Kirsten had ordered dinner as soon as they'd gotten home. As much as she liked to claim domestic goddess, tonight was a night when she didn't feel like cooking. They'd eaten at six on the patio, watching the blazing sun sinking slowly to a watery death. Neither of them spoke much, and Kirsten was grateful. The silence was comfortable between them, and they sat after they'd eaten, holding hands. Unspoken between them was a wondering at how much longer they might be able to do this.
"Can you book Seth his plane tickets tonight? I said we'd email him."
"Sure."
"And call Ryan. Maybe I should call Ryan, but…" Sandy knew what she was feeling. She'd been able to talk to Seth. Or rather, listen, since Seth did most of the talking and always had done. Ryan was a listener himself, and Sandy knew that Kirsten knew he'd pick up that there was something wrong. A quiver in her voice, misplaced words while her mind was still thinking of the cruel diagnosis… Sandy wasn't sure he could do much better.
"I'll email them both." He said, and felt, rather than saw, Kirsten nod in the half dark of the approaching twilight.
As darkness fell, they started cleaning up. Sandy took the time to quickly book Seth some tickets, and he emailed Ryan, asking him to come home when Seth was home. He wondered whether he should specify 'family news' as the reason, but decided to leave it. He came back to find Kirsten switching the dishwasher on. She turned tired eyes on Sandy and the clean kitchen.
"To bed?" He offered and she nodded. It was barely seven, but she already felt dead on her feet. They'd arranged for Sandy to take her to the hospital. Kirsten had weakly refused, told him he couldn't afford the time off when the company was already struggling. He'd told her nothing would make him leave that hospital unless, of course, she was beside him. She'd smiled, kissed him, told him she'd loved him with one deft look. He'd looked right back at her, and it had been settled.
They showered quickly, Kirsten leaning against the marble stall wall while Sandy soaped her back. He'd pulled on a pair of boxers then lay on the bed and watched as she dressed. She'd taken off the dressing after the shower, and the stitches stood out, cruel and black, against her satin skin. She pulled on underwear and a singlet that promoted an art show that had happened fifteen years ago. Kirsten looked down at it, responding to Sandy's confusion about it. She shrugged.
"Found it on ebay." Sandy shook his head, smiled as she climbed in beside him.
"My wife, the chronic shopper." Kirsten rolled over to face him, pulling the pillow towards her so it didn't obstruct her view. Sandy reached a hand out, rested his wrist on her side so his fingers could drape over her back, brushing her backbone. There was a moment of silence between them, shared breathing while they both kept avoiding what they'd been trying not to talk about since dinner.
"I'm really scared, Sandy." Kirsten said, snuggling herself closer to him. Sandy pulled her in and placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Me too," he said, his voice barely lifting above audible. "Me too."
Just a small author's note; my Aunt had breast cancer, but I was too young to really know anything about it. I'm flying by the seat of my pants with any medical information. If you feel a grievous error has been committed, send me a PM, email me or leave what you think to be right in a review and I'll do my best to edit accordingly. Thanks.