Life On the Refrigerator Door (3 page)

I didn’t say that I didn’t like Michael. I haven’t even met him—and that’s a concern in itself, by the way. I was saying that I was worried about you jumping back in when he seems a little unpredictable. I was saying that I don’t like the way he’s treated you, which is a reasonable thing to say.

Try not to come home not too late tonight.

Mom.

I came home and you WEREN’T HERE, Mom. Nothing strange there then, because you’re never home, right? Then I get your note on the fridge. If you were here, I’d say this to you, but BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT HERE, I HAVE TO WRITE IT DOWN! Michael’s great. He’s funny and smart and cute and he’s there when I need him, which is more than I can say about you. Or Dad. And talking about Dad, I don’t think I need relationship advice from you, Mom!

I’m sick of being sensible. I’m going to stay the night at Emma’s.

C

I’ve had to go for the radiation therapy and then in to work for a couple of hours, they couldn’t do without me. I think it’s very unfair to say I haven’t been here when you’ve needed me.

Be here when I get home.

Mom.

I’m staying the night at Emma’s again.

Claire

Claire,

What’s the point of you having a cell phone if you never switch it on? I had to call Emma’s house and her mother said you weren’t there. I’ve been worried sick. Where were you?

I’ve called school and they’ve said that you’re in your English class. At least I know you’re alive. Do you know how ashamed I was to have to tell the receptionist that I was looking for my daughter because I wasn’t sure if she was at school? You’re out of control, Claire, and I really hope that you didn’t spend the night with Michael.

Because I know that you’re alive, I’m going to work. Work which pays for all the food we eat and all the clothes we wear and the roof over our heads.

If you’re not home when I get home, which will be at 7pm, then you’ll be grounded, Claire. I’ll treat you like a little girl if you continue to act like one. Empty the dishwasher when you get in.

Mom.

I’ve gone to Dad’s. I didn’t spend the night at Michael’s. Trust you to think the worst.

Claire

I love you, Claire, but you’re behaving in a way I can’t tolerate.

I spoke to your father last night and he said that you were coming to the house to pick up some things because you’re staying with him. I can’t believe you’re doing this, Claire. Running to your father to deal with our conflict is very disappointing and very childish, which proves my point that you’re too young to be seeing anyone seriously.

Michael called twice this evening. What’s going on with you?

Mom.

I’ll be at Dad’s if you need me.

Claire

Dad and I are going to Grandpa’s for the night. I came by to pick up some stuff.

Claire

Mom,

I watched a DVD last night for the families of someone who has breast cancer (Emma got it for me from the library). This is hard to write, but I think we need to talk about this more. Dad said maybe we’ve been fighting so much because we haven’t been talking enough. I’m not sure if I should be worrying about you or if I should be just getting on with my life. You’re making out like it’s no big deal so maybe I should be doing that too.

Am I making too much of it all, Mom? I’m staying here tonight.

Claire

Claire,

There isn’t a book with rules written in to tell me how to live my life or how to handle all this. I wish there was.

You have school, and a relationship, and things to do that any normal fifteen-year-old should be doing. When this is all better, we can go back to how things were.

I’m glad you’ve decided to spend some time at home. I’ve just gone for a walk by the river. Let’s talk when I get back.

Love,
Mom.

Is there something I don’t know, Mom? You seemed distracted last night. I’m sorry about all the fights we’ve had.

Mom,

Please talk to me.

Claire

I just can’t, Claire. I’m sorry but I just can’t. Be patient.

Mom.

Dearest Claire,

If I get sicker, then I want you to go and live with your father. It’s not that I don’t love you. Please don’t ever think that.

Love,
Mom.

Mom,

I’m shaking as I write this. I’ve just walked into an empty house—none of the lights were on. The kitchen was empty and I see a note stuck to the fridge door with that magnet I gave you—the one with a picture of me as a baby on it. Did you realize when you wrote your last note that you’d used it?

I noticed the plant in the corner, the cactus which almost reaches the ceiling. I don’t remember it being so tall. And then I read your note.

People get better from this all the time. I’m really trying to be strong for you, but you have to remember you’ll be OK, Mom—you have to be. You’ll be OK.

Claire

Mom,

I just found your letter to me in the garbage. Why did you throw it away? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? Is it really bad?

I’m sorry that we’ve been fighting so much. Are you OK?

Claire

Claire,

I’ll be home at around 6 tonight. When you get this note, perhaps you could just wait for me.

How could I tell you? I’ve hardly begun thinking about getting better and other things start going on. It doesn’t normally happen like this—I know, I’ve seen women go through it. And then you weren’t here because we were having a stupid disagreement. Oh, Claire, I’ve been so foolish about this whole thing. Your note the other week, the one when you told me you’d just watched the DVD for families of breast cancer sufferers, do you know that I wept for an hour after reading that? Do you know that this is the first time I’ve really admitted to myself that I have breast cancer? Me, I have breast cancer. I really do. And it’s not getting better.

I’ve been too weak to admit that I need you. I didn’t want this to interfere with your life, I didn’t want you to have to change what you were doing or stop being my little girl.

I don’t want your Dad to know about this development. Not just yet. Not until I get my feet back on the ground.

I love you,
Mom.       

I found a book for you, Mom. It’s poetry by other survivors. Perhaps you’d like to write some poetry or paint or do something creative. It might be good for you. I know it’s weird right now, but we should be hopeful, right? That’s what the book says.

You’re so strong. Even as a little girl I knew that you were the strongest out of all the moms, and the fastest. Do you remember you always used to run the fastest on school sports days?

You were twenty-eight when you had me. I wonder what you were like when you were fifteen. I wonder if we would have been friends at school. I bet we would.

Summer seems to have snuck up on us. It’s sunny today. The sun is filling the kitchen and it makes me more hopeful. I know you’ll be fine, Mom. I just know it.

I love you and I’m sorry about the last month and all that stuff with Michael. I’m sorry I went to stay with Dad. I don’t know what came over me. It seems so silly now.

I’ll be home at five. I made coffee. Decaffeinated!

I do think we should tell Dad what’s going on. And Gina.

C

Thanks for the book, darling.
I’ve gone to lie down.

Mom.

—Could you take the garbage out?

I’ll call at lunchtime. Two more weeks of school! Then it’s SUMMER!!!!

C. (I need some flip-flops!)

How did it go at the doctor’s today, Mom? I wish you’d let me come with you. I called but you weren’t home. I’m hoping that you went for a long drive and that they just have it all wrong.

I’m in the yard with Peter. Sitting in the sun. Feeling strange.

Claire

I came in and I read your note and I went to the back door and I looked at you in the yard and I couldn’t tell you, Claire. How can I tell you that life isn’t as good as it should be? I’ll fight this thing. I’ll fight it. But I can’t get up the strength to tell you face-to-face what the doctor said. I’m sorry.

I’m lying down.

Mom.

You looked so small in your room last night, Mom. Oh, God, I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t understand how everything has happened so quickly. I thought that everything would be fine. I thought that this only happened to other people. I have a friend at school whose grandmother survived. She ate lots of broccoli and did lots of exercise. Like you do. You’ll be fine. AND YOU’RE MUCH YOUNGER THAN MY FRIEND’S GRANDMOTHER!!!!!!

I believe in you, Mom. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you at noon.

Claire

When you get in, Claire, call your Dad’s cell. He’s going to drive you to meet me at the doctor’s. We have to talk about this together, all of us.

I’m not sure that you believing in me is going to fix this, Claire-Bear, and perhaps neither is broccoli or exercise. I’m sorry, darling. Let’s all listen to the doctor together and work something out.

Love,
Mom.

We can’t give up hope, Mom. Lots of people recover from this. And think of all the things you still have left to do! All those babies to deliver. Me to look after.

The surgery and the chemo will help. You’ll get better, I know it.

Broccoli and exercise this evening. We’ll walk along the river together. We can look at those pink flowers that you like—what are they called? We can stand at the edge of the water and watch the sun tumbling down. I’ll hold your hand through this, Mom. See you at 4?

Love and hugs,
Claire              

All right, Claire. I just have to get something from Nicole. And, yes, I will tell her that we need some help.

A walk will be lovely. Exercise and broccoli. As you say, darling.

Mom.

Could you get some bread and milk, please Claire.

Mom.

Emma called.

Mom.

I have to babysit tonight but I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. LAST DAY OF SCHOOL TOMORROW!!!! YAY!!!!! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

C

Claire,
I’ve gone to lie down.
James from school called.

Love,
Mom.

Michael called, sweetheart. He can’t make it tonight. He said to call him.

Hope everything’s OK?

Mom.

Why is this happening to you, Mommy? Why is it happening so fast? Everything was fine at Christmas.

I’m in the back bedroom on the internet trying to understand what the surgery is going to be like. Everything’s fine with Michael. He found me talking about it all a bit depressing, I guess. I shouldn’t have tried to talk to him. He didn’t even know anything anyway!

It doesn’t seem real???? Does it???

Love and hugs,
Claire              

Hi darling,

I can only deal with the facts, Claire. I thought I could go to work
and
deal with the awful radiation therapy. But it was really tough, and I wish I’d talked to you about how terrible it made me feel. I’m not used to being on this side of the doctor’s desk, remember? Doctors are the worst patients.

Then it was taken out of my hands. Because I’m not in control, Claire. I can’t control this, and that’s what’s really frightening.

We should take notes next time we go to the doctor’s. You can be my note taker.

I have to go and rest. I’ll see you later.

I’m ready for tomorrow.

Love,
Mom.

I’ve made you some chicken soup, Mom. How are you feeling?

When you get up, Mom, I’m just in the yard. I’m reading another book of poetry written by other people who’ve been where you are. One writer says that losing a breast makes you feel less of a woman. It’s hard for me to understand because I find it hard to think of you like that, Mom, as the sort of woman who feels like a woman and not like a mom. Does that make any sense? Can you talk to me about these things? I’m trying to be more grown-up but it’s REALLY hard.

I won’t be outside for long and I’ll come and check on you so if you don’t feel like coming to get me, then I promise I’ll be in your room with you soon.

Love and hugs,
Claire              

Morning Mom!

I’ve just gone with Dad to get you a hat (just in case). He said he’d seen a beautiful one but he wanted me to check it out with him.

You’re doing well, Mom. I’m proud of you. You’ll be back at work before you know it—back to your usual self in no time.

Dad thought he might stay around this evening. I hope that’s no problem???

Hugs and love,
Claire              

—I have my key.

I’m sorry I got so angry with you, Claire. I’m doing the best I can. First I have to deal with the aftereffects of the surgery, then I’ll think about the chemo. After that, I can focus on getting better.

Mom.

I’m with Michael—he’s driving me to take back the hat. I’m sorry, Mom. Dad and I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that you still have your hair and that you might not lose it. I was trying to cheer you up.

You’ll feel better soon. There’s still some soup in the fridge.

Claire

Emma and James and I are outside in the yard. They came over to see if they could do anything to help around the house for us. Sweet!!!!

Come and look for us. It might cheer you up to sit in the sun????

Claire

I’m sorry that Emma and James were here, Mom. I thought it would be nice to have some company but I’ll ask next time I want to have friends over, OK?

You look beautiful to me.

Love and hugs,
Claire              

I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t expect to feel so dreadful. I feel a little stronger now but this kind of knocked me for six. At least I’ll only lose my right breast once (that was supposed to be a joke, but it’s not really very funny). It’s nice of you to tell me that I look beautiful. I certainly don’t feel beautiful. I feel like I’m underwater and I can’t work out how to swim to the surface. I’m a bit lost, that’s all. I don’t want you to worry about me.

The chemo starts soon. Maybe you could come with me?

As for my hair, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

Mommy.

When I look at you
I see the woman I want to be
Strong and brave
Beautiful and free