“Will you be back in time for Miss Tilly's on Friday?” she asked with huge green eyes, as Alex fought to maintain her composure.
“I'll try, sweetheart, I promise,” she said hoarsely, clinging to her little girl and praying nothing terrible would happen. Maybe Dr. Herman was wrong, and she'd be lucky. Being with Annabelle made her feel so vulnerable and so frightened. “Will you be a good girl and have a nice time with Daddy and Carmen? I'm really going to miss you.” More than she'd ever know, Alex thought, choking on tears, but she was doing this to save her life, both the biopsy and whatever came later. She wanted to be there for Annabelle for a long time. Forever.
“Why are you going, Mommy?” Annabelle asked sadly. It was as though she sensed that there was more than Alex was saying.
“Because I have to. For work.” But even to her own ears, she didn't sound convincing.
“You work too much,” Annabelle said softly. “I'll take care of you when I'm big, Mommy. I promise.” She was so sweet, and Alex didn't want to leave her. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving her the next morning and she clung to her for a long time before finally turning off the light, and going to make dinner for herself and Sam.
But she was so nervous, she was nauseous. All she could think of was what she was about to go through. And Sam stayed well away from the subject all through dinner. He went to read some reports afterwards and Alex went back to check on Annabelle. She lay next to the sleeping child for a little while, she just wanted to feel her curls against her cheek, and feel her breathing softly before she left her. And then she stood watching her from the doorway. She looked like a little angel, asleep in her bed, and Alex walked back into her own bedroom, praying for a miracle at the hospital the next morning. All she wanted was her life, even if it cost her a breast to keep it.
Sam was asleep in front of the TV when she slipped into their bed. He had had a hard week too, with a large group of Arab investors visiting from Saudi. But he had scarcely said a word, and certainly not a kind or encouraging one, to Alex about the morning. It was impossible not to be angry at him. She lay next to him for an hour, wanting to talk to him, but when he finally stirred, he just pulled off his jeans and his T-shirt, and slipped into bed, without really waking.
“Sam? …” she said softly, wanting to wake him, to talk to him, to be near him, even to make love to him, but he was a million miles away now, and oblivious to her problem.
“Hmmm …?”
“Are you sleeping?” It was obvious that he was, but she didn't want him to. But he was beyond rousing. “I love you,” she said, as she lay looking at him. But he didn't hear her. He didn't hear anything. He was far away, in his own world. Too much so to help his wife, or to accept what was happening to her. He was just too afraid to deal with it, and she knew that. But she had never felt as lonely in her life. In his own way, he had deserted her completely.
And when she went to the bathroom before she went to sleep, she discovered what she had prayed wouldn't happen. She had gotten her period, in spite of their attempts two weeks before, and the hormones she had taken. There would be only a biopsy, and possibly surgery. There would be no baby.
Chapter 5
Alex woke at six the next day, and prowled around the house for a little while, wishing it were a different morning. She started a pot of coffee for Sam, set out the breakfast things, and looked at Annabelle, sleeping soundly. Sam was still asleep too, and it was so odd looking at both of them, knowing she'd be gone soon, for a few hours, or a few days, to win or lose a battle that could take her away from them forever. It was unthinkable, as she stood staring into Annabelle's room. How could she ever leave her little girl? What would happen to them? She couldn't begin to fathom what was about to happen to her that morning.
She was careful not to eat or drink anything, although she longed for a cup of coffee, and as she brushed her teeth, she suddenly found she had to fight back tears. There was an overwhelming urge to run away, to hide from all of it, but there was no hiding now from the treachery of her own body. Instead, she stood up and looked at herself, with tears running down her cheeks, her toothbrush in her hand, as she stared into the mirror. She set the toothbrush down and dropped the straps on her nightgown. The silky gown fell easily to the floor without a sound, and she stood looking at herself, the small firm breasts that she had always taken for granted. The left was a fraction larger than the right, and she remembered suddenly with a smile that Annabelle had always preferred it to the other when she nursed her. She couldn't help but appreciate the symmetry of her breasts, and the long, graceful lines of her body. She had long legs, a small waist, she had always had a good figure and never thought much about it. And what would happen now? Who would she be, if she lost the breast today? Would she be someone else? Would she be so hideously deformed that Sam would no longer want her? She had wanted to talk about it with him, to hear him say that he didn't care if she had one breast or two. She needed to hear the words, but he hadn't been able to face even the idea of it, and he had told her all week that nothing was wrong with her and she was being morbid.
And now, she stood looking at herself, and she cried as she realized what might happen to her. She couldn't even imagine it. A breast was a small price to pay for a life, if it came to that, but she didn't want to lose it either. She didn't want to be deformed, or look like a man, or have reconstructive surgery. She didn't want any of it. And most of all, she didn't want to lose her breast, or have cancer.
“Hi,” Sam said sleepily, as he walked past her to the shower. She hadn't seen him come in, and he didn't seem to notice that she was crying. She turned away from him self-consciously, as though there were already something ugly about her, and covered herself with a towel. “You're up early.” What a surprise. Fancy that! The way he said it made her want to hit him. All the understanding he had ever had for her seemed to have vanished in less than two weeks of total denial.
“I'm having surgery today,” she reminded him in a constricted voice, as he turned on the shower.
“You're having a biopsy. Let's not get too dramatic.”
“When are you going to wake up?” she snapped at him. “When are you going to face this thing? After I lose the breast, or not even then? Is this so goddamn threatening that you can't reach out to me for a single moment?” He needed to hear it from her, needed to know how badly he was letting her down, but he couldn't face that either. He stepped into the shower without looking at her, and said something she couldn't hear as she stared at him in renewed amazement. She took two long steps over to him, and yanked back the shower curtain, until they were both soaking wet and she looked at him in complete fury. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said you're being melodramatic.” He looked both embarrassed and annoyed at her, as she stood there looking very wet and very beautiful and his body acknowledged her with an erection. But they hadn't made love once since she'd had the results of the mammogram. They had done nothing at all since “blue day.” First, she'd had the trial, and now she was dealing with the trauma of possibly having cancer. And he had made no overtures to her either. He was trying to avoid her.
“I think you're being a sonofabitch, Sam Parker. I don't give a damn if you're having trouble coping with this, so am I. And it's happening to me, not you. You could at least be there for me. Is that so much to ask? Is that so difficult for you, Mr. Important, Mr. Venture Capitalist, Mr. So Fucking Scared He Can't Face What's Happening?” She was so furious she wanted to hit him, but he pulled the shower curtain away from her, and turned to continue his shower.