I look around the barren room. The walls are painted a boring beige that should have been warm and inviting, and instead, come off cold and impersonal. There are some plaques on the wall and framed diplomas. The worn, green carpet beneath my feet seems as dated as the cherry wood desk in front of me.
I don’t want to be here. I feel out of control and that’s not who I am.
Not anymore.
I’ve built my life around control. That’s who I’ve become, who life beat me into becoming. Since the birth of my son, I’ve carefully built my life on what I thought was a solid foundation of rules that kept me isolated from pain. Yesterday, I found out that I might have built my foundation on a deck of cards that had been carefully stacked and are about to fall over. My body tightens as the door behind me opens. In walks a tall, skinny woman with black stiletto heels, black dress pants and white lab coat. I watch her walk in from my peripheral vision. I don’t know why I don’t turn around to acknowledge her—other than I can’t hardly breathe. When she walks to her desk, she stands behind it, and still, my gaze doesn’t lift to her. I find myself focusing on her name plate. Dr. Lark Hall.
“I’m sorry I’m late Ms. Matthews. It has been a hectic day.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, clearing my throat. Finally, I find the courage to look at her, and I hate that there’s fear in the pit of my stomach, bubbling like acid—but there’s nothing I can do.
She sits down and my eyes move to the metal name badge on her coat. I stare at it until the name blurs.
“I reviewed your mammogram and there’s a particular area that is of concern,” she says, and that feeling of dread that I’ve had since getting the letter in the mail three days ago explodes inside of me.
“Do I have cancer?” I ask, whispering the words that I don’t want to voice. I’m scared that once I say it, it will become real.
“Sometimes, these areas will show up on a mammogram, and when we do a second mammogram, it will be nothing. Sometimes, we may need to go in and biopsy the area, but neither of those things mean it’s cancer,” she answers. I nod, but my brain has frozen with the word biopsy. “I know you’re worried, Ms. Matthews, but I want you to have faith in me as your doctor. Let’s take a breath and go in steps.”
I nod. “What’s step one?” I ask anxiously.
“The first is to breathe and realize that a lot of the time what you’re going through is nothing. There’s no reason not to believe everything will turn out fine.”
I moisten my lips and, doing as Dr. Hall suggested, take a deep breath.
“Okay, Doc. I’m putting myself in your hands,” I respond.
“Good. Let’s get that other mammogram done. We’ll get the results back and go from there.”
I stand up and channel some of that Lucas backbone that I inherited from my mother. “Then let’s get on with the boob squishing,” I joke, making Dr. Hall laugh.
3
Bryant
“Yeah, man, I appreciate it. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I respond, clicking my phone off and tossing it onto the counter.
I let Terry sleep in this morning and then took him to school. I know Maggie told me to take him to her mom’s, but there just wasn’t a need. I called work early this morning and told them I wouldn’t be there. As a physical therapist and trainer, I specialize in sports teams. I’m currently employed by a major league baseball team, but I’m not exactly happy. That means, there’s probably a job change in my future. Regardless, my team isn’t on the road right now, so it’s fine. Just now, I followed up to make sure everything was handled. I don’t know what’s going on with Maggie, but something is off, and I just feel like I need to pay attention to her.
It sounds stupid. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. Maggie and I haven’t lived in the same house since Terry was born. She’s dated, and at first, that was a hard fucking pill to swallow. I dated—not because I truly wanted to—but because if Maggie was going to do it, I figured I should, too. Hell, maybe in the back of my mind, I thought I could make her jealous.
It has worked out for the most part, but it’s also not what I want. At thirty-six, I realize there’s more that I want from life. I’m not getting younger, and while I love my career, I want the things I dreamed of when I was a kid starting out with Maggie—the things she wanted before the loss of our daughter.
Grief affects people in different ways. For Maggie, it created walls that she doesn’t let anyone break down. It’s frustrating, but having experienced the same pain, I understand it.
At least to a certain point.
I rummage around the fridge, seeing what I need to make dinner tonight, while searching around for breakfast at the same time. Terry had his marshmallow breakfast cereal this morning, but it didn’t sound appetizing. Too bad, because it looks like that’s all that is on the breakfast menu. It appears when I pick up stuff for dinner tonight, I also need to restock the place in general. That’s another disadvantage that happens with working all of the time.
I grab the milk from the fridge as my doorbell rings. I’m not expecting anyone, and since I’m usually at work, it catches me by surprise. I grin, wondering if Maggie returned early. I put the milk on the counter and walk to the door, but the smile on my face freezes when I realize it’s not the Lucas I wanted on my doorstep.
“Fuck, what did I do now?”
“I don’t know. Is it something I need to beat your ass down for?” Blue asks, and I frown at him.
I step away from the door and walk back to the kitchen.
“Come on in if you’re going to. You’re interrupting my breakfast,” I mutter.
I like Blue. I like all of Maggie’s family, really. They’ve been good to me, even Ida Sue who can be a tough nut to crack. They’re all great with Terry, and I’m grateful he has such a great family surrounding him—because God knows he doesn’t have that from my side.
I hear the door close as I grab a bowl from the cabinet. I look up as Blue ambles in and takes a stool at the breakfast bar. I know he and Black are twins and while they do look alike for the most part, they’re as different as night and day. Black is a jokester, a riot at times and that’s only increased since he married Addie. Blue? He’s wound up so tight, I’m surprised he can move, let alone get on that horse he loves riding. I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile—at least not fully.
“That shit will poison you,” he mutters, curling his nose at my cereal.
“Like you don’t eat this at your mom’s,” I reply, because I know he does. He just shrugs, not arguing. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”
“Didn’t know I needed a reason,” he responds, and I let out a sigh.
“Of all of Maggie’s family, I figure you are the one that does nothing without a reason, Blue.”
“Green told me you’re considering a job that will take you to Washington.”
I frown.
“Green’s got a big mouth.” I put down my cereal box, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t specifically tell Green to keep it quiet, but I didn’t expect him to go blabbing either, damn it.