Becca (15 page)

“Like what other
treatments?”

“Radiation. Chemo therapy.”

“Oh, they sound better. I
don’t want to lose my leg.”

“Listen. Go home tonight,
Rebecca. I don’t want you to get too upset right now. We don’t know how serious
it is yet—or even
if
it’s serious at all.”

“It’s cancer—that’s
serious.”

“I meant that it might be
something that we can treat successfully without causing you much distress.”

Becca smirked. “I’m already distressed,
doctor. You have a lump growing in your leg that’s eating away at your bone and
you try not to be distressed.”

VI

“Are you okay, honey?” Mary
asked after they had been in the car for a full ten minutes, riding in silence.

“No, Mom, I’m not. I
can’t believe this.”

Mary turned in her seat
to face Becca. She reached and took her daughter’s hand and held it tightly but
gently. “Please, honey, try not to get dejected.”

“How would you feel if
you had cancer?”

“We don’t know for sure
if it
is
cancer.”

Becca rubbed the lump on
her leg. She thought of Bert rubbing it; thought of his concern. She sighed
heavily and fought tears. “Just when things were coming together,” she mumbled.

“What’s that, honey?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, I asked Greg to come
over this evening. I thought you might want to see him.”

“Well I don’t.”

“Why not? I’m sure you
could use his companionship right about now.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Becca looked out the
window.

“Honey,” her mother
patted her hand, “don’t push people away from you, now especially.”

“I don’t need to see
him.”

“Why don’t you want to
see him?”

“I said I didn’t
need
to
see him.”

“He’s your boyfriend,
he’s concerned about you.”

She smirked. “Yeah, some
boyfriend.”

“What do you mean by
that?” Bill asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been acting
strange lately. And you and Greg don’t seem to be together as much.”

“We’re busy.”

“No,
you’re
busy. I
don’t think he is.”

Becca said nothing.

“Is there someone else?”

Becca said nothing.

“What does that mean,
your silence?”

“Bill, let’s not talk
about this now,” Mary said.

“I
knew
there was
something going on. You’ve got another boyfriend is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it. I’m
madly in love with someone else.”

“Don’t be sarcastic,”
Bill said.

“You asked, I answered.”

“She’s just upset, Bill,”
Mary said, “please, let’s not
talk
about this.”

“Greg doesn’t meet your
high standards?”

“He doesn’t meet my
needs
,”
she said.

“Your needs? Which ones
are those? Wait let me guess. This other person does? Is that it?”

“Bill,
please.”

“It doesn’t matter, Becky.
Greg is your boyfriend. He’s coming over tonight and you’re going to talk to
him.”

At home, Becca went up to
her room. She pulled out the paper with Bert’s number and dialed it. Carol told
her that Bert was working.

“I’ll stop by and see him
at the station.”

“What’s wrong?” Carol
asked.

“Nothing…really.”

“Okay, honey. I hope to
see you soon.”

A knock on her door made
Becca hang up the phone quickly.

“Becky,” Mary’s voice
floated through the door, “may I come in?”

Becca grabbed her purse
and answered the door.

“Where are you going?”
her mother asked.

“Out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just out, Mom.”

“You…you really need to
take it easy.”

“Do I? I don’t remember Doctor
London telling me to take it easy. I’m not an invalid. At least not now.”

“Your father isn’t going
to like this.”

“I don’t care, really I
don’t.”

“Greg’s coming over for
dinner.”

“I’ll be back for
dinner.”

She went downstairs. Bill
was on the phone when she headed for the door.

“Who were you talking to
just now?” he asked.

“I was talking to a
friend’s mom.”

“Carol? Which friend’s
mother is that?” She walked past him and he followed her to the door. “I want
to know what’s going on. You’re meeting someone.”

“So what if I am?”

“Goddammit don’t you defy
me,” Bill pointed his finger at her, stabbing the air.

Becca said nothing and hurried to her car.
Pulling away from the curb, she wiped away the tears that had formed.

VII

Bert watched Becca pull
into the station and park next to the building.

Becca walked in the door
and engulfed him in her arms, nearly knocking him over. She buried her face
against his chest. “It’s cancer, Josh. God
dammit
it’s
cancer.”

“What?” He thought he had
misunderstood her.

“Cancer,” she said
through a sigh.

Bert put his arms around
her and she snuggled against him. They swayed slightly, as if dancing. “I’m
sorry
,
Becca.” It was all he could manage.

“Bone cancer,” Becca said.
“How did I get bone cancer? How the
hell
did I
get
it?”

He felt her hold on him
tighten; he felt her hot breath through his shirt. Her perfume mingled with the
aroma of gasoline. He continued to hold her. He could not betray his fear,
though he saw hers. “Something you ate?”

Her muffled laugh raised
his spirits, and he felt her hold relax slightly. “That’s a good one, Josh.”

A car horn sounded and
Bert said, “I have to take care of the customer.”

Becca slid away from him.
“Sure.”

He went out, serviced the
car, and was back inside in a couple of minutes.

Becca lifted her short
skirt to show him the bruise. “This…this
thing
might be cancer.” She
stared at it, as if it was something that had attached itself to her and she
had no way of knowing how it had gotten there. “
Cancer
for God’s sake.”

“So they’re not
sure
?”

“The biopsy will tell. I’m
going into the hospital tomorrow morning and the doc’s going to slice me open
tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be out on Thursday.” She smirked. “I might not have a
leg
but I’ll be out on Thursday.”

“How are you going to be
out on Friday if he takes your leg?”

“Oh,
God,
Josh, do
you
really
think if I had my
leg
cut off on Thursday that I’d be
out on
Friday?
Are you stupid? Oh, gee, sorry. I’m just upset. Not that
I have any reason to be. I don’t
know
if I’m going to lose my leg. The
doctor said I don’t have to—depending on how bad it is. But I do know I’m going
to have to go through radiation or chemicals or something if he
doesn’t
take
it.”

“That’s not so bad is
it?”

“I’ll lose my hair.”

“It’ll grow back.”

“I’ll throw up all the
time.”

“You can carry a bucket
with you.”

“I’ll be skin and bones.”

“You’re too fat right
now.”

“You’ve got an answer for
everything.”

“Yes.”

She leaned forward,
touching his face with her hands. She smiled, though her eyes lacked their
usual luster. “I can’t believe I waste my time with you, you smart aleck.”

“I’ve got better things
to do myself. But every time I want to do them, you show up and screw up my
plans.”

Her smile lingered and
for a moment the luster was back in her eyes as she stared at him, but then her
smiled faded and she said, “I’m scared.”

“I would be scared too,
Becca.”

She turned her head at
the sound of a horn. “You have a customer.”

“Yes,” Bert said and
patted her leg. Then his fingertips gently stroked the bruise. “I wish,” he
said, looking at her leg as if speaking to it, “right now, touching it I could
make it go away.”

For the first time, Becca
saw in Bert’s eyes the look of worry and something else—sadness. She reached
out and let her fingertips brush his cheek. “Me too, Josh.”

“Maybe I should try
kissing it.”

“That won’t help me,
either.”

“No, but it would do
me
a world of good.”

She giggled.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He
smiled and went out.

“I love you, Bertram
Martin.”

Bert stopped, turned, and
stuck his head in the door. “What did you say?”

She shook her head and
shrugged. “Nothing.”

He went to the car, and
was back in five minutes.

Becca had her skirt hiked
up and she was looking at her leg. “It’s a shame to lose it.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“It’s a nice leg, isn’t
it?”

“It’s a leg. I’ve told
you before, a leg is a leg.”

“I want to talk to you
when I’m in the hospital, okay? I’ll call you and give you my room number.”

“Sure.”

He leaned against the
wall opposite her, looking down, and Becca thought he was staring at her legs,
and she was going to make a comment about that when he raised his eyes to hers
and she saw a look she did not like.

“What’s wrong, Josh?”

He sighed heavily as if
taking a break from carrying a heavy burden. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“I’m not going to like
what you’re going to say, am I.”

“I’ve been drafted.”

“Really? By which team?”
Bert did not crack a smile. “Oh, dear. You got
drafted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, like you had a
choice in the matter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” She
covered her leg again. “So…when?”

“Three weeks. But
Sergeant James wants me to enlist so I can choose my job and maybe avoid
Vietnam.”

“Maybe avoid it? You’re
not sure? Are you guaranteed to go to Vietnam if you’re drafted?”

“Sergeant James seems to
think I am.”

“What’s he know? He’s a
recruiter. It’s his job to scare you into enlisting.”

“Either way, I’m going
into the Army.”

“For how long?”

“Two years if I’m
drafted.”

She looked down. “Wow, I
don’t know who had the worst news.” She shook her head. “What a fucked up
day—oh, sorry. But it’s really been a bad day. First, my cancer and now you
telling me you’re going into the Army. What next?” She heaved a great sigh. “It’s
too bad you’re working right now. I’d say let’s go for coffee.”

“I wish I could leave,
too.”

“I’m on my way somewhere
right now, but can I come back this evening?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll come by and pick
you up after work?”

“I’ll be in the restaurant
next door.”

“Okay.”She grabbed her
leg. Bert held her hand to steady her. “Goddammit,” she said.

He opened her door for
her and helped her into the car.

She rested her hand on
the back of his for a moment. “I’m glad I know you.”

“I feel the same way.”

VIII

“How did you get it?”
Greg asked, staring at Becca’s leg as they sat on the porch.

“Probably something I
ate,” she said with a sad, whimsical smile.

“What?”

“Never mind. It just
appeared.
And stop looking at it like it’s contagious or something.”

“Sorry.”

They sat silently for a
couple of minutes.

“Becca,” Greg said,
“you’re crying?”

She shook her head and
dabbed at her eyes.

Greg hugged her. She
melted into his arms as she always did. “You’re going to be all right. The
doctors will get rid of the cancer.”

She shrugged. She used
his shirt to wipe her eyes.

He kissed the top of her
head. He loved the smell and feel of her hair.

“I’m worried,” she said.

“I know you are.”

“And you’re leaving in
January and Josh…he’ll be leaving before then.’