For Sam, it was a blessed afternoon, a huge relief to be in the midst of busy, healthy, living people, after his hellish morning at New York Hospital. But he knew he still had to go back and face her. As a result, he drank a little too much wine, and made a few too many overtures to the Arabs, but they didn't seem to mind. They were very excited about Sam's firm, had heard good things about them from friends and associates, and they seemed pleased that Simon was becoming a partner.
It was only after Sam got back to the office and had met with their attorneys, that he started to come down, and think of what lay ahead of them, as he thought of Alex. He was staring into space, thinking about it, and the shock of knowing that she had cancer.
“Bad time?” He hadn't seen anyone come into the room, and he started when he heard her voice almost next to him. It was Daphne.
“Not at all. Sorry. I was spacing out. What can I do for you?”
“You looked a little ragged when you got to the restaurant,” she said, looking honestly at him, as her long, shapely legs couldn't help but catch his attention. But she could carry it off, and with brains too, it made for an interesting combination. It was difficult not to be bowled over by her, but Sam was also aware that she could be someone's girlfriend. He had never cheated on Alex, but Daphne was certainly young and appealing. “Bad day?” she asked, slipping into a chair, and watching him.
You could say that. “Not really. Just complicated. Some days are like that. A deal I was working on went a little wild. But things are in control,” he explained, not wanting to tell her, or anyone, about Alex. He wasn't sure why, but there seemed something wrong about it, as though they had done something terrible, as though she had something to hide now. An ugly secret called cancer.
“Some deals are like that,” she said coolly, appraising him. She crossed, and then uncrossed her legs, and he tried not to watch her. “I wanted to thank you for letting me join you. I know Simon is new here, and he's a bit brash about putting his own people forward sometimes. I didn't want you to feel that you had to put up with me, because of Simon.”
“Have you known him for a long time?” She seemed awfully young to have been involved with anyone for long, but Simon had told him she was twenty-nine. But she laughed in answer.
“Very long. Twenty-nine years actually. He's my cousin.”
“Simon?” Sam looked amused, he had assumed a much racier relationship than that one, although anything was still possible, but it seemed a little more unlikely. “How lucky for him.”
“I'm not sure about that. He's actually quite close to my brother. He's always said that I'm a terrible brat. He's only been impressed with me since I went to Oxford. My brother's fifteen years older than I, and he and Simon are quite keen on going hunting. Not my thing, I'm afraid.” She smiled at him, and Sam tried to pretend he didn't notice how beautiful she was as she uncrossed her legs again. There was something very unsettling about her, and he was wondering if it was going to be a good idea to have her around the office. Simon was hoping to have her work with him for a year, and then she wanted to go back to England, and go to law school. And in some odd ways, she reminded Sam a little bit of Alex. She had the same fire, the same bright, alive look she had had when he met her.
“Do you like it here? In New York, I mean. I suppose it's not terribly different from London.”
Big cities were fun and busy, and alive. Like Daphne. “I like it very much, though I don't know anyone, except Simon. He's taken me to some clubs, and he's dear about letting me tag along. I suppose it's a great bore for him, but he's very patient.”
“I'm sure it's not a bore for him at all, he must love it.”
“Well, he's very kind. And so are you. Thank you very much for letting me be here.”
“I'm sure you'll be an asset to the firm,” he said formally, they exchanged a smile, and he watched her admiringly as she left his office.
Five o'clock came all too soon, and then six, and he couldn't decide whether to go home to Annabelle, or back to the hospital to see Alex. He didn't want to call and wake her, and the doctor had said she probably wouldn't even be in her room until seven. So he went home first to see Annabelle, ate dinner sitting next to her, watching television, and then put her to bed with a story. Carmen asked if he'd heard from Mrs. Parker, and Annabelle complained that Mommy hadn't called her. And Sam explained that she was probably in meetings all day, and couldn't call them, but he looked unusually somber as he said it. And Carmen was watching him with a look of suspicion. She just knew something was wrong. She had noticed the small tote bag too, and the absence of a real suitcase.
At eight o'clock he changed into jeans, and seemed to hesitate before going back to the hospital. He knew he had to go, but suddenly he didn't want to see Alex. She would be woozy and sick, and probably in a lot of pain, in spite of what the surgeon had said about “ductal” tumors being less painful. They had lopped off her breast after all, how good could that feel? It made him feel sick again as he thought of facing her. Who was going to give her the news? Or would she just know? Could she feel it?
He looked grim when he got to the hospital, and went up to the small, ugly blue room, and much to his chagrin, she was wide awake when he saw her. She was lying in bed, with an IV pole next to her, and an elderly nurse reading a magazine in the light of the single lamp that was lit in the room. Alex was crying softly and staring at the ceiling. But he wasn't sure if she was in pain or if she knew about her breast, and he could hardly ask her.
The nurse looked up as he came in, and Alex explained that he was her husband, and then the nurse nodded and left the room as discreetly as she could, and took her magazine with her. She said she'd be just outside in the hallway.
Sam walked slowly to her bedside, and stood looking down at her. She looked as beautiful as ever, but very tired and pale, a little the way she had looked right after Annabelle was born, but this time she looked anything but happy. He took her right hand in his own, and he could see that her left side and her whole upper body were heavily bandaged.
“Hi, kiddo, how are you?” He looked uncomfortable, and she did nothing to hide her tears. There was reproach in her eyes when they met his.
“Why weren't you here when I got back to the room?” She couldn't have been there long. They had said around seven.
“They told me you wouldn't come back here until tonight. And I wanted to be with Annabelle, I thought that's what you'd want.” It was partially true, and partially he just hadn't wanted to come back here. And she knew that.
“I came back to the room at four. Where were you?” She was relentless in her anguish.
“I was at the office, and then I went home to see Annabelle. I just put her to bed, and then I came back here.” He made it sound innocent and easy, and as though he couldn't have come back a moment sooner.
“Why didn't you call me?”
“I thought you were sleeping,” he said, looking nervous.
And then she looked at him and the floodgates opened. She cried as though she would never stop. Peter Herman had seen her when she came back from the recovery room, and he had told her everything, about the tumor, the mastectomy, the risks, the dangers, the nodes he had taken too, the fact that he thought, and hoped, that the tumor had clean margins and hadn't spread beyond them, which he thought looked very hopeful, and the fact that most likely in four weeks they would be starting chemo. From where Alex was looking at it, she thought her life was over. She had lost a breast, and she could still lose her life. She was disfigured now, and for the next six months she was going to be desperately ill on chemo. She would very probably lose her hair, and just as possibly be permanently sterile after the treatment. Right now, it seemed like there was nothing left, not even her marriage. Sam hadn't even been there for her when she woke up. He hadn't been there when the doctor had told her the devastating news. Herman hadn't wanted to wait to tell her any of it, he didn't want her worrying or guessing, or discovering that the breast was gone, or hearing it from the nurses. He was a firm believer in telling his patients everything, and he had. Alex felt as though he'd killed her. And Sam had done nothing to stop it, or help her.