Better Than None (15 page)

“For what it’s worth, I’ve shared more of myself, I’ve been completely
raw and open and honest with you. I get it if that’s not enough... if you can’t
see it. Honestly, I do.” I felt the tears roll down my face and could taste the
salt as I talked. “I know you’re trying, you were trying to make up for last
night. And I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry. Really. I don’t know why I
can’t be normal.”

I couldn’t say anymore. I couldn’t say that it somehow hurt less to
walk away even when someone was trying to show me tenderness or care or
interest. Somehow, it hurt less to walk away from that than to accept it for
fear of them eventually rejecting me. I knew how pathetic that was. I knew if I
stayed that fragile I’d never be with anyone. But that’s what I expected. I
expected to be alone. I never pictured being with someone because that meant
letting my guard down and I already had so much with Brad that it terrified me.

I thought I wanted to try with him, but he wanted too much, too fast.
As I sat there, I thought about a line from a movie that had stuck with me. It
was a movie about teen angst, and I don’t even remember finishing it but the
line stayed in my mind.
You get the love you think you deserve.
I wasn’t
sure if that was true or not. I think maybe I was getting the love, or lack
thereof, that I projected.

It wasn’t surprising that I barely slept that night. I just kept
playing everything over and over again in my head. I tried to stop thinking.
There had been so many times in my life where I would have done anything for an
on/off switch, or really just the off part. Much as I wanted, I couldn’t stop
my brain from going over every single moment, and the more I did, the more I
hated myself.

Barb was asleep when I went to her house in the morning, so I took care
of all the animals and set out a muffin for her for when she woke. But when I
called her on the way in, she told me that she’d been sick all night and
couldn’t get out of bed she was so cold, and it only made me feel even more
hopeless. Most days since this began, I’d been able to focus at work, but
between the night I’d had and then hearing her weak voice, I couldn’t muster
the strength to even fake it at work. Most people knew about what was going on
with my mom and everyone was surprisingly understanding. I popped my head into
Marty’s office and explained that I needed to go take care of her. I didn’t
even ask, nor did I hang around to discuss it. I don’t think I would have cared
if he’d fired me on the spot.

When I got to Barb’s she was lying in bed shivering under a pile of
blankets. I was used to her shaved head, but she’d continued to lose so much
weight that she was starting to look skeletal. She looked so helpless I
literally felt my heart ache as I looked at her. I don’t think I ever truly
knew the meaning of the phrase ‘gut-wrenching’ until this. Watching someone I
loved suffer the way she was must have been the definition. Literally seeing
the life go out of someone bit by bit. A pound or two here, some clumps of hair
there, two days of only mild nausea followed by three days of dry heaves and
uncontrollable diarrhea, random chills and aches, coupled with debilitating
weakness. Watching that happen to a loved one and being completely, utterly
helpless made me feel physically ill.

I tried to get her to eat something but she protested, so I took off my
shoes, slid under the covers, found her hand and held it, stroked it and talked
softly about nothing at all. We passed much of the day like that. Eventually I
got her to eat a little bit, but we stayed in bed looking out at the trees,
drifting in and out of sleep, both of us. She would mumble as she drifted off
and I think it must have been caused by one of the myriad medications she was
on.

As awful as the reason was that I was there with her, it was a really
special day.

“Thank you, honey.” Barb said weakly. We were lying side by side
watching the bluebirds feed at the bird feeder I’d bought her one year. Her
bedroom was in the back corner of the house, so two of her walls were windows.
Her backyard was so green and lush that lying in bed felt like we were outside.

“For what, Ma?”

“For spending the day with me. I know how much time you’re taking off
of work, but it’s been so nice having you here today.” Her eyes welled up.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Than lying in bed with your cancer-rid mother? What am I going to do
with you?”

I didn’t answer her rhetorical question. We had laughed and reminisced
all day and I realized that as much as she played the innocent, a part of her
must have known that her life was ending.

****

At chemo the following week, I wasn’t surprised that Brad was back to
his old self. I only had to admit to myself how much I’d hoped and waited for
him to call, which of course he never did. I didn’t blame him, and it was
easier this way. We had our clearly defined roles and fell back into them all
too easily.

“Barbara, you’ve lost another four pounds since the last time I saw
you.” His tone to her was one of concern.

“I’m sorry, doctor. I just can’t seem to keep anything down. And even
when I can, I just have no appetite.” When she spoke her voice was so soft and
her speech so slow, but he just waited and listened patiently. Until he turned
to me.

“You need to make sure she eats.” He said sternly. Gone was the
concern. It was like he was lashing out at me.

“I try to,
doctor
.” I emphasized his title, pissed he was
chastising me. “But I can’t be there every minute.”

“Then perhaps you should consider getting in-home help if you can’t
care for her the way she needs to be cared for.” He glared at me and I tried not
to wither under it and glare right back. He wasn’t wrong, but he was being
mean. As was true with so many conversations, it wasn’t what he was saying, but
how he said it.

I was surprised when Barb came to my defense. “Doctor, you have no idea
how much Stephy does for me. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s there
every morning and every evening. She’s doing everything she can.” She smiled at
me and I returned it as I reached out for her hand. He might have been able to
be a dick to me, but at least he wouldn’t take it out on her.

“Well, Barbara, it sounds like you’re very fortunate to have such a
caring daughter. Not everyone in your shoes has a loved one to take care of
them.” He was soft and conciliatory until he spoke next. “But you may need more
than she’s able to give.” And when he said that, he was looking directly at me.
It wasn’t hard to figure out his inference went way beyond the conversation at
hand.

“Oh, doctor, you have no idea how much love my Stephy has to give.” I
couldn’t believe my mom said that. Once again, he looked right at me when he
answered her.

“You’re right, Barbara, I have no idea.”

Thankfully, Barb was oblivious, but I got his message loud and clear.

“And I don’t want a stranger in my house. I promise I’ll try to eat more.
Don’t be mad at her. She’s doing so much for me already.”

“Ok, Barbara. I’ll try not to be mad at Stephanie.” He said to me and
then finally turned to her. “But then you need to eat. You can’t keep losing
weight. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try. You’ve got to keep up your
strength.”

He nodded and then moved onto his next patient. I wished I hadn’t been
so disappointed when he didn’t ask me to come back to his office, but I was. I
didn’t blame him for giving up on me when I already had.

Just then, I noticed Sherri talking with the nurses. She made her way
over, bundled up in a cable knit sweater, leggings and boots, dressed for
winter when it was probably mid-70s outside. We smiled at each other and then
she motioned to the chair next to us.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked.

“Belly up to the chemo bar!” I said and she laughed. “Now that you’re
here, it’s happy hour.”

“Oh lord, if that’s true then it means that he’s the bartender!” Sherri
said motioning to Brad. “I don’t think he’d have any customers if he were the
one listening to everyone’s sob stories. Can you imagine?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, his bedside manner can be questionable.”

“Could be good for business. Could drive them to drink.”

Obviously I wasn’t the only patient who’d been on the receiving end of
Brad’s cold side. Once she got settled and after the nurse had started her IV,
we started talking again.

“How are you doing, today?” I asked.

“Today? Right now, actually I’m ok. I’m trying to screw up my strength
to go wig shopping after this actually.”

Barb was already dozing off. I’d been bugging her about getting a wig.
I thought the more “normal” she looked, the more normal she’d feel, even if it
was just looking in the mirror and seeing herself with hair.

“I might be overstepping, but if I can convince my mom to go, would you
like some company?” I asked.

Sherri’s expression melted and she got tears in her eyes.
“Overstepping? You have no idea how much I’d love your company!” She paused and
regained her composure. “My friends have wanted to take me, but it’s just not
the same. It’s so hard to try to share this with someone who’s not going
through it. Unless it’s someone like you, I mean. Even though you don’t have
cancer, you’re so close to it, well, you get it.”

I nodded. “I think unfortunately I do.”

Sherri got a big grin. “I really hope your mom’s up for it!”

“Me too. I’ll nudge.”

Both Sherri and I opened our laptops and did our respective work or
whatever for the rest of the session. When ours was finished, I floated the
idea by my mom and she instantly lit up.

“Oooh! What a lovely idea! It’s a date!” Barb said and Sherri grinned.

“I’ve just got a few more minutes left. There’s a really good wig store
just a few miles from here on Main street. I could meet you there.” Sherri
offered.

“Don’t be silly. Parking’s always impossible there. Stephy will drive.
You’ll come with us!” Barb said as only a Jewish mother could, though instead
of sounding pushy, it seemed Sherri was perfectly happy with Barb’s plan.

As the three of us walked out together, Barb and Sherri comparing notes
about the chemo, its side effects and their respective experiences, I saw Brad
talking with another patient. I couldn’t quite make out his expression when he
saw us, but with him it was often hard to tell.

I hadn’t seen my mom this animated since before her diagnosis. It
seemed having someone to commiserate with really helped. She was still weak and
moved so slowly, but she was smiling and talking like she used to. It was great
to see.

Once at the store, Sherri pulled out her driver’s license to show us
what she looked like with hair. Even in a driver’s license photo, she was
stunning. Long, thick blond hair, a big grin and makeup. I tried to hide my
shock when I saw it. The difference was startling. It wasn’t just the hair and
eyebrows, it was how healthy she looked in the photo.

If I weren’t with two cancer patients shopping for wigs, it would have
been like three women out shopping. Ooohs and aaahhs and giggles over the
different wigs that we all tried, including me. And the saleswoman was
wonderful. It was obvious that many of her customers were women going through
chemo. She didn’t flinch or stare when my mom and Sherri removed their scarves,
she simply started bringing over different wigs based on their coloring and
head shape. In the end, my mom got two, a light brown and a dark brown bob.
Sherri got one that looked almost exactly like the hair in her photo and I
liked it so much I got the exact same one. I always thought it would be fun to
be blond.

Sherri wore hers out. “I feel like I look half-way human.” She rolled
her eyes, “I am so sick of being looked at like a cancer patient. It’s like
when people look at me, that’s all they can see!”

I understood as much as I could without having walked in her shoes.

On the drive back, my mom started feeling queasy, and I hoped that I’d
be able to get her home before she got sick.

“At first, it hit me the second day after a session. Then it was the
day after. Now, it’s usually later that night.” Sherri said. My mom just
nodded. After being so exuberant, the change was startling, but Sherri
obviously understood.

“Sherri, are you going to be ok getting yourself home?” I asked as I
pulled up to her car.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve got this down.” I think she said more for
my comfort than anything.

“Well, what’s your cell?” I asked and before she could protest, I
added, “I’ll call you so that you have my number. And if you need anything,
seriously, anything… I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

She nodded and read it to me. I punched it in and heard it ring just to
make sure it was right. Before she got out, she reached between the two front
seats and took both of our hands into hers. “Ladies, this is the most fun I’ve
had since I started with this crap! Thank you! I’ll see you next week.” We
squeezed each other’s hands and I couldn’t help but get a little misty. I watched
and waited as she slowly walked to her car and got in. Once I saw the brake
lights, I pulled away wondering if Sherri had anyone to help her. Granted, she
was a lot younger than my mom, and hers was breast cancer. I didn’t pry, but I
assumed she’d get through this, that hers was curable and localized. Still, I
hoped she’d call to take me up on my offer of help.

Once I got Barb settled and was back home, I texted Sherri.

Had a great time this afternoon. So did Barb. It really helped pick
up her spirits. Thank you.

I immediately got a text back.

Me too! Thank you both for going with me. Couldn’t have done it
without you. See you next week at the Chemo bar!
J

Woo hoo. Happy hour!  And my offer stands, if there’s anything
you need, please call.

Thanks, Steph. You and your mom are good people.

****

Two weeks had passed and I had to stop myself multiple times from going
to his hotel bars and hoping to run into Brad. I settled for seeing him at my
mom’s appointments. The man needed a decoder to figure out what his expressions
meant. As someone who tried to play her cards close to her vest, he was playing
them closer. It wasn’t that he didn’t have tells, it was just that I had no
idea what each scowl, frown, furrowed brow or clenched jaw meant. I tried not to
overthink it but I still couldn’t get the damn man out of my mind. I knew the
ball was in my court. I’d rebuffed him and didn’t expect him to come running
after me. I wanted him to, but knew that this wasn’t a romance novel and he
wouldn’t keep coming after me no matter how much I pushed him away. As an
artist, I desperately wanted life to imitate art, but as a pragmatist, or more
accurately, a defeatist, I knew better.

While the relationship, or whatever it had been with Brad, had
seemingly ended, the friendship with Sherri blossomed. The wig shopping changed
things and when we saw her the following week, the three of us didn’t stop
talking. After that, in between sessions, she and I texted and sent each other
funny emails and links and I finally convinced her to let me pick her up and
take her to her appointment since I was already taking my mom, they were at the
same time, and she was on the way. For the first time since high school, I felt
like I was making a friend.