“How ’bout we go to a store, make out in the fitting room, and get the whole thing done at once.”
“I think we better do the incision first,” she said. “You want to look?”
“Only if you want me to,” he said. “I don’t mind looking. I think probably we ought not to have something we don’t share. But I don’t want to force anything on you that will hurt.”
“No, it’s okay, I want you to see it. I think you should. I think we should both know what this looks like. I don’t want to be worrying about it. I don’t want to have to be afraid you’ll catch me with my bra off.”
She got up and dropped her robe from her shoulders. From the waist up she wore only a bra. She unsnapped the bra behind and removed it. The scar was a bit more puckered than he had imagined. There were still some stitches.
“What do you think?” she said.
He shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not an asset but it’s not gross. Dan’s appendix scar looks a lot worse.”
“What about the imbalance?” she said.
“It’s an imbalance. You got one boob and one no-boob. But it’s not gross, it’s just imbalanced.”
“How would you feel about it when we make love?”
“It doesn’t make a lot of difference. If it’s up to me I think you look better with the bra on, but it isn’t very significant either way.”
I think I’d rather he found me just as appealing with the bra off. But who can blame him, and it isn’t much, either way. There’s no way you can say, ‘Isn’t that attractive?’ I mean one boob on and one boob off. It is what it is. It certainly isn’t much of a change in our relationship, and it’s hardly worth thinking about.
She slid the bra back on and put the small piece of sponge rubber she was using, back in place. “It’s better on, isn’t it. Then it looks like two boobs.”
“Yeah,” he said. “There’s no way to bullshit around that. Two boobs are better than one. But you are exactly what you have always been to me. There is no way that can change.”
“I know that,” she said. And she meant it. “I really believe that you want me and enjoy me physically and enjoy looking at me just as you did before. But I also believe you are absolutely the only one.”
“Well, we’ve waltzed around that before,” he said. “As long as you know about me... ‘love, let us be true to one, another...’ ”
“Who said that?”
“Arnold, ‘Dover Beach’... The sea of faith was once, too, at the full.”
“Arghh,” she said.
“You’re not into verse?”
“No.”
They smiled, playing their game again, feeling the expanded time they had to play such games now, for the fun of the games and not to keep an upper lip stiff. It mattered so much, she thought. Slowly as I work this long thing out in my head, I am discovering how much it mattered, the knowledge that he wouldn’t change, that he would love me and want me and enjoy me just as he did before, and that for him I am exactly what I always was. I will be grateful for that till I die.
“Perhaps,” he said, “you might enjoy it if I were to recite the starting lineup of the nineteen forty-six Brooklyn Dodgers, including all eight guys that they tried at third base that year.”
“Perhaps you would just as soon forget forever about sexual activity,” she said.
It sustained me more, I think, than I knew. That and the knowledge that the boys would be the same. That sustains beyond all else, to the ones that mean the most, I am still me.
“Okay, never mind about the Brooklyn Dodgers. What’s next, the screw or the prosthesis?”
“Ugh,” she said. “I hate that word.”
“Which? Screw or prosthesis?”
“Prosthesis.”
“Whew.”
“I think of trusses and artificial limbs, and cumbersome contraptions done in black leather.”
“Ah, now you’re talking my language,” he said.
“Not that kind of contraption, weirdo.”
“Oh.”
“But anyway, to answer your question. The prosthesis is next. I saw an ad in the Globe today. For Jodi bras.”
“Yeah, I did too. I went over and checked it out. You just walk in. No appointment. They have someone who helps you get fitted.”
“You went and asked about it?”
“Yeah. I asked some saleslady who looked very concerned that the Jodi bra lady wasn’t there. So I said, ‘That’s okay, I don’t need her now anyway. It’s not for me, it’s for my wife’.” He began to giggle. “She looked at me quite strangely and went away quickly.”
“I bet they love you in stores,” she said, her face bright with laughter. “Anyway, I’m going over tomorrow and get one.”
“Want me to come?”
“No. Jude will go with me. I’m not completely comfortable with you seeing the incision again. And someone has to go in the fitting room and they might not let you in.”
“There would have to be a fair number of salesladies to keep me out.”
“Anyway, I’m completely comfortable with Jude. She’s seen the incision and all. I won’t be embarrassed with her. So tomorrow she and I will go.”
“Do they make them in black lace with cat faces over the nipples?” he said.
“Animal.”
Chapter 27
Thursday morning after the kids were off to school Joan said to Judy Marsh, “You gotta come with me. I gotta get this over with. If you come with me it will be funny. If I go by myself I may cry a lot.”
Judy said, “Let’s go now so we can be there when the store opens and we won’t have a bunch of people standing around listening when we are asking at the bra counter.”
Judy drove. In the car they discussed phrasing.
“Just say, ‘I’d like to see a Jodi bra, please,’ ” Judy said.
“And what if she says, ‘What’s a Jodi bra?’ ” Joan said.
“Then you say, ‘I’ve had a mastectomy.’ ”
“And what if she says, ‘What’s a mastectomy?’ ” Joan said.
“Then you call her an asshole,” Judy said.
“I guess we’ll play it by ear,” Joan said.
At the bra counter Joan said to the saleswoman, “Excuse me, I understand you sell Jodi bras.”
“Yes, we do.”
“I’d like to look at some Jodi bras specifically for the left side.”
Beside her Jude murmured, “Nice phrasing.”
“Shut up, Jude, it’s the best I can think of.”
The saleswoman said, “I couldn’t possibly help you with a Jodi bra, but our surgical fitter will.”
Joan looked at Judy. Judy formed the words “surgical fitter” silently and raised her eyebrows. The saleslady went to get the surgical fitter.
“What the hell,” Joan said, “is a surgical fitter? Is she going to operate?”
Judy said, “I bet it gets worse.”
The surgical fitter was a small fat lady with her hair dyed black and a strong Bronx accent. She appeared to be about fifty-five. She wore a lot of jewelry, and the smell of her perfume was strong and inexpensive.
“Darling,” she said with a big smile, “I am here to help you.”
“Listen,” Joan said, “what I need is a little something to shove in the left side to even things off.”
“Come right along with me, dear,” the surgical fitter said. “We’ll go in the fitting room, and you can take off your blouse and bra and I’ll surgically fit you.”
Judy made a small noise next to Joan. The surgical fitter looked slightly annoyed.
“Right away, we’ve got a problem,” Joan said. “I don’t want to go in the fitting room and take off my blouse and bra. I feel a little silly about it, but I am just not ready to bare the bod to anyone but my friend,” Joan pointed to Judy. The surgical fitter did not look at Judy.