“There’s logic there. That’s how a lot of the government agencies do it but I don’t even have a degree.”
“Yeah, that was something else I was thinking about but let’s save that for another time.”
“But Sarah, these companies are looking to hire an employee, not a contractor.”
“They say they are, but how many times have they told you the position you applied for was being removed? It’s likely they still need the work to get done, but they just have to reduce their overhead costs. Maybe they’re just scared to make a long term commitment. Contractors are a lot cheaper to the bottom line than employees.”
Stephen started to grasp where she was going, “Contractors don’t get benefits and when the work is over they don’t have to continue paying a salary.”
“Exactly! It might still be better than unemployment benefits.” Sarah continued talking while placing frozen foods into the freezer.
“You’ve got a point there.”
“With all the time you’ve spent selling yourself and looking for a job, you can shift that and instead spend that time selling your services to companies you already know.”
“Self-employment?”
“Better than no-employment?” Sarah lifted a bottle of red wine out of a brown paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“Just a little something to go along with dinner.”
“Sounds to me like I have a new job and probably need to spend some time working.” Stephen was a bit shocked at how excited he was at this new prospect.
“Well then. I suppose you’ll have a working dinner tonight.” With a fingertip Sarah tapped the maroon bottle, “We’ll just call this little bottle of Merlot an investment in your creative thinking.”
Stephen’s mind sifted beyond his previous expectations and he took off down the hallway. Rebecca and Tom reentered the house, dropped off some more bags and swiftly exited through the back door. Rebecca gently lifted her husband’s sore legs to a comfortable position on the back patio recliner. Tom had always enjoyed sitting outside to enjoying the beauty of his surroundings. Rebecca came back inside and connected with Sarah, “I’m going to head out in about ten to fifteen minutes to get Hailey from school. Dad’s just going to sit out back and enjoy this nice day.”
Sarah came around the kitchen counter and hugged Rebecca, “Thank you for everything today. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you.”
“You’re doing great, my dear. Now, when I get back, we’ll start searing those steaks like we were talking about earlier.”
The phone rang and Stephen called out, “Sarah. Darling? Would you mind getting that? I’m in a bit of a position right now.”
Sarah glanced down the hallway and saw the attic ladder with the lower half of a man extending somewhat frantically out of the ceiling.
“Hon… what are you doing?”
Stephen’s voice echoed through the hallway, “I’m trying to find that gray box with the fancy writing on it. I’m looking to find those nice wine glasses your old boss gave us at our wedding.”
“Sure, I’ll get the phone.” Sarah turned from the hallway and back into the kitchen, winking at Rebecca as she passed by and whispering, “Wine glasses from our wedding.” Rebecca responded with a sneaky smile and an encouraging thumbs up.
Sarah gleaned a seductive smile towards the dangling legs in the hallway as she answered the phone, “Hello. This is Mrs. Lantz.”
Mile 17
Rules exist for a reason. Stephen knew this as an undeniable truth. Rules maintained order and order guided progress. In business, Stephen knew there were rules. Typically these rules were clear cut and straightforward. Whether it was for a single company or an entire economy, rules existed to keep things orderly and to guide industry’s progress. In war, Stephen had rules of engagement he was under and he understood why they existed. His enemy might not conform to those rules but he still had to follow them. In their own vile way, Stephen could see the enemy had built their own version of order and progress, even if it was simply to disrupt these very orders of progress his rules were designed to preserve. So too, in marriage there were rules. They may be more complex than in industry or war, but Stephen felt confident it was still about order and progress being maintained.
Cancer was an exception. Cancer was a ruthless bastard which cared nothing for rules or for order; its core purpose was deterioration. Regardless of who it struck, cancer was always crude and inhumane with complexities so far off the charts it was impossible to understand. There was no order. There was no progress. No overall redeeming objective for cancer.
Despite the constant warnings over the past three years, anytime the word remission came into discussion it inevitably created a false hope for every member of the Lantz family. Stephen and Sarah had seen the monster recoil and seemingly leave their daughter, forever in their hopeful hearts. Initially, the days following Hailey’s checkups were an anxious time spent waiting for results. After several encouraging reports, the checkups became routine and eventually, particularly as they had became less frequent over the past several months, the Lantz family began to see her periodic checkups as just a routine formality.
During Hailey’s last checkup only two weeks prior, Sarah had been entirely convinced that the beast had been defeated, and the thought of its return was something she would not even allow to enter her mind. Even when the doctor became a bit concerned at a reading he took and asked her to bring Hailey back the following week to draw some samples, she wasn’t overly concerned. Sarah absolutely expected the tests to come back negative; she just knew they would.
When the phone call from the oncologist was over, instead of hanging up the phone, Sarah drew her hands to her chest and tried to breathe, failing to take in a full breath. Stephen had arrived halfway through the phone call, placed a faded gray box on the counter’s edge and stood next to his wife. With one arm on her shoulder, he gently placed his other hand on the phone and gradually pulled it from her grasp. Unfeeling of his own physical movements, he calmly and steadily replaced it onto the charging station.
Stephen gripped the kitchen counter and stared into the blankness of the off-white sink. He couldn’t decide whether to be angry or crushed. The only thing preventing him from screaming was the overwhelming urge to sob. Instead, he stood with his fingers nearly penetrating the solid counter top. Had the counter been made of a softer laminate he would have crushed through the grain and ripped out the sink. This would have been followed by him hurling the sink through the roof, punching out each double-pane window and smashing his foot through every piece of drywall in the house. Much to his disappointment, the Corian counter top held firm in its place.
Shifting between speaking way too fast and then stopping for long pauses to breath, cough, and cry, Sarah did her best to recount the conversation to Stephen. He stood, patience stretched beyond parameters of reason, trying to collect as much information as he could. Through her tears he latched on to key phrases like, “needs to be admitted to the hospital” and “will have to consider surgery.” He wasn’t sure how much was missed between his wife’s struggling report and the clouding of his own mind before Sarah dragged herself to the dining room and found a chair to collapse into.
Stephen looked to the dining room where his wife continued to cry. Rebecca had returned and blanketed both arms around Sarah. He saw the tears flowing from her eyes as well. He watched as Rebecca wiped her own cheeks before clenching Sarah’s hands into her own. They both bowed their heads and Rebecca began to pray out loud. “Dear heavenly father. We come before you…”