by Jim Cangany
"Thanks." She didn't say any more, and I decided it wasn't my place to ask.
"Time for your celebration dinner," I told her once were buckled in. "I think you'll find our choice of location fitting."
A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of an Italian restaurant. Annie chuckled as she got out of the car.
"Yes, we thought Bravo was an appropriate locale to celebrate finishing chemo."
Annie wrapped her arm around mine. "What's with the 'our' and 'we' bit all of a sudden. Last I knew, you weren't of royal lineage."
"I'm not." I opened the door and led Annie through the restaurant toward a room in the back. "But we still thought you deserved a celebration."
A chorus of "Surprise" rang out as Annie stepped into the room. Following Beth's lead, our assembled friends gave her a standing ovation. Annie put her hand over her mouth and leaned into me.
Staci approached, looking frighteningly pale but grinning ear to ear, and put her arms around Annie. A few words passed between them before Annie cleared her throat.
"Thank you all so, so much. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I'm a little overwhelmed right now, but you all need to promise me that nobody leaves tonight without a hug."
I escorted her to our seats at the head table. Miranda was waiting there with her arms out wide. Annie hugged her and Ryan while I settled into my spot. She nudged me while we waited for the main course after the salads had been taken away.
"I can't believe you got all these people here. I mean, even Ira made it. How'd you pull this off?"
I nodded toward Beth. "It was all your Musical Director's doing. Once we knew today was going to be your final treatment day, I reserved the place and Beth took care of everything else."
Annie looked past me at Beth, who was sipping an import beer. "Girl, you are truly amazing. Thank you."
Beth shrugged. "Wasn't any big deal. Your friend Miranda and I exchanged a few text messages and there you go. Nothing compared to what you've been doing."
She tapped her beer bottle with a knife, and when the room had quieted down, got to her feet.
"I'd like to thank y'all for being here tonight. From little Miss Staci over there to this old guy Ira next to me, we've seen our friend Cassandra go through one wild ride these last four months. And while she's not of the woods quite yet, she's darn close." She raised her bottle. "So to an amazing collaborator, a tolerable boss, and a great friend, congratulations on completing this portion of your journey. We love you."
Voices echoed Beth's toast while the main course was served. Annie put her arm around me. "Thank God for dinner. I wouldn't have been able to say anything without falling to pieces."
Throughout the rest of the meal, we joked and kept to small talk, content in the knowledge that despite what lay before us, we'd at least made it to this finish line. Much to my surprise, and pleasure, Annie was hungry enough to eat all of her dessert and most of mine. The calories would come in handy when the effects from the chemo kicked in.
Annie and I left the same time Staci and her parents did. The two survivors chatted out of earshot for a bit before Annie joined me at the car. I wanted to ask how Staci was doing, but chose not to, afraid that Annie might not have good news for me. Instead, I chose to think positive and be content that Staci had felt well enough to join us.
At home, Annie got so wrapped up in responding to well wishes on her computer that she didn't believe me when I told her it was almost midnight.
"Fine. I'll come to bed. I'm just not looking forward to how I'm probably going to feel when I wake up tomorrow."
When she woke up, she felt fine. It wasn't until about two in the afternoon that her condition went downhill. And when it did, it went like a boulder in a rock slide. Annie spent the better part of the next week rotating among the bedroom, the bathroom and the couch.
One morning, while she was asleep on the couch, I received a text from Gloria. She was on her way to sit with Annie. When I texted back that Annie felt like a truck had run her over, G responded she'd be there in twenty minutes.
I hovered near the door, hoping that Gloria wouldn't ring the bell and wake Annie up. Two soft raps on the door still almost sent me through the roof, I was wound up so tight. When I opened it, Gloria stared at me for a moment, cocked her head to the side for another second or two, and sighed.
"My lord, you're worse than I feared." She handed me a grocery bag and slipped inside.
My mind was in disarray from the combination of the comment and the unknown contents of the bag. I pushed the door closed with my back and watched Gloria head out onto the patio. After leaving the bag on the kitchen counter, I hurried to join her.
Once I was seated, she started right in. "When's the last time you got out for a ride?"
I scratched my head. "Day before yesterday, I rode the Truckster to get some groceries."
Gloria stared at me, her lips in a straight line. "I don't mean that. I mean a ride with a capital R. One when you're gone for half the day."
I sat back and rubbed my neck muscles. They were as hard as tempered steel. I knew the kind of ride Gloria was talking about—a solid fifty mile plus ride. One that would take me at least three hours and involve a minimum of three counties.
"I don't know."
She lowered her head just a touch. "Really?"
"Really. It was probably before the chemo started hitting Annie so hard. So, a month maybe?"
"It's been longer than that, try the first week of April. And don't argue with me, I have my sources. That's too long for you. I know what being on that bike does for you, so you're going to go give me sixty miles at least. I want to see your odometer before you head out. Now get moving."
"What about Annie?"
Gloria shook her head. "What about her? She's asleep. I brought my Bible. Thought I'd read some Scripture until she wakes up. Then the two of us can visit a while."
I stood and jammed my fists into my pockets. "But what about—"
"Save it. We're both adults. I'm sure we'll find a way to manage without you for a few hours."
A ride did sound good. I gazed out over the Monon. That familiar tug coursed through my veins. The road was beckoning.
"Okay, but I'll have my cell phone on if you need me."
Gloria rolled her eyes and pointed indoors. In fifteen minutes, I was changed and rolling out of the garage.
Sixty-four miles and almost four hours later, I returned. My lips were salty with sweat. The cleats on my cycling shoes click-clacked on the hallway floor as I made my way to the living room.
"There's no sneaking up on anyone while you're in those," Annie said with a wink. The comment took me back to an evening not so long ago when I'd teased her about how loud her high-heeled shoes were on the condo's hardwood floors. The memory warmed my heart almost as much as seeing Annie upright did. She was wrapped up in a blanket and was holding a mug of something that was steaming.
And she was smiling.
I hadn't seen a smile from her in too many days to count.
"Touché." I worked my way out of my cycling shoes and nudged them against the wall. Gloria took my cyclocomputer from me and studied it.
"Not bad. Why don't you hit the shower? I'll have dinner ready when you're finished."
With as much grace as my weary legs could muster, I shuffled over to Annie and gave her a quick kiss on the head.
"Ewww. You're all sweaty and stinky. Get away from me before I start hurling again." She waved her hand in front of her wrinkled up nose. I turned and headed for the shower, with a smile on my face as I heard Annie and Gloria sharing a laugh.
By the time I'd gotten cleaned up, the ladies had moved to the patio. Annie was still wrapped up in a blanket, but it was still comforting to see her outside. I slid open the door and breathed in deeply. Somewhere nearby, a lawn was being mowed. The scent of freshly cut grass tickled my senses.
Annie looked up at me from beneath the brim of her Angels baseball cap and grinned. "Hey
there, handsome dude, you'll sit by me, yes?"
I pulled up a chair next to her and lowered myself into it. The legs were wobbly from the ride. Collateral damage from our fight with the Big C, I guess.
We whiled away the rest of the afternoon catching up with Gloria. Spring was always the busiest season at the Bicycle Co-op, so we hadn't seen much of her recently. While we visited, she took a few minutes to give Annie a status report on Indianapolis Wheels for Women, an initiative the Cassandra Lawrence Foundation had funded.
The timer on the stove started beeping, so Gloria hurried off to check on dinner. When she'd slid the patio door shut, Annie scratched her ear and started picking at the fabric of the blanket. "Soo...nice day, eh?"
I nodded. Something seemed to be on her mind.
"Look—"
The patio rolled open. "Dinner is served. E.J. will you pour drinks while I help Annie get seated?"
Just like a puff of smoke on a windy day, whatever Annie wanted to discuss was gone, left behind by Gloria's fabulous cooking. The chicken soup and homemade bread totally hit the spot. G and I exchanged a quick glance when Annie asked for a third serving. She hadn't eaten this much in days. When dinner was over, Gloria helped me clean up and we said our goodbyes.
"Don't want to overstay my welcome," she said while she slipped a windbreaker on. "You keep getting better young lady."
"Yes ma'am. And I don't need to see your report to the Foundation before you send it in. I trust you. Thanks for taking care of me today."
After Gloria left, Annie headed to the bathroom for a soak. When she didn't return to the living room after an hour or so, I went to check on her. She hadn't fallen asleep in the tub, thank goodness. She was in bed, burrowed under a mound of blankets. Based on her steady breathing, I figured she was asleep, so I backed out of the room and clicked the door shut.
I was awakened the next morning by a series of nudges against my arm.
"Guess that ride took it out of you, huh? You never fall asleep on the couch."
I sat up and massaged the crick out of my neck. Annie handed me a cup of steaming tea.
"Come on. I actually made you breakfast. It's not much, I realize, but it's the least I can do." She took my hand and led me to the dining room table, where a bowl of granola with sliced bananas awaited me. While I ate, Annie sipped her coffee.
"So I was thinking that we should work on getting the wedding invitations mailed out. It's only four months away after all."
I sat back and appraised Annie's physical condition. The dark circles under her eyes had faded somewhat, but weren't completely gone. Her skin still looked pasty and she was frightfully thin. I didn't even want to think about how much weight she'd lost.
And she still had a double mastectomy and reconstruction to get through.
And maybe a month's worth of radiation treatments.
And be in condition for a wedding.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that. You've been through a lot, and there's still more to go. So I was thinking that maybe we should hold off on the wedding to, you know, to give you a little more time to recover."
"You don't want to go through with the wedding?"
"No, not at all. I just thought it might be a good idea to delay it for a while."
"Delay the wedding? But the date's been set for months. We can't go cancelling it now." She crossed her arms. Some color had risen in her cheeks. Normally, I would have been happy to see that. Now, I wasn't so sure.
"I'm sure, given the circumstances—"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean—given the circumstances? You know what, forget it." She rose and stalked off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
I rubbed my forehead while I worked my way through Annie's outburst. In the middle of my attempt to figure out what I'd done so wrong, the bedroom door opened again. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and headed for the garage.
"I need some fresh air," she said without taking a glimpse at me.
Annie was gone all day. I texted her mid-afternoon to make sure she was okay. Her response—Im an adult & can take care of myself—pretty much removed any doubt I was in her doghouse. The question I couldn't answer was why.
It was after dark when Annie finally returned. She tossed her keys on the counter and looked around the room, evidently to avoid making eye contact with me. With a huff, she dropped onto the couch and fired up her laptop.
I got up from my spot at the dining room table but didn't approach her. I got the sense she didn't want me too close.
"Can I get you some dinner?"
She shook her head. "Ate already."
"I was worried about you. Are you okay?"
She stopped typing and raised her head just enough to hit me with an icy cold glare. "I have cancer. Of course, I'm not okay." She went back to her typing.
Totally clueless about what to do next, I busied myself with folding some laundry. At the snap of Annie closing her computer, I turned around. She took a deep breath and got to her feet.
"I'm tired and don't feel well. I'd appreciate it if you'd sleep in the guest room tonight."
Before I could respond, she'd closed the bedroom door behind her. A tiny click made my hair stand on end. She'd locked the door.
A couple of beers on the patio didn't help my mounting confusion so I went to bed with a promise that if Annie was still upset in the morning, I'd sit down with her and get to the bottom of the problem.
What I didn't count on was her being gone when I woke up.
Fifteen
I stared at the note and tapped the table with my fingertip. It was nothing if not direct.
E.J., I need some time to myself to think so I'm heading home to the Villa. Please just let me be. A
Annie was gone.
I pulled myself out of the chair and went to the patio. The bright June sunshine warmed my face but failed to reach my chilled heart.
Annie was gone.
Please just let me be. What the hell did that mean? A burst of insight came to me. I rushed to the bedroom. Like a crime scene investigator searching for a stray hair or a finger nail clipping, I scoured the room. Her jewelry box had to be here. I found it in the nightstand drawer. With a deep breath, I opened the cedar keepsake Miranda had given her for Christmas.
Damn.
All her jewelry was still there—almost. Among the things she'd left behind was the necklace on which she'd strung the Claddagh and engagement rings. She'd lost so much weight, the rings had started slipping off, so she'd bought a chain to wear them around her neck until she put some weight back on.
The Claddagh and engagement rings were gone, though.
I sat on the edge of the bed and took the chain out of the box. The finish glittered in the lamp light. After a moment or two of staring at the chain, I put it back and slipped the box in the drawer.
My search complete, I headed for the bathroom. Her medications were the only things that were missing. Of course, she could pick up things like a tooth brush and body lotion anywhere. Further inspection of the condo revealed she'd taken her phone, laptop and purse. Her car was gone, too. Annie had done all this, and I'd never heard a sound.
I debated calling Miranda, but decided against it. I didn't need her freaking out. She and Annie had become such good friends I didn't want to pull her into the middle of something. At least until I had clue as to what that something might be.
She'd left almost everything behind. So did that mean she'd taken off for good? If so, why write the note? I rubbed the back of my neck. She'd have to come back. She had further treatment to complete—unless she wanted to get new docs out there. Hell, it'd been easy enough to transfer her medical records from California to here. A phone call could just as easily send the new records there.
To keep from crumbling into a blind panic, I kept busy by looking for anything else Annie may have left. There were no text or voice mail messages on my phone. The only new message in my email was a request for voluntee
rs to help out with the upcoming Ride Across Indiana. Desperate, I made a return trip to the garage and looked through my car for a note or...something.
There was nothing.
I needed to get out of the condo, but I was too frazzled to drive or ride, so I walked into Broad Ripple. After debating my next step over some frozen yogurt, I finally called Miranda.
"Annie what?"
"She left me a note this morning that she was heading back to California and wanted me to leave her alone."
"Oh my lord, E.J. What did you do?"
The accusatory tone in Miranda's voice raised my hackles. "Nothing. We were having breakfast yesterday and were talking about the wedding invitations, and she got mad at me and the next thing I know, she's gone."
"What were you talking about? I mean specifically."
I ran my fingers through my hair. "I don't know. I think I mentioned that it might be a good idea to postpone the wedding, or something like that, and—"
"No, please don't tell me you did that."
I got up and threw my empty yogurt bowl away. "Didn't do what?"
Miranda let out along breath. "Did you suggest postponing the wedding?"
"Well, yeah."
"Oh E.J., why would you do that?" Her voice carried more disappointment than my mom's ever did.
"Maybe because she's just coming off eight rounds of chemotherapy. Maybe because she still has to go through a double mastectomy and reconstruction surgery in the same day. Maybe because she still might have a bunch of radiation treatments after that. I don't know Miranda, with all that on her plate, I can't imagine why postponing the wedding to give her a little time to recover from everything would come up."
There was silence on the line. My anger and confusion made me want to lay on the sarcasm even more, but Miranda's history as Mom's nurse kept me from saying anything stupid. I'd called her, after all.
"We need to talk, face to face. There's something I need to explain to you. I'll come by your place after work. In the meantime, promise me you won't try to contact Annie."
"Why? Miranda, I don't—"