Better Than None (4 page)

The first martini went down quickly and easily, not that I thought
there’d be much struggle. As the bartender set the second one in front of me,
the men left. I put the phone back down and enjoyed the simplicity of my drink
when I felt someone slide into the seat to my right. I didn’t even bother to
look up as the bartender made eye contact with the new patron, nodded and said,
“The usual, Brad?”

When I heard, “Thanks, Scott.” I thought,
I know that voice. I don’t
want to, but I do
. I took another healthy sip and turned over my shoulder
to see none other than the illustrious Dr. Rosenberg. He did a double take as
he tried to either place me or remember my name. Or both.

“It’s Stephanie Lawson. My mother is one of your patients.” I said
flatly.

“I know who you are.” He said dismissively.

“Of course you do. Silly me to think the great doctor would ever be at
a loss.”

I chuckled to myself as I looked back at my martini. Of all the gin
joints… I would pick a bar to get away from anything and everything cancer, and
who sits down next to me but my mother’s God-damned oncologist. Perhaps this
was the universe telling me I really shouldn’t have been there. As the
bartender placed Dr. Rosenberg’s drink in front of him, I asked for the bill
and then downed a good portion of the rest of my second drink, which burned. A
lot.

“Are you leaving because of me?”

He was nothing if not direct. Still, I rolled my eyes and looked at
him. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

“Wow, a compliment? Or a semblance of one. Careful, you wouldn’t want
to mess with your cheery bedside manner, it might confuse us simpletons.”

What I said seemed to actually hurt him a bit, not that I knew exactly
what his expression meant, but whatever it was differed from the smugness I’d
witnessed in his office.

“You really don’t like me, do you?”

“For a doctor who seems like a know-it-all, I’m pretty sure you know
the answer to that.”

“So you’re just going to shoot the messenger?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

He shook his head and took a long sip of his drink as he waited for me
to explain.

“I hate to break it to you, but in your line of work, for us patients
your delivery is all you have. So yeah, as a messenger, you suck.”

He took another long sip as he let my comment sink in and then said sincerely,
“I’m very sorry about your mom.”

I looked at him like he was from another planet. Talk about Dr. Jeckyl
/ Mr. Hide.

“You know about her diagnosis?”

“I spoke with Dr. O’Malley and Dr. K this afternoon in conference.” He
said softly and then took another sip. “I’m guessing that’s probably why you’re
here.”

It was hard to reconcile the man sitting next to me, or how anyone
could switch from being so cold to sounding so caring in a matter of seconds.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, for both of us. The drink made him softer and made
me more receptive. There was no way I could be sure. I didn’t know this man.

“And that’s why I’ll be leaving.” I finished the rest of my drink and
dug in my purse for my wallet. When I looked back up, Dr. Rosenberg had my bill
in his hand, giving it back to the bartender.

“Scott, please put this on my tab.”

“Sure thing, Brad.”

“I don’t need your pity. I can pay for my own drinks.”

“I’m sure you can. But you’re wrong about not needing my pity.”

His tone was so odd, it was resigned. It was such a cocky comment, but
the way it came out somehow sounded caring. I just looked at him.

“I ruined your evening.” He stated flatly.

I shrugged. “Yeah, but the day was already horrible. This was just par
for the course.”

“Ouch.”

I actually felt bad that I could hurt this man’s feelings. “I was going
to say, ‘no offense, it’s not you’ but that would be a lie. It is you. I came
here to think about anything other than cancer…”

“And then I sit down.”

“Pretty much.” I looked back down into my now empty glass.

Dr. Rosenberg’s voice forced me to look at him, but he simply looked
ahead of him when he spoke next. “Once you get the diagnosis, once cancer is
part of your life, you can’t escape it. It’s everywhere. The more you try to
get away from it, the more it rears its ugly head, mocking you, reminding you
that it’s everywhere.” He chuckled and then turned to me, “Get it? It spreads,
it doesn’t just stay where it’s supposed to.
Because
it’s cancer
.
That’s what it does.”

I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, or what his little speech was
supposed to do, but all it did was make me feel worse. Tears well up but I
blinked them back as I looked down, gathered my things and slid off the bar
stool. If I thought I was fucked up, I was starting to feel pretty damn well
adjusted after listening to whatever that was.

“Thanks for the drinks.” I mumbled without looking at him. I walked
out, making a mental note never to go back to that bar again.

I was in no shape to drive. Even with my tolerance, I couldn’t handle
two martinis on a completely empty stomach. After the day and evening I’d had,
getting pulled over for drunk driving wasn’t something I wanted to add to the
list. So I sat in my car, put the seat back and thought, that was probably more
of a substantive conversation than I’d ever had with a man in a bar. And it was
with my mom’s prick of a cancer doctor of all people.

****

I got to work early the next day, determined to make up for my time out
of the office. It was so still and quiet I was able to get lost in my work and
focus on my computer screen.

“Good morning, Steph.” Marty said from my doorway, making me jump.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I laughed nervously. “Sorry, Marty. Just didn’t expect anyone else here
this early.”

He laughed genuinely. “Me either. So what
are
you doing here at
the crack of dawn?”

“Just making up for the time I’ve taken with my mom. I don’t like being
the new girl and asking for time off.”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Stephanie, we have a problem
here.” He said sternly and I thought, this is it. I’m going to have to choose
between my mother and my job.

“I’m sorry, Marty. I swear this isn’t like me. Honest. I wouldn’t take
the time if it weren’t for something really important. I know I haven’t been
here long enough for you to know me, but I promise, I don’t take this job for
granted. But my mom is everything to me, and, and I have to be there for her.
And I understand if you can’t—”

Apparently, Marty didn’t want to hear any more of my rambling excuse as
he interrupted me and said, “Enough.” I opened my mouth to try to explain more
but he just stared at me. His look alone made me sink back down into my chair.

“Stephanie, do you really think I’m the kind of person who would be
upset with you taking a few hours off to care for your mother?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued talking.

“Because if you do, then that’s our problem. Do you understand me?”

“I think so.” I said softly. I was so rattled by everything I wasn’t
thinking clearly.

“Jesus, Steph.” He shook his head and then came all the way in and sat
down. “Let’s start over, okay?”

“Okay.” I still wasn’t sure where he was going.

“How’s your mom?”

“Huh?”

“You just said you’d only take time away from work if it were serious.
Which means, it’s serious.” He paused so that I’d get it through my thick skull
before he asked again, this time speaking slowly and deliberately. “So, how is
your mother?”

I wasn’t used to talking about my personal life with anyone, much less
my boss. But I was so touched that he asked and that he seemed genuinely
interested and concerned. After the initial appointment with Dr. Rosenberg,
having someone actually interested in hearing what I had to say, inviting it,
was a nice change of pace. While part of me wanted to tell him she was fine and
get back to work, it was becoming clear that he didn’t like the brush-off.
Whereas most people didn’t really wait to hear the answer after they asked,
“how are you?” Marty actually did. Plus, I knew I’d need to take more time off
for more appointments in the near future. So I told him as much as I knew. And
the more I talked, the more questions he asked.

I even shared about the arrogant Dr. Rosenberg. I left out the part
about my mom falling for his good looks. I already felt like I had let her down
by losing it like that, I didn’t want to betray her anymore by complaining
about her to Marty. I also left out the part about running into him at the bar.
Marty listened and said all the right, comforting things. It was nice to have
him to talk to. He was a sweet man, a good man. He never once interrupted me,
and he tried to sooth my worries. When I finally got it all out, I realized
we’d been talking for almost an hour. As nice as it was, it was starting to
feel too personal.

“Well, now I’m going to have to stay late to make up my work!” I joked
trying to artfully end the conversation.

 Marty rolled his eyes before softening again. “I appreciate you
sharing with me. I’m getting that’s probably not in your comfort zone.”

“I’m that transparent?”

“Nah, the opposite. That’s my point.”

“Well, not everyone is as easy to talk with. I appreciate your concern
and support, Marty. Truly.”

“I know you do. That’s why I give it.”

Marty gathered his bag and gave me one last smile before he walked out
leaving me feeling something I hadn’t ever felt before with a man: cared for.

The next week I had a photo shoot and a presentation that I couldn’t
miss. Barbara assured me that she was ok and there was nothing I could do
before our next appointment with Dr. Rosenberg. It was the first time that she
wasn’t playing the helpless female. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, but I was
grateful for work as a distraction and threw myself into it even more than
usual.

Tom and I had been working on a new makeup account called “Illusion”.
We were shooting a semi-naked model behind frosted glass and in post we would
bring out her features with the makeup. It was a closed set but still, most of
the guys in the office teased that they for some reason or another needed to be
there. It was all good-natured fun and in the end given the racy nature of the
shoot it was just me, Dave, the photographer, the makeup artist and the model.
Marty had chosen the photographer, so while I didn’t know him, I’d had
conversations over the phone with him prior to the shoot to discuss lighting
and the overall idea and we’d agreed that for a shoot like this, the fewer
people the better.

When I walked into the studio, Dave’s back was to me as he tested the
lighting with the model while she was still somewhat clothed. After a few shots
he looked up as I walked towards him to introduce myself. When I recognized him
from some drunken night, I felt all the blood drain out of my face. He did a
double take and then acknowledged me with a knowing smirk.

“I thought your voice sounded familiar.”

For a split second I thought about pretending like I didn’t recognize
him, but I was already dead in the water. “Um, yeah, so I’m Stephanie,” I said
lamely as I stuck out my hand to shake his. He seemed amused as he regarded my
outstretched hand for a moment and then after letting me twist for a few
seconds too long, shook it.

“I didn’t think I got your name the first time I, um, met you.”

I nodded and looked at the floor then back up at him and then anywhere
else. The model, the set, the monitor.

“So you work for Marty?”

“Mmmhmm.” I nodded. My mouth was so dry, my heart was beating so fast,
my palms were clammy. I felt trapped. I wasn’t sure how I could simultaneously
feel a million things and complete blankness run through my mind. So I stood
there as he seemed to enjoy watching me squirm. 

“I’ve known him and a bunch of the guys at his agency for years. Small
world.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure if he was just making
conversation or an idle threat. There wasn’t anything I could say. I just stood
there mute as I wondered whether he’d tell the entire agency what I’d done with
him. I wasn’t even sure exactly just what that was. Or where. Or when. I just
knew that we obviously had been together. And I knew my old MO, so I doubt
there was much chit chat. I couldn’t change what I’d done. All I could do was
move forward. This was business, so that’s who I would be: his client, not some
pathetic slut he knew once.

“Right, ok, so are we all set with the first setup?”

Dave put his hand on my shoulder and I flinched and stepped back.

“Stephanie, lighten up. I had a good time. Maybe after the shoot we
could…”

“Look, Dave, no offense, I’d just rather focus on the shoot. I’m not
that person anymore, ok?”

“Yeah, obviously. That girl I met at the bar was a lot more fun.”

With that he turned back to his camera and barked out orders to one of
his assistants. There was nothing I could do. I’d brought this on myself and
now, my whole plan of starting over was looking like it was all going to come
crumbling down around me. It was all I could do not to walk out of there, find
something to down, come back in and screw Dave’s brains out just to prove to
him that I still was that fun girl, and to numb myself from the sickening
feelings that were creeping in. Of course, I didn’t. That wasn’t me anymore.
I’d get through this. I’d have to. If he told Marty and the guys at the agency,
well, so be it. Maybe they’d never believe it anyway.

The shoot was awkward and uncomfortable, and Dave was a dick to me. It
took every shred of determination that I had not to do something stupid.
Ironically, as irresponsible as I had been with men, I was always incredibly
responsible in every other area of my life. I think the conditioning early on
of always being the adult to my mother must have led to that. So I have her to
thank for that part of me.

As much as I desperately wanted to walk away, I had a job to do, and
Dave’s fragile ego would just have to deal with rejection. Plus, I was the
client. I, or my agency, was paying him.

“One sec, I want her to shift positions.” I said to Dave who seemed
surprised I spoke up.

“I think she looks good the way she is.”

“And
I
want her in a different position.” I said looking him
square in the eyes before turning my back to him as I walked over to the model.

I took my time behind the frosted glass, grateful it was there, and
explained to Malena what I was looking for. She smiled sweetly and when I came
back I made sure my shoulders were back and my head was up. I didn’t need Dave
to like me, but I did need to get the shots I wanted.

“Okay” was all I said as my indication that he could start shooting
again, which he reluctantly, silently did. As the shoot progressed, I continued
to art direct Malena, talking only to her, and in the end, it was a beautiful
shoot.

As we wrapped, I vowed to remain professional. “Thanks, Dave. I think
we got some really nice shots here. You can send a drive to the office.” I
stuck out my hand to shake his and he looked at it, snorted and then rolled his
eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of schizo?”

I had no response. Maybe I was. I had tried to be the bigger person,
tried to be professional, yet I still felt like I wanted to throw up. I’m not
sure what the right play would have been. It didn’t really matter. I had
screwed up my courage to get through the shoot, which I did, and got what I
needed. I didn’t combust or wilt or yell or cry. I got through it, which was a
big step. As I drove back to the office I congratulated myself on not falling
apart while simultaneously worrying what, if any fallout there would be at the
office once Dave had talked with Marty and the rest of the gang.

On the drive back to the office as I was wracking my brain trying to
remember when and where I’d met Dave, my cell rang and upon seeing my mom’s
name pop up, I was snapped out of my pathetic wallowing and reminded that there
were far more important things to worry about.

“How are you feeling today? Have you been able to eat?”

She sighed. “God, Steph, I just can’t digest anything. I get hungry and
then eat something and a few minutes later my stomach just bloats up. I’m so
uncomfortable. And I look disgusting. I look so fat.”

“Ma, you’re not fat.”

“You saw my belly. It’s disgusting! I can’t even look at myself.”

As sad as it may have been, I was grateful that my mom was focusing on
the superficial rather than what the underlying cause was.

 “Enough about this. How’s work?”

“I’m on my way back from a shoot for Illusion cosmetics.”

“Oh, I use their foundation! I love their products! You know, I was one
of the first of my friends to try their line and now everyone’s using it…”

With that, we were back to our usual dynamic. She chatted on for the
rest of the drive to the office keeping my mind free from worry about her or
Dave or anything else that could turn my life upside down.

****

Once again, I asked Marty for the afternoon off to take Barb to her
first chemo appointment. Neither of us had any idea what to expect and I wanted
to be there with her even if I didn’t necessarily need to be. Marty encouraged
me to take the entire day if I needed to, but I came in early to try to make up
for it. And once again, Marty checked in on me.

“I thought I might catch you here early.” He said as he walked into my
office. It was a little past seven a.m. so we were the only two people there.

“I’m becoming a foregone conclusion?” I kidded and he shrugged as he
put down a coffee and pastry.

“Marty, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

“I, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Marty.” It must have been a
combination of all the worry and stress, but tears started welling up which I
blinked back furiously in hopes that he didn’t see.

“It’s just coffee, Steph.”

“And a scone.” I joked.

“And a scone.” He paused and sat down. “How are you holding up?”

I was starting to get used to Marty’s gentle prodding. Over the last
few weeks, I’d been to probably half a dozen appointments with Barb, so coming
in early and talking with Marty was becoming somewhat routine. Still, opening
up wasn’t second nature.

“Resistance is futile, right?”

“For such a bright young woman, you’re a slow learner in some areas.”

I blushed at the compliment, back-handed as it may have been.

“I don’t know. This whole process so far has been so surreal.
Everything’s happened so fast. And it seems like no one really has any answers.
And I worry about my mom. She just seems so scared, not that I blame her. I
just wish there was something I could do. I feel so damn helpless.”

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“Find a cure for cancer?”

“Top of my to do list.”

“Thanks, Marty. I really don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t so
flexible and understanding.”

“You haven’t seen me in a yoga class. I’m the antithesis of flexible.”

I rolled my eyes at his corny joke and tried to stifle my snickering.
He got up and started to walk out. He turned around and paused in my doorway.

“I’ll be thinking good thoughts this afternoon for both you and your
mom.”

“Thank you.”

We smiled at each other before then he went into his office. I tried
not to worry about what I would have done if I hadn’t landed where I did. I
couldn’t imagine taking this much time off at my previous job. I also tried not
to worry about the feelings I was starting to develop for Marty. I knew
logically why I was feeling them. He was the first man who ever seemed to take
an interest in me, who seemed to genuinely care about me. He was also getting
to know me better than most anyone else, which scared the crap out of me. That
fear coupled with the fact that he was my boss was enough to keep my head on
straight about the line that could not be crossed.