WHAT IS a ‘bucket list’?” Ana looked over the laptop to where Jerry was changing for bed behind the screen.
“It’s a list of things a person wants to do before they die. Some people write one when they’re young to give them something to aim for, and some write it when the end is getting closer, to make sure they get done the things that are important to them. Why? Where did you hear that expression?”
“On a blog titled ‘Alice’s Bucket List’. She was seventeen when she died of cancer but she made a ‘bucket list’ before she left.”
“Ah.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with the conversation, whether she wanted to talk about cancer or dying or the young girl, Alice.
“Do you have a bucket list, my Sweet?”
He came out from behind the screen, tying the terry robe as he did. “Not really. I started one after I saw the movie, but I got distracted and never finished it.”
“There was a movie about Alice?” She started typing on the laptop, searching for an answer.
“I have no idea. The movie I’m thinking of was The Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. It’s about two old men and their lists.”
Ana looked up. “What was on your bucket list?”
“Just four or five things, I think. Go skydiving, which I did for my twenty-first birthday; swim with dolphins; manage a radio station . . . that’s about it.”
“That was all? That is three things.”
He levered himself up off the couch and shuffled toward the bathroom to brush his teeth. He owed her the truth, but to actually say the words just might kill him. Remembering the last thing he wrote on that long-lost piece of paper suddenly brought home the fact that he was dying, that his bucket list was over and done. But Ana had asked, and if he owed anyone an answer, it was the ghost who finally made him think about life. “I wanted to . . . to hold my newborn son or daughter in my arms and see the future in their eyes.” The weight of it all slammed into him and he stumbled. His hand reached for the kitchen counter, but Ana was there instead, catching him, holding him up. His knees gave out and he folded to the floor, her strength slowing his descent. She cradled him, and they wept together.
THE TAXI DROPPED Jerry off at the studio just before nine o’clock, after a not-so-quick detour to the downtown Tim Hortons coffee shop for two-dozen donuts and muffins. He was two steps into the lobby when Lee-Anne came out of nowhere, scooped the treats out of his hands, plunked them on the receptionist’s counter, and wrapped Jerry in a huge, green, angora hug. He was surprised, but not so much that he didn’t return the embrace, and then realize that his Sales Manager felt really good to hug. He gently broke free of her fuzzy, sweater-wrapped arms, accepting a kiss on his cheek before stepping back.
“Wow.” His hand went to Ana’s book in his jacket pocket, hoping that wherever she was, she couldn’t sense his increased heart rate nor see him blush. If he wasn’t sure about how much life was left in him, there was little doubt now, at least below the belt.
“Lunch. My treat, Jerry. I’ve got us a reservation at Puccini’s. Now, you go do what you have to with Manny for two hours and I will come get you at precisely eleven.” She finger-waved at him and practically skipped down the hall to her office.
“She’s sure in a great mood. I hope it’s catching.”
“Lunch with her favourite boss has her excited.” Mika stepped out of the mailroom and smiled.
“If she maintains that energy level through the whole meal she’ll exhaust me.” He accepted a quick but sincere hug from Mika and they started down the hall toward his office, the donuts and muffins forgotten.
“Lee-Anne feels terrible about how she reacted to your news on Saturday.”
“She doesn’t have to. If I could have run out of the room myself I would have. I’ve never dealt well with other people’s illnesses, so I’m more than willing to look the other way if anyone else has trouble with mine. I sure won’t take it personally.”
“Please tell her that at lunch. She’s been mumbling ‘I hope Jerry doesn’t hate me’ every ten minutes. I finally just shut her office door so I could get some work done.” They reached Jerry’s office and Mika took her leave. “My prep notes for the meeting with the accountant are on your desk.”
“Thanks, M. I appreciate it.”
“Any time, Boss.”
Jerry stepped into his office and Mika returned across the hall to her own office. He hadn’t even hung his coat up when Manny appeared in the doorway.
“How’re you feelin’, Jerr? If I don’t ask right off, then Carmella will have my head. She was livid when she heard you were coming in, then I told her you were driving Ana bonkers so she relented that maybe we could find you a few light duties for two hours until lunch with Lee-Anne.”
“Thanks, but I can handle a little more than light duties. I’d like to talk about the meeting with the accountant but also to go over some ideas I had about our late-night format.”
“Excellent. Get settled, check your emails or whatever and come by when you’re ready.”
Chapter Nineteen
@TheTaoOfJerr: “Hell is full of musical amateurs.”
~George Bernard Shaw
ALMOST ON CUE, Jerry’s rumbling stomach called a halt to the work session at 10:55. “Lunch time, Jerr.” The two men stood up from their notes spread on the conference room table where Jerry had moved them after he realized the printouts wouldn’t fit on either his own or Manny’s desks. He twisted slowly, working the kinks out of his back while Manny rubbed the back of his own neck, towering over the table. “Do you need any suggestions for lunch?”
“Thanks, but she’s picked some Italian place that starts with ‘P’, I think.” Not only couldn’t he remember the name of the restaurant, but the name of his Sales Manager had slipped away from him, too!
“Puccini’s?”
“That’s the place, I think.” He sat back down, suddenly confused. “A restaurant?”
“You bet. You all right, Jerr?”
“I’m not
sure. Why am I going to a restaurant?”
“Lunch. With Lee-Anne. Damn. You’ve got me worried, mate. You can postpone this, you know, ’til you’re feeling up to it.”
“Lee-Anne? Oh, right.” He shook the mental dust from his thoughts. “No, I should be okay. It’s just lunch.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. No problem, Manny. Just a little brain fart. I’m good.” He said the words, but he wasn’t all that certain. There were holes in his memory, like how he’d got to the office, and what he was supposed to be doing after lunch. It both scared and angered him, but he couldn’t let Manny know, or he’d tell his wife and she’d hire a nurse to look after him. He supposed he’d have to start using his phone’s Calendar and Contacts apps more, to keep track of the details of everyday life. Or maybe just lean on Ana a bit more, like Carmella said.
Manny patted him on the back and ushered him out into the corridor. “Go get your coat and I’ll go tell Lee-Anne we’re done,” then he strode silently off down the carpeted corridor and around the corner. Jerry wandered into his office and grabbed his coat. Rather than put it on, though, he slumped in the guest chair and laid the coat on his lap. For some reason he just ran out of steam. He could feel the book in the coat’s inside pocket and found some strength in that. Wondering if Mika would be willing to accept the book and its resident when he died, he finally shrugged into the coat and stepped out into the corridor, just as Lee-Anne bounced out of her office behind Manny.
“Lunch with my favourite boss! Woohoo!” She linked her arm through Jerry’s but Manny stopped her with a light touch of his long fingers on her shoulder.
“Remember what we talked about, Lee-Anne. A nice, relaxed lunch, and then make sure he gets to his appointment after.”
Her smile slipped away, but only because she wanted Manny to know that she was taking him seriously. “Of course, Manny. You really can count on me.”
“I know. Now, go. Chat. Eat. Try the Cajun Beef Lasagna. Expense it, but please spend at least two minutes talking about business.”
Jerry smiled. “A whole two minutes? You’re such a slave driver.” And he let Lee-Anne lead him out to the street where she flagged a taxi faster than he’d ever seen before. As they climbed in, he muttered, “That was impressive. It would have taken me five minutes, at least.”
Lee-Anne giggled and hugged his arm. “It’s one of the advantages of these curves. In summer they practically fight over who gets the fare. I used to be proud of it, but after what you said the other day, I’m not so sure anymore. I’m a person, not a pair of . . . well, you know.”
“Not first hand, but I understand what you’re saying.”
THE TRIP WAS a short one by cab and their table was waiting in a corner, surrounded by old black and white photos depicting streets, people, and the jazz scene. As the hostess seated them, Lee-Anne turned to Jerry. “Do you mind a corner seat, Jerry? The window tables are lovely, but it’s hard to talk when the world is watching us like fish in a tank.”
“This is fine, Lee-Anne.” And it was. The place wasn’t big, but the high ceiling and quiet jazz music in the background swallowed the lunchtime chatter before it reached the other tables. If Ana ate, this would be a terrific place to bring her. He saw a drum kit in the corner. “They have music here?”
“Jazz, blues, mostly the mellow stuff.”
“That’s cool. I’ll have to bring Ana. She’s developing a taste for jazz.”
Lee-Anne reached over and took his hand. “How’s she doing with all of this?”
“She’s holding up really well. She’s my rock, along with everyone at the station, of course.”
A waiter swung by, took their drink orders, and slipped away so quickly it was surreal.
“If she needs to talk to anyone about it, please have her call me. If she’s half as scared as I was when my sister got sick, she’s probably feeling pretty helpless. How about your family? Aren’t they back in Ontario? They must be going crazy with you this far away right now.”
“I’m not surprised your sister’s illness scared you. Manny said you’re twins.”
“Identical, except she was the pretty one.”
Jerry choked on his water. “The . . . ?”
“A joke, Jerry. I know I’m beautiful because I look just like her and I always thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. That’s not ego talking. Mary-Anne’s beauty was soul-deep. She never got into half the trouble I did. The boys all noticed her, too, but she didn’t care a bit. I wasn’t so lucky. I probably cared too much.” A glass of white wine and a tumbler of ginger ale arrived. “Did you want to try Manny’s suggestion? I love their lasagna.”
“Sure. I might as well enjoy solid food while I can.”
Lee-Anne smiled up at the waiter. “Two of the Cajun Beef Lasagna, please, Karl. With house salads . . .” She raised an eyebrow at Jerry and he nodded. “And the Italian dressing, please.” Karl smiled back and left. “So, your family. What did they say?”
“Nothing. I haven’t called, yet. It’s a hard thing to do long distance. I have a young friend I’m going to Skype tonight and break the news to, so that’ll probably be the rehearsal for telling my mother. We haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, so it’ll be an interesting conversation.”
“But it’s still one you have to have. Mary-Anne was a very private person, so she told just her girlfriend and me in the beginning. The first words out of her mouth to me were ‘Go get a mammogram, tomorrow.’ She didn’t tell my parents for another month, until she was well into the treatments. They were still having trouble with her being gay, so she didn’t speak to them very often.” She sipped her wine. Jerry could tell it was painful for her, but he couldn’t think of anything to say or do. “My parents are great people, although a bit too conservative for my taste. But as soon as Mary-Anne told them, their arms and hearts were wide open for both Mary-Anne and Charise. Tell your family. Soon.”
“I will. I promise. After the planning scan today, I might know a bit more. My mother tends to be a little judgmental, with the emphasis on mental, so the more facts I have when I call, the less criticism I’ll have to listen to about whether or not it’s psychosomatic or something else entirely, like drugs.”
She laughed. “I don’t envy you. I’m glad you’ll have Ana there with you. What is it about parents judging their children as inadequate or unable to make their own decisions? I never see my parents without Tom with me. That’s Tom’s idea, because he knows I’d rip into them and take out all my anger at Mary-Anne’s death on them.”
“Do you get tested regularly?”
She lit up and lowered her voice. “Jerr-bear, my breasts get squished so often I’m thinking of leaving Tom for the screening machine.”
Their laughter was interrupted by the arrival of lunch. Karl offered fresh-grated Parmesan cheese and fresh ground pepper, and they both accepted generous sprinklings of each. He then left with a smile and a promise to come back with refills for their drinks. Jerry waited politely for Lee-Anne to take her first forkful, and then he dug in, suddenly famished. They ate for a few minutes in silence, save for mumbled approvals of taste and texture, but Jerry finally had to ask a question that kept nagging at him.
“Did she ever give up? Mary-Anne, that is. Did she ever get so tired of the whole cancer thing and just want to flop on the couch and just stay there until her time was up? I mean, I haven’t even started radiation and have only known about this shit growing in my head for a little while, but I’m just so exhausted, emotionally.”
“Not in the beginning, no.” Lee-Anne put her fork down on her plate, gently. “Mary-Anne laughed and smiled and fought and raised awareness and funds for breast cancer research, but after her second radical mastectomy, it was like someone punched her in the gut, every day. In the beginning there was a lot of hope and promise and everyone had their fingers crossed, but when the treatments started losing ground to the disease, yeah, the couch became her best friend.”
“I lo
ve my couch these days. I wish I didn’t.”
“And I wish I knew a secret to give you hope or cheer you up or get you off that couch. Charise was able to get Mary-Anne up for a while, but even love and affection run out of steam, as my dad said. If I let my imagination loose, and we were both single and you weren’t my boss, I could come up with more than a few things to give you energy and a reason to live, but I can’t. That’s Ana’s job and I would never insult either her or Tom by suggesting it beyond this table. Besides, that’s just my mischievous sex drive talking, trying to make you smile. Charise and I have had long, long talks about this, and in the end, it was more about Mary-Anne dying with peace and dignity. We made sure she got to say everything she wanted to everyone she had to.” Lee-Anne’s voice softened to a barely audible whisper and Jerry had to lean in a bit to hear her. “She said her last goodbyes to Charise and me at the same time, while we held her hands to our hearts. Peace, and dignity, Jerry.”
“I guess that’s all anyone can ask for. She was lucky to have you.”
“It’s what sisters are for.” She picked up her fork and continued to eat, her eyes glistening with sadness.
“Yeah, I suppose. I’m sure my sister would be glad to do that for me, but we’d probably have to gag my mother if she was in the room, too.”
They finished their meals over less-important small talk about life in Victoria, Lee-Anne’s children, and Jerry’s newly acquired skill on the dance floor. Lee-Anne switched to green tea after her second glass of wine and they kept up the conversation right through dessert. Jerry suspected that they would have kept up the banter right up to dinner, but the alarm on his phone went off. He pulled it out and read the message on the screen.
Waking Anastasia Page 20