After dinner, they set up a date for the following week. Phaedra tried to hide her excitement when she saw them exchange numbers. She thought it was a romantic exchange, but in reality, Rick was going to show Thair houses in her neighborhood in case she wanted to buy up. Even though she was broke, it sounded like a nice diversion for a Saturday afternoon. Thair did like him, and she knew Rick also liked her, and that they would be fast friends even if she never bought a house from him.
From the smile plastered on Phaedra’s face, Thair knew her mother could already hear the wedding bells; Thair decided she wouldn’t tell her that one of the things Rick shared during their lively conversations was that he was gay and lived with his life partner. Happily ever after. They were high school sweethearts. Who would have known? Certainly not Phaedra.
Phaedra was a traditional woman with traditional values, and though she had no outward ill feelings towards gay people, she just “didn’t get it” as she had told Thair on several occasions when they happened to catch a “coming out” show on TV. With Rick’s masculine build and deep voice, she had no inkling that Rick was unavailable for her daughter, in more ways than one. Rick and Thair did end up having a relationship, a strong friendship; in fact, Thair had gotten even closer to Rick after her return from her last summer vacation. He and his partner were a couple that Thair could count on any time, day or night, either to share a glass of wine and laugh uncontrollably or to provide two sets of strong shoulders for Thair to cry on.
This time, though, Thair didn’t think that her mother’s request for a visit was for some surprise guest or present, Phaedra’s voice sounded different, anxious. And Thair’s first reaction was worry.
“Mama, are you okay?”
“Yes, honey, I’m fine. I just need some help with … um … something.”
“What sort of something?” Thair asked suspiciously.
“I’ll tell you when you get here, okay?”
So there she was, in the middle of suburbia, with the unbearable heat, trying to open the front door. She could hardly breathe. From the cooker to the freezer, she went from a burning hell into her mother’s icy heaven. She felt a chill travel up and down her spine.
“Mom! What temperature do you have the air on? It’s freezing in here!” she yelled while still entering.
Her mother didn’t answer, just ambled from the hallway into the living room where she greeted her daughter with a kiss on each cheek (Greek style) and then a hug (American style). Phaedra looked radiant. Ever since the divorce from Thair’s father, thirteen years before, Phaedra seemed so vibrant, so alive. Phaedra absolutely captured the essence of joie de vivre in her forever-smiling face. Nothing brought her down, a resilient woman, strong and proud despite her tumultuous life. Thair admired these qualities in her mother, and sometimes wished she were more like her—a stronger woman.
For the last decade, Thair was an adjunct professor (colloquially called a “freeway flier”) at several community colleges in San Diego County, and every year she was becoming more disgruntled with her job. No job security, no benefits, so much work and so little recognition. To make a decent salary, she had to teach several classes at several campuses all around the county, much of her day spent in a car “flying” from one campus to another, colleges as far as fifty miles apart. The only thing she really loved about the job was her students. Jane, the seventy-eight-year-old great-grandmother who decided she wanted to return to school to finally finish her degree after two husbands, five kids, nine grandchildren, and one great-grandchild, always stood out in Thair’s mind. There was also John, an African-American man who wanted to begin a degree at the age of fifty-six, his life’s goal to graduate from a university. There were others: the mature, ambitious students; the young, lazy ones; the surfers; the princesses; the jocks; the pot smokers. They all had a story, all had something to share. Thair loved learning as much as she loved teaching. Her students were what brought her back to the classroom semester after semester, year after year. Of course, the other thing she loved about her job was June, July, and August. It was during those months that she got to rest and recharge her teacher’s battery. Every May, she said it would be her last year teaching, but by August, she was excited to go back into the classroom.
During the long summer holiday, Thair got to relax, visit friends, and occasionally travel. The year before, she got to return to Greece. It was a tough visit for Thair, retracing cobblestoned streets that she had known intimately as a teenager. Upon returning, she saw very little had changed. Kythnos was still a sleepy island with few tourists. Thair had spent the three months of her summer holiday on the magical island, renting a small summer house, and writing her grandmother’s and mother’s stories. The overall experience was irreplaceable: bright sunny mornings, warm afternoon winds, long days, endless reflections. Encountering a beautiful woman with sad eyes. It was a bittersweet memory now. It didn’t hurt to remember, but it was a dull feeling that lived with her every moment of every day. She felt sort of like Blue Man Group, like a bucket of paint was poured on her; she was no longer the same color, no longer the same person. She had this coat of another color, yet—unlike the Blue Man—she was the only one who could see it, feel it. This new color was part of her, not something she could just wash away. It was a summer she would never forget. It had marked her forever.
Standing in her mother’s living room, Thair looked up and saw a small painting of Santorini. It was a painting she had always admired, but she was careful during her years with James not to hang other artists’ work in the condo.
Her mother approached her, “You know it’s yours if you want it.”
“I know, Mama, thanks, but it looks really good on this wall. I would hate to take it from you.”
“Like I said, honey, you can have it if you want it.” Her mother loved to repeat herself. Though Thair loved the painting, she knew it would serve as a constant reminder of her summer affair, and that was probably not the best thing for her, at least not yet.
“So, Mom, why did you want me to come by today?”
“Thair, I don’t want you to worry, but Dr. Chung’s assistant called and said that I should come in today. She said the doctor wanted to see me about my mammogram and suggested that I may want to bring a family member with me.” When she said these words, in a very nonchalant manner, Thair’s heart started beating furiously.
“What did she say was the problem?”
“I don’t know, honey, that’s why I wanted you with me. I’m sure I’m fine. I just wanted you to come along since you understand medical mumbo-jumbo better than I do.”
“But … but … are you okay?” Thair’s face grew pale and her eyes widened.
“Yes! Of course, I am! Don’t look so crazy-worried.”
“Mom, this is serious! How can you be so lighthearted?”
“Well, how can you be so dramatic? We don’t know anything yet, so let’s just get going because you are being silly.”
Thair didn’t feel silly. Assistants did not tell patients to bring in support unless there was something wrong. Thair could already picture donning a pink ribbon, walking the Susan G. Komen three-day; she would hold her mother’s hand with each injection of chemo, and she would stand by her since there was no one else. Tears filled Thair’s eyes, how could this be happening? Her mother was so healthy, walking every day, eating wholesome food, leading a relatively carefree life. How? How? Thair started thinking about her own life. It was just the two of them in this world. Phaedra had never remarried; Thair had never married. And even worse, Thair had never given her beloved mother the grandchild she had yearned for. God, where were all these thoughts coming from? Thair didn’t even want kids. She had come to this decision in her late twenties, just never had the guts to tell her mother because she knew how badly Phaedra wanted to be a yiayia.
These thoughts tore at her while they drove in silence to the doctor’s office. Thair screamed in her head: God, why would you do this to such a good woman? Such a
good mother? Damn it, it’s not fair! Thair couldn’t believe that she was even talking to God. She was not really religious, but now she found herself swearing, then praying to this God of her Greek Orthodox upbringing. Jesus, sweet Jesus, Thair pleaded, please let my mother be okay. Please don’t let her have cancer. Please. Don’t make her suffer. She continued to pray as the quiet in the car was overbearing. Her mother took her hand and said, “Baby, it will be okay. Really. Whatever happens, it will be okay.” As she turned and looked out the window, Thair thought she saw a flash of terror cross her mother’s face; when her mother turned around again and looked at Thair, a radiant smiled appeared.
The doctor’s office was freezing. They had the damn air-conditioning up so high. Goose bumps covered Thair’s body; sitting there shivering, she put on the sweater that she carried with her everywhere. Phaedra sat there with her long, thin legs crossed at the ankles, wearing nothing but a beige sundress. No goose bumps, she was perfectly happy in this environment. Her mother grabbed a People magazine off the table and started to read the first article about another celebrity supposedly cheating on his wife. Thair, on the other hand, grabbed several magazines and riffled through them, one after the other, throwing them back on the table without reading them. Every few minutes, she looked up at the clock hanging on the wall then at her watch.
Finally, she jumped out of her plastic chair and stormed the reception desk. “Excuse me,” in a brusque tone, “my mother had an appointment at 1:45 and it’s already 2:00 p.m. When will the doctor be seeing her?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Chung is running a bit behind today. It shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes! It seemed like she was hanging on the end of Dali’s clock watching it melt in slow motion. At 2:15 p.m., she got up again. “Excuse me, it’s already 2:15 p.m., you said that …”
“Okay, the doctor is ready for you,” she said with an acrid smile, getting up and opening the heavy door that allowed patients into the sacred back room where destinies were delivered.
Thair and her mother were led into the doctor’s office. Phaedra sat in a chair in the corner of the room, her daughter in another across from the doctor’s desk.
“Mama, come closer.”
“No, I’m fine here.” It was as if the farther away she was from the doctor, the further away she was from the truth.
“Mama, please let me bring you closer.”
“Okay, geez, you never let me be,” she said teasingly with a smirk.
Thair felt her face redden. How could her mother be so light-hearted? From irritation to sorrow, from anger to grief, she jumped off the swing of emotions, stood up, walked over, motioned for her mother to get up, then lifted the chair and brought it closer to the doctor’s desk. Thair’s sweaty hand soiled her grey dress pants; her other hand gripped her mother’s. Everything that bothered Thair about Phaedra was amplified that day. Her mother never seemed to take anything seriously. She was so darn content with her little life in her little home in her little town.
Phaedra crossed her legs, pulled her hand away, calmly placed her elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced, tilted her head, and smiled—yet again. She looked like she was posing for a portrait, and why so many toothy smiles at a moment like this? How could she be so fearless? Suddenly Thair was overwhelmed with a different feeling, one of pride. Everything she admired about her mother was also present in that room. Her resilience. Her upbeat attitude. She would sit in that cold room and receive any news with grace and dignity.
“Hello,” the doctor said as he walked in, not greeting either of them by name despite the fact that he held Phaedra’s chart. He sat at the desk across from Phaedra and her daughter, flipping through pages that were in a manila folder.
A few moments later, he looked up at Phaedra and said, in one breath, “So, you have Stage 1 breast cancer, and these are your choices.”
There was no hesitation, no preparation for the news they were about to receive. He could have been ordering take-out food as he rattled off “choices” for a few minutes while looking through her.
For a college-educated woman, Thair felt like he was speaking Pig Latin. She understood some things, but it was in a code she could not decipher. Yes, her mother did have cancer, but it was all “mumbo-jumbo,” just as her mother had anticipated. Nothing was clear, and the choices did not seem like choices at all.
Phaedra did not utter a word as Thair began an attack of questions.
“What does Stage 1 mean? Where is the cancer exactly? Is there a lot of it? Can you please explain what a lumpectomy exactly consists of? And is it better to remove the whole breast as a preventive measure? And if she elects the entire breast could or would she have immediate reconstruction? And is radiation painful or dangerous? And what are the side effects? And can she really go without chemo? And what about … ?”
The doctor handed Thair a stack of literature, told her to look it over so that her mother could select one of the following: chop off some of the breast, all of it, or maybe both breasts for the price of one.
“I know you have a lot of questions, so why don’t you read these pamphlets and make an appointment with the oncologist. He will be able to further direct you.” He said this as he started walking out of his office and finished with, “Good luck.”
Good luck? Had Thair just heard the words good luck? Was this some damn soccer game that they were trying to win? Good luck! Thair kept saying the words in her mind as she looked down at the pile of papers on her lap. Where was Phaedra’s personal case in this stack of cold literature? Thair was irate: she is not just another patient. She is my mother. She could be anyone’s mother. A precious mother. How could he treat her that way?
Phaedra seemed tense as Thair pushed the chair and stood up with the force of Atlas. She had forgotten completely about her mother but finally noticed her, sitting a little more slumped than when they had entered.
“Mama, are you okay?” Thair said with gentle eyes, mustering courage for her mother.
“I’m fine, baby. I am sure it will all be okay.” She seemed tranquil, as if the grim reaper had not just knocked on her door.
A mix of anger, frustration, and sadness overwhelmed Thair. She wanted her mom to stand up and fight, but Phaedra just sat in the chair, patiently, quietly, looking at a photo on the desk—Dr. Chung and his family, a slim Asian woman and two pictureperfect children.
The entire doctor’s visit took seven minutes. In and out. It took longer to get a hamburger than to receive this news.
It was hard to relive that day. My mother decided to get a lumpectomy and radiation. Hopefully that would be all; hopefully they had found the cancer early enough. The months ahead would be challenging and, all of a sudden, looking for love just did not seem that important anymore.
16
Encinitas, California
October, 2001
“Is that book any good?”
What a bad line, but he’s cute, so I answer: “It’s fantastic, actually. So good that I want to get back to it.” Shoot, why did I say that?
“I guess a guy should know when he’s being intrusive, but … I really wanted to buy it, just not sure if it was worth spending the money since it’s still only in hardcover.”
Great, a cute cheap guy, but I hear myself saying as my lips turn into a smile, “Listen, I am not particularly attached to bestsellers, so when I’m done, I can leave it here at Pannikin with your name on it. I figure I will be done with it by next week. I usually come here every Saturday, so just ask for it any day after that.”
“I know you are here every Saturday,” he says.
What do I say to that? Okay cute, cheap guy, you are a bit creepy since you know my schedule, but I have never seen you. I don’t respond immediately, thinking that his handsome (Indian?) face with his gargantuan nose reminds me of a few of my Greek lovers from when I was younger. His strong features, including a strangely-sexy unibrow and dark skin, also make me think of where we are as a co
untry and how discrimination is running rampant with anyone who is not perfectly porcelain. It seems that I am not the only one a mess—as a country we are all suffering. It may be these thoughts of compassion or just that he is damn sexy, but my phlegmatic disposition changes, and instead, surprisingly, I hear myself say, “So, you come here regularly? I don’t think I have ever seen you before.”
He replies with a smirk, “I don’t know how you would have seen me since you always have your nose stuck in a book or you’re … grading a pile of papers?” He states the last part more as a question, but I’m not ready to reveal too much information yet.
This man strikes me as witty and incredibly attractive, despite the cliché, and I am pretty sure he’s flirting with me.
“Can I buy you another coffee?”
I look down at mine and there’s only about a sip left.
“Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“Just a regular house coffee with a bit of milk. No sugar.” It sounds like I am ordering a coffee from a waiter. Then I hear a voice in my head: That’s not living. Angela, my student, had said what I already knew. I have to be more open. “Thanks, that will be great.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he says while grabbing my cup.
I look into his honey-brown eyes with a genuine smile.
Looking down at my book, I try to keep reading, but the words become blurry, so I lean forward and peek into Pannikin’s entrance. Indian-man is in line, holding my empty mug. I guess buying me a cup of coffee means getting me a $.50 refill.
The Greek Persuasion Page 10