Nancy Zey~ 4,700 words
ENGL 2307
Short Story 1
Copyright (C) 2009
A Serendipitous Friendship
By Nancy Bradley Zey
On a typical Tuesday morning Marcia Henley boarded the train. The blue sky dotted with white clouds gave no indication of rain, but Marcia carried an umbrella. Taking one of the few available seats, she sat next to a nondescript man studiously reading the newspaper. Marcia clutched her purse. As the train jerked itself into motion Maria scanned the occupants. Men and women of employable age stared sightlessly ahead. Business casual ruled the day. A few titters of conversation wafted above the rickety tracks. Laughter summoned Marcia to turn to head toward the joyous sound. She held her purse with fingers turned white and sighed.
The thirty-four year old woman, who appeared plain to many, but beautiful to her husband of ten years, was tired. Her soulful brown eyes ringed with pale red sat above shadows. Her high cheekbones, made more pronounced with her recent fifteen pound weight loss, gave evidence of her Italian heritage as well as her once glossy dark hair that now hung unkempt down her back. She sat unnoticed.
Before the train can shudder to a stop, Mr. Nondescript Man rose abruptly from his chair and out the door once they open. Taking his place was a teenage girl. She plopped down and assumed the stare. The teen smacked her gum in time with the song that Marcia could hear perfectly without the benefit of the white ear buds her new companions wore.
Drawn to this girl, Marcia turned to her and received a glare for her trouble. Her companion shifted away from Marcia. Is this who my daughter might be someday?, she thought. Emily, Marcia's "clone" as her father called her, currently attended the third grade at St. Mary's Catholic School. Marcia recalled with an easy smile how Emily slurped her cereal and gave Marcia a warm hug before closing the car door this morning at school. It seems like only yesterday I was teaching her how to walk. Will I see her walk across the stage to get her diploma? Or meet her husband on her wedding day? Blinking back the threatening tears, Marcia straightened her spine and adjusted her purse. She sat unnoticed.
A humming sound emanated from Marcia's purse puzzling her for a moment before she recognized the source. She pulled out her cell phone and read a text message from her husband.
Wanted to check on you, see how you are holding up
Call as soon as you know.
\P/
With a smile she re-reads the message with his signature closing. The left leaning line represented their past, the right leaning line, their future. The 'P' stood for the present rising above it all like a flower. Ten years later and Marcia still thanked God everyday from bringing Clark into her life.
They met in college. He, an English major, was to be the next Dan Brown, writing complicated murder mysteries and she was to be the next Nobel Prize winning chemist. But as John Lennon once said, life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. After graduation bills had to be paid first for the summer wedding and then for the small house required for their growing family. Emily was on her way. So, the dreams of grad school for Marcia and long days in front of Microsoft Word for Clark were put on hold. Instead, Marcia became a stay-at-home mom and Clark went to work teaching English at the local Catholic high school, a position that didn't require Clark to return to school for teaching certification – yet.
Clark should be here, Marcia laments. He would give anything to be there, but he was already slated to be a chaperone on the senior field trip to Washington, D.C. and won't be back for two more days. A sigh escaped unnoticed by Marcia.
Marcia recalled how this new adventure began. After putting their daughter to bed one night, Marcia and Clark stole away to their master bathroom and started a shower for two. While the hot water sprayed on them Clark took the opportunity to thoroughly massage his wife's amble breasts. He paid particular attention to her left one noticing a small hardness. He was about to mention it to her but as he opened his mouth to speak Marcia filled it passionately with her tongue. Clark promptly forgot about the spot on her breast until three months later.
Marcia was having her annual gynecological exam with her usual doctor. After the uncomfortable pelvic exam, Dr. Grace examined Marcia's breasts and found the spot that Clark had discovered three months ago. Dr. Grace frowned and recommended Marcia make an appointment to have it looked it immediately.
Two weeks later when Marcia's radiologist appointment was scheduled, Emily came down with flu so Marcia cancelled with the full intention of rescheduling. That item didn't get crossed off Marcia's to-do list until another three months had passed.
The radiologist found two tumors and suggested a biopsy. This time there was no delay. Emily, now a first grader, was in school while Clark held Marcia's hand as the doctor did a fine needle aspiration biopsy with a local anesthetic. Two days later the results determined that a malignant tumor was present in Marcia's left breast.
The train jerked to a stop. Since Marcia was unprepared she accidently slammed into the gum-smacking girl.
"Sorry," Marcia offered.
"Whatever," the girl replied and gave Marcia a look of disdain as she got up and looked for another seat.
Feeling repugnant, Marcia sank a few inches deeper in her seat. A nurse wearing Tweety-bird scrubs took the girl's now vacant chair. She offered a welcoming smile to Marcia. Anxious to redeem herself, Marcia returned the smile. Marcia also noticed the badge clipped to the young woman's shirt pocket--the children's hospital downtown. The woman must be on her way to work since the hospital was still several stops down the line. Marcia cannot repress the urge to talk to this pleasant woman.
"You work at the Children's Hospital?" Marcia asked.
"Yes, oncology," she replied with the smile still lingering on her lips. Dread overcame Marcia. The woman looked at Marcia with a concerned brow breaking her previously cheerful disposition. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I fine," Marcia lied. She felt anything but fine especially now that she has taken the smile off this obviously caring woman's face. Marcia turned and looked into those compassionate eyes and burst into tears. The other passengers stared at her and shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but this kind woman simply put her arm around Marcia and offered hushing noises. She had no doubt comforted many cancer patients though they may be a few decades younger than Marcia. Aching for the comfort, but remembering where and who she was Marcia righted herself wiping away the tears from her cheeks. She offered a feeble laugh and said, "Sorry about that."
"No problem," the woman smiled, but the concern was still evident on her face. "Do you know someone with cancer?"
Marcia simply nodded and stared at the metal ceiling of the train car not trusting herself to look at the woman. To answer the woman's unasked question Marcia pointed to her chest and blinked away tears that threaten to run anew. The woman simply replied by giving Marcia another one-armed hug and Marcia could not keep the tears back anymore.
"Tell me," the woman invited.
"You sure you want to know?" Marcia asked.
The nurse smiled a welcoming smile and patted Marcia's hand on her knee. That was all the encouragement Marcia needed. Marcia had been reluctant to share her story with many people. She didn't want others to see her as weak or, even worse, pathetic. She didn't want to see other people look at her with pity all the while thinking to themselves "better her than me". Cancer was something that happens to other people and just being the same room with a patient made others uneasy. So, the subject wasn't talked about.
Clark was supportive, but like a typical man, he just wanted to "fix" it and breast cancer was out of his area of expertise. Marcia didn't like seeing the look of helplessness on her husband's proud face so she stopped talking to him as well except for the occasional status report which he received with grim nods. Of course, all of these conversations took place well outside the earshot of little Emily. Children cannot understand the life-threatening nature of Marcia's illness and should not be troubled with such traumatic issues both for the sake of the child as well as the parents. So Clark and Marcia were all smiles when Emily was around.
Doctors had recommended counseling, support groups and online message boards, but Marcia found them more depressing than supportive. She attended one group where she listened to this poor woman's multi-year battle with a radical double mastectomy only to die by the next weekly meeting. Marcia didn't find being that close to death encouraging. But this kind, anonymous woman sitting next to her was exactly what Marcia's soul needed.
"So, after the diagnosis of breast cancer we researched our options. I found an oncologist I could trust and he ran a battery of tests. Luckily the cancer had not yet metastasized to my liver or lungs, but it did affect some surrounding lymph nodes. At that time I was already stage three—shocked all of us. I beat myself up for months about how I neglected my health for so long, especially when I have family to care for.
"Anyways, the oncologist performed surgery to remove the two two-centimeter lumps from my left breast. That was followed with radiation treatments. Let me tell you how much fun that was." The young woman's compassionate eyes never left Marcia. The other passengers promptly forgot about Marcia's earlier emotional outburst and sat mute again. This time they went unnoticed by Marcia as she continued to pour out her tragic story.
"You have been through such an ordeal. Has your cancer gone into remission," the nurse asked.
"Well, we thought so. A month after the radiation treatment, the mammogram showed no more cancer so we all breathed a sigh of relief."
"But…"
"I found another lump two days ago."
The nurse's eyes widen in horror.
"Yep, looks like my reprieve is going to be short lived."
"How long ago did all this start?"
"Two years."
The woman nodded in understanding. Marcia believed she really did understand.
The train stopped again. The woman stood up.
"What hospital are you going to?" she asked.
"Oh!" Marcia stuttered as panic gripped her. I'm here? Already!? How did the time fly. "Um, Sacred Heart."
"That's close to Children's. Come!" The woman held out her arm inviting Marcia to lead the way out the train door.
On numb legs, Marcia rose from her seat and her eyes darted around the now too familiar train stop. Nothing had changed. The white station sign still read "Medical Center" and random people in scrubs, suits and street clothes sat on metal benches with cell phones, laptops or just staring into nothing. The fresh air mixed with train exhaust. Sirens could be heard over other traffic not too far away. She gave a wry smile to the nurse. "My name is Marcia. I am so glad to have met you. Thanks for listening to me." Marcia offered her hand.
"Don't mention it. Nice to you meet you, too, Marcia. My name is Wendy." Wendy shook the offered hand. Marcia noted sadly that the woman didn't wear a wedding band. "I can walk with you as far as the Children's hospital." They crossed the street and the women made their way up the two blocks to the large Children's Medical Hospital. Its bright blue roof served as a beacon. "Who is your Oncologist?" Wendy asked in front of the revolving front door.
"Dr. Spencer."
Wendy gave a knowing nod. "I've heard good things about him. You are in good hands. What time is your appointment?"
"Uh, one o'clock," Marcia responded while looking anxiously at her watch. It is only noon. Marcia wondered what she was going to do for the next hour.
"My shift doesn't start until one. Want to get some coffee? Or a bite to eat?"
"I've taken too much of your time already," Marcia begged while taking a step back.
"Nonsense, I insist. You need something to settle your upset tummy." Marcia chuckled at the 'tummy' reference. Wendy must be wonderful with the kids.
Marcia nodded her assent and entered the revolving door. It deposited her into a bright, airy room painted in vivid yellows and oranges with blue walls reaching up to the top of the multistory atrium. The melody of "Puff the Magic Dragon" wafted from hidden speakers. Colorful wheelchairs rolled by – no stuffy black and silver models here. Kids in cartooned hospital gowns raced each other while a nurse chastised them with a smile touching her lips.
"I am thankful I have never needed to be in a Children's hospital. But, this looks like kids would love it here," Marcia pondered.
"Yeah. It gives them, and their parents, hope. Do you have children?"
"Yes, a daughter. She'll be nine next month."
"How is your family doing so far with all this?"
"As well as to be expected I guess." Marcia was tired of talking. Wendy intuitively sensed that and ordered them coffees and fruit pastries at the cafeteria. In comfortable companionship they chatted about how Wendy became a nurse.
"Thank you for the coffee. I needed that. But, I really need to get going."
"Anytime. Here is my card. Please call me and let me know about your appointment." Marcia looked at Wendy with both surprise and suspicion. "I really want to know," Wendy confirmed with a genuine smile.
Marcia took the card and examined it on the elevator down to the ground floor. Even the business cards here were colorful with multi-hued typefaces. Marcia made her way to Sacred Heart and stepped into the quiet chapel.
She made the sign of the cross and knelt in a vacant pew. There were only a handful of people praying and Marcia joined them. She pulled out her delicate pearl rosary from her purse and fingered the beads as she silently implored the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph and Jesus, along with all the host of heaven, to look over her and her family.
After saying her prayers and lighting a candle to continue her prayer to Mother Mary, she left the dimly lit chapel for the harsh fluorescents of the sterile white hallway. She opened the heavy mahogany door to Dr. Spencer's well-appointed office suite, signed in with the ever-cheerful receptionist and sat down to await her fate.
***
Eighteen months later, a ten year old girl cried for her mother. A sea of people dressed in black restrained themselves from reaching out to the raven haired girl. Only her father could touch her. And he stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders looking as if without his daughter standing there he would just collapse.
In front of them there was a gaping hole in the ground. A priest in full vestments blessed the space with a wand of holy water as he chanted the prayers for the repose of her soul. The pallbearers lowered the shiny black casket into the ground. Clark, the father, stepped forward without disconnecting from Emily. They each dropped a white rose into the hole and said goodbye.
The mourners filed past Clark and Emily who were both in too much of daze to mutter anything other "thanks for coming". The last person through the informal receiving line was Wendy. "I am so sorry for your loss," she said to Clark while holding his hand in both of hers. Clark simply nodded and Emily threw her arms around Wendy. Wendy knelt down and took the girl in her arms.
Back at the house, a few people stopped to help with the food. The Church Bereavement committee went into overdrive and the fridge was stocked with every type of casserole imaginable. Marcia's family was back in Italy and don't have the money to fly in. Clark's parents were already dead – died when he was a child and he was raised by his grandmother, who had also passed. A few aunts and uncles scattered here and there, but there was no real family present to speak off to mark the occasion. The well wishers who did come to pay their respects were from church and school, acquaintances at best and nosy neighbors at worst.
After the food was devoured and awkward, but well-intentioned comments were made, the condensed Henley family was alone once again along with a couple of steadfast friends –most notably, Wendy. Emily was sleeping in Wendy's lap as Wendy brushed the child's hair from her brow still scrunched in grief, even in slumber.
"I can't thank you enough," Clark whispered. He hadn't been able to sit up straight for a week and the bags under his eyes told the tale. The last month was the hardest.
***
On that fateful day when Marcia met Wendy, Dr. Spencer gave Marcia the grim news that her cancer had metastasized and spread to several more lymphatic systems and, most devastating, her lungs. Radiation treatment alone was not enough. Marcia was subjected to weekly chemotherapy treatments. She, Emily and Wendy wept as the therapy stole both her strength and her beauty away, watching the tuffs of hair drift to the floor. Wendy became more and more a part of the family. She called to check in with Marcia after they met and proceeded to accompany her to doctor appointments, babysat Emily during treatments and was the shoulder for Marcia to cry on after vomiting countless times. Marcia appeared to be responding after several months and Dr. Spencer cleared her for a well-deserved family vacation. Emily selected the location: Walt Disney World.
Ushered by Clark in her wheelchair, Marcia was able to witness her daughter's delight in meeting Mickey Mouse, riding roller coasters and shopping for princesses. The trip drained what little remained of Marcia's stamina and a hospital admission occurred soon after their return. Dr. Spencer said the cancer had spread to her bones: the end was near.
Clark was haunted by the sight of his emaciated wife, deprived even of the dignity of hair, lying like a child in the slender hospital bed under thin blankets. An IV stuck in her arm infused her with the self directed dose of morphine to hold most, but not all, of the pain at bay. Marcia would try to smile and lift herself up into a sitting position whenever Clark or Emily came by, which was daily, but she always needed help to do so despite her weak protests that she was capable.
It broke Clark's heart to see his daughter cry after visiting her mother. For the last week Clark decided in favor of depriving Emily her mother instead of subjecting her to the shell her mother had become. However distasteful the task, Clark wiped Marcia's sweaty brow and wiped her chin of drool from the last vomiting spell. It was a thankless task for Marcia was too weak to utter more than monosyllable responses, but Clark knew she was appreciative nonetheless. He was also eternally grateful for the kindness of Wendy whose tireless spirit bolstered both Marcia and Clark's during this trying time praying rosary after rosary for his poor wife's soul.
Clark grieved for his young and vibrant wife long before her passing. He recalled how they spent endless nights discussing religion, philosophy and politics in college over pitchers of beer obtained courtesy of Clark's frat buddies. They were so idealistic and naive despite the air of intellectual superiority that all college students seem to confidently exude. He fell in love within minutes of seeing Marcia. She was so beautiful with her olive skin and silky black hair that hung down her back like a cape. She had frequently darted her eyes in his direction across the crowded and smoky basement of Sigma Chi between appropriately-timed giggles as her friends whispered in her ear. Bolstered by alcohol, he finally gathered the courage to throw out a line. Marcia laughed at him but didn't brush him off. Instead they talked the night away oblivious to the rowdy students around them. Within weeks they were attending confession together for absolution of their regular fornication. Within the year, they decided to stop pestering the priest for forgiveness and instead asked for the sacrament of matrimony.
Emily's arrival in their lives two years after their minimally attended wedding and one year after a disheartening miscarriage truly did bring Clark and Marcia together. Reality in the form of an eight-pound infant woke Clark up from the fantasy of being a best-selling author. He accepted the position at the local Catholic school and Marcia and Clark haven't missed a Holy Day of obligation since. A few more miscarriages over the following years might have hardened Marcia and Clark who had once envisioned a house full of children, but instead they cherished Emily all the more. However, they didn't' spoil her. They sent her to Catholic school and Marcia attended daily mass sitting beside her daughter. And, now, Emily was all he had left. Well, Emily and Wendy. He chose not to dwell on the consequences of that at the moment.
***
Going back to school was weird. Everybody looked at me as if I was contagious while muttering under their breaths. The few nuns who worked at St. Mary's all crossed themselves when I came into their line of vision. I felt the stares of the entire student body as the priest prayed for my mother's repose during daily Mass. I just shook it off and buried myself in work – my multiplication tables never looked so good. Jessica, my best friend since kindergarten, didn't know how to act around me so she just prattled on about what she usually prattled on about: how to piss off the nuns. My heart wasn't into it and soon Jessica was silent scaring the poor sisters into wondering what disastrous scheme she was hatching.
When I came home, I found both Daddy and Wendy in the kitchen. Both of them decided to take an extended bereavement leave. Dad's was understandable, but Wendy was just being Wendy. She's only been around for about a year now but already feels like a long-time member of the family. And family is in short supply these days. Everybody is dead.
I went to confession that week. I told Father Patrick that I was glad my mother was dead. I figured that had to be a sin. How can anyone wish their own mother dead? But I just couldn't take seeing her all bony and bald, unable to hold me. And I didn't want to be held – it seemed like it would hurt. Me or her, it didn't matter. But Father didn't grant me absolution for he claimed that there was nothing to forgive. I offered a rosary anyway as penance crying the entire time. And crying I do a lot lately.
In bed that night I look a framed picture of my family at Walt Disney World that sits on my nightstand next to my ancient Cinderella lamp. We are sitting, Mom in the wheelchair and I in her lap, with Daddy behind us on the left with Mickey Mouse's black hand waving on our right. Mom's smile was recognizable as hers though her frail body looked a lot more like mine making us seem like sisters instead of mother/daughter. I feel guilty for having sat in her lap and pray I didn't cause her pain. I miss her so much. With that thought my pillow catches my sobs.
***
Fragrant white roses permeated the air. Their scent drifted along the spring breeze that gusted through the open church door. The first few pews have a scattering of occupants, more on the left than the right. An eleven year old girl dressed in a long sage gown with a delicate floral wreath atop her head was performing double duty as both a young bridesmaid and an older flower girl as she self-consciously dropped white rose petals down the maroon carpeted aisle during the processional. Her father, the groom who was dressed in a black suit and white bow tie, smiled at his daughter as she took her place at the front of the church. Both turned as the organ began the first refrain of the "Wedding March". The congregants stood and everyone watched expectantly as the bride, dressed in obligatory white, outshined her gown with a smile that brightened the candlelit cathedral. Moisture formed in her eyes as she marched regally toward her future husband.
***
It was inevitable. At least Clark's best friend, Tom, thought so. Tom, who served as best man, had known Clark for the last fourteen years having been frat brothers back in college. Tom was there when Clark first met, laid and married Marcia. Tom, at the time, couldn't understand the appeal of matrimony when a sea of available and willing girls filed through the frat house with stunning regularity. But, then he wasn't as puritanical as his 'brother', nor did he have the maturity. Tom finished college on the six year plan and finally decided to get a job while Clark was busy with house and child and a pedestrian job teaching. Tom eventually did grow up and now has a wife and two children of his own, the latest of which was born just three weeks ago. Tom's chosen profession startled everyone. Tom offered the new bride and groom the Blood of Christ serving as Deacon at their nuptial mass.
Tom had seen the happiness in his friend's eye as a married man and father. He also saw the turmoil of man whose wife was helplessly dying of cancer. Marcia was a kind soul and Tom had no doubt that she would bypass purgatory and fly straight up to St. Peter in the sky. He had offered a few half-hearted indulgencies on her behalf just in case he was a bit presumptuous. But, mostly, he prayed for Clark and Emily. Marcia's pain might be gone, but for them it still remained. At least until Wendy became a focal point of their life. Wendy had met Marcia by happenstance and quickly became fast friends seeing Marcia and her family through till the end. After Marcia's death Wendy became a fixture at the Henley's residence. Clark called Tom many times in a panic.
"I think I'm in love with her," Clark whispered.
"Hmmm." Tom knew this was coming.
"How can I be?! Marcia's only been dead a few months…" Tom could hear the hiccup on the other line.
"And…"
"And!? It's too soon! It's Wendy for goodness sakes! Marcia's friend."
"Again, I ask, why do you see this as a problem?"
Tom and Clark had this conversation many times and it stunned Clark into silence every time. It took him a while to acknowledge that life can indeed go on and love can be embraced again. Wendy, in many ways, was a godsend to this family. Emily needed more family and Clark had too much love to quit. Tom also enjoyed seeing the spark back in his friend's eye.
***
"I love you," Wendy whispered in Clark's ear as they slowly danced under the spotlight.
"I love you, too," Clark whispered back and proceeded to spin his new bride around the small dance floor as she giggled with delight.
"Me next, Daddy!" cried Emily.
Clark released Wendy and picked Emily up by her arms and twirled her around so her legs flew out parallel with the floor. He continued until the room was loud with the sound of laughter.
A portrait sat on the guestbook table looking on the scene with apparent approval. Marcia was smiling, too.