Lightning (22 page)

“Please …don't … I can't …but thank you.” He kissed her gently again, and she waved and stepped back, as he made a mental note of her address and knew he shouldn't.

He was home by seven-fifteen, and Alex looked anything but pleased when she saw him. But she didn't say anything. She had guessed correctly that he was avoiding her, but she would have been even more upset if she'd known what he'd been doing. For a moment, he thought he smelled Daphne's perfume on him, and he went to wash his hands, and change his sweater.

“You must have had a lot of work,” she said cautiously after Annabelle went to bed. Carmen had finished the dishes and had already disappeared into the guest room.

“I did.”

“Business must be very good. You've never had to do that.”

“Simon's bringing in a lot of new clients. He's really terrific.”

“Are you watching how he's handling things? His style may not be yours or Tom and Larry's. You don't want some shiny flash in the pan screwing up your business.”

“He won't. He had a great reputation in London for bringing in business, and big money.”

“Clean money?”

“Obviously.” He looked annoyed again. She was always questioning everything. She was a true attorney in that she was always suspicious. He had been leery of Simon at first too, but he was convinced by now that Simon was going to do great things for their business. And he had brought Daphne with him …what more could he want? Sam found himself drinking of her again as he sat down to dinner with Alex.

“So what were you working on?” she asked, looking interested in what had kept him at the office all afternoon, and he almost choked on his salad when he heard the question.

“Nothing much …just a few things …some housekeeping.”

“Since when do you do that?” she asked. She seemed skeptical but not suspicious. It was obvious to her that he was simply staying away so he didn't have to see her, which was true. What she had no way of knowing, fortunately, was what he'd been doing with Daphne.

Their dinner together was anything but warm, or even interesting. They seemed to be groping for subjects of mutual interest, which was unusual for them, but at least they were together and she was home. The worst had already happened, or almost, and now all she had to do was hang in and survive the treatment. Their marriage would fall into place again after that. She was sure of it. It was just rough now, as they both adjusted to a new situation.

But he was just as cautious about lying next to her that night as he had been the night before. He was solicitous and polite, but he made no attempt at all to come near her. And once again, when he fell asleep, she lay on her side of the bed and cried. Just a little kiss or a hug would have meant so much to her, even if he was afraid of what lay beneath her nightgown.

The strain between them was so great, it was a relief to both of them when the weekend ended. Sam left for work at eight o'clock on Monday morning. And she took Annabelle to school for the first time since her operation. And at nine o'clock, she had an appointment with Dr. Peter Herman. He was going to check her sutures and her dressing. She was desperately afraid of what she would see when he changed it.

But she would have been even more afraid if she could have seen what Sam had waiting for him when he got in. Daphne was wearing a little navy blue Chanel suit, with a miniskirt and her long, sexy legs, and she only wanted to confirm to him that Saturday had been no mistake, and she had no regrets. She wanted Sam more than she'd wanted any man in years, and she said so.

“I just want you to know,” she whispered as she closed the door to his very luxurious office, “that I'm in love with you. You don't have to do anything. You don't even have to want me. But I'm here for you, anytime, any way that works for you. I accept who you are and your responsibilities. But I love you, Sam. And I'm yours, whenever you want me.” Daphne Belrose was the ultimate temptation.

He kissed her then, longingly, with all the anguish and hunger he felt, and she returned it, and then stood back, smiling at him, and let herself quietly out of his office.

Chapter 10

A
lex only had to wait for half an hour in the waiting room, and then Dr. Herman took her into his office and asked her how she was doing. She told him she was still tired after the surgery, but had very little pain, and he was very pleased at what he saw when he took off her dressing. He said it was very clean, and the sutures were healing nicely. In fact, she was doing even better than he'd hoped. And he'd had the final results of her tests. They had been pretty much as he'd expected, four of her lymph nodes were involved, the tumor was hormone receptor negative, and she was the perfect candidate for chemo. In a little more than two weeks, he was going to start her on chemotherapy, as soon as she was stronger.

To Alex, it was not good news, but it was also not unexpected. And he had already explained the process to her. She had a minimum of nodular involvement, which was a good sign, in spite of her Stage II tumor.

“The wound is very clean,” he explained, “if you decide to go ahead with reconstruction later on, your plastic surgeon will be very pleased.” He seemed quite happy with everything, and Alex wanted to be too, but the fact was that she had lost a breast the week before, and had been told she had cancer. These were hardly causes for celebration. And now she knew for sure that she had to face chemo.

And then the doctor turned to her with curiosity, wondering how she was doing. She seemed a little more somber than usual, but that was also to be expected. “Have you looked at the wound yet yourself?” She shook her head at him, looking frightened.

“Perhaps you should. You have to prepare yourself. And what about your husband?”

“He hasn't seen it either.” She had the suspicion that he was terrified, and she was right of course. But she couldn't blame him, she didn't want to see it either.

“I urge you to look at it. You'll be bathing again soon, and of course you'll see yourself, but a good look in the mirror won't hurt. It's time to face it.” But nothing he had said to her prepared her for what she saw, when she went home and slowly removed the bandage to shower. She had taken off her dress, and the bra she'd worn, and then slowly pulled off her dressing, and with a determined look, she walked over to the mirror. She tried to keep her eyes on her face, but slowly, she let them drift down, until she screamed, and took a step backwards from the mirror. It wasn't possible. It was hideous beyond belief it was so ugly. Where her breast had been, there was a flat slab of flesh. It was pink now, but it would be white one day, and across it was a red scar where they had made the incision, cut away her breast, and its skin and even its nipple, and then sewed it together. She thought it was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen, and even knowing that it might have saved her life did nothing to console her. She felt sick after looking at it, and she sat down on the carpet on the bathroom floor and hugged her knees as she sobbed. It was almost an hour later when Carmen heard her. She was still sitting there, crying like a child, hiccuping and sobbing.

“Oh Mrs. Parker …Mrs. Parker …what happened? … are you hurt? Should I call the doctor? …Mrs. Parker?” Alex couldn't stop crying. All she could do was shake her head, as she cried and clutched her knees close to her single bosom.

“Go away … go away …” she cried, sounding like Annabelle, and Carmen got down on her knees next to her, crying for her as she would for an injured child.

“Don't cry …don't cry … we all love you …” she said, as she put her arms around her.

But Alex could only shake her head and cry louder. “He hates me …I'm so ugly … he hates me….”

“I will call him,” she said reassuringly, and Alex let out a scream, and dropped her head down on her knees, begging Carmen not to call him.

“Just leave me.” Carmen tried to hold her but Alex wouldn't let her, and eventually Carmen didn't know what else to do, and went back to the kitchen. She sat there listening to her cry, dabbing at her own eyes, until finally Alex stopped. “Will you please pick Annabelle up?” Alex said to Carmen in an exhausted voice that was completely devoid of emotion.

“Why don't you do it, Mrs. Parker? She will love to see you.”

“I can't,” she said in a voice that sounded more dead than alive. They had killed her.

“Yes, you can. If you want, I will go with you. Come … we go together …” She led Alex back to her little dressing room, and took out a loosely knit dress and held it out to her. “Annabelle likes this.”

“I can't, Carmen. I can't do it.” She started to sob again, but this time Carmen clung to her shoulders and held her.

“Yes, you can.” They were both crying by then. “I will help you.”

“Why?” Alex wanted to give up and die, but Carmen was holding her and wouldn't let her.

“Because we love you. We are going to help you until you are strong again. You will be fine very soon,” she said confidently, trying to give Alex courage. But Alex only shook her head as she stepped into the knit dress Carmen held for her.

“I won't be fine. They're going to give me chemotherapy.”

“Ah no …” She looked horrified, and then, “All right … we will get through it.” Carmen was determined to help Alex. She was a good woman, and a good employer, and she didn't deserve this. She had a husband who loved her, and a little girl. She had to live for them, and Carmen was going to help her do it. “We go to pick up Annabelle, and then we have lunch. And then you take a nap, and I will take Annabelle to the park.” She was speaking to her like a child, and Alex responded to it from the depths of her anguish. She had never seen anything as ugly as what the surgeon had left her.

But she went with Carmen to Annabelle's school, and then they walked home quietly. Alex was silent, but Annabelle didn't seem to notice. And once they were home, Carmen gave them homemade tomato soup, and a turkey sandwich for each of them. And then she tucked Alex into bed, and told Annabelle that her mother needed a nap, which Annabelle thought was a game. She helped Carmen tuck her Mommy into bed, and then they went to the park and played.

She told her Daddy about it late that afternoon, and he wondered if Alex had been playing invalid again, as he put it.

“What's up?” he asked casually, after Annabelle went to bed. “You sleeping all afternoon?” In his voice was a barely concealed tone of disapproval. He didn't want her languishing in front of Annabelle, he had lived with that as a boy, and the memory of it still drove him crazy. Even as an adult now, he had an almost phobic hatred of illness.

“I just took a nap. I was very tired. I went to see Dr. Herman.” Her voice was lifeless as she looked at him, and her eyes gave away nothing.

“Are the results of the pathology reports in?”

“Yes. Four of my nodes are involved. I need chemo,” she said in a dead voice. And then, “He took off my dressing.”

“Great. That's a step forward at least. That should have cheered you up.” He spoke enthusiastically, as though to spur her on, ignoring the fact that she needed chemo, and she looked at him as though he came from another planet.

“Not exactly.”

“Why not? Was there a problem?”

“Not really.” Only a small one …my breast seems to have fallen off with the dressing …

“So what's the big deal? Why are you so tired?”

“What do you want from me?” she snapped at him. “Polaroids? Can't you figure it out for yourself for chrissake? I lost a breast. It's a big deal, to me, if not to you, and I don't buy the idea that it's no big deal to you either. You've been acting like I have leprosy ever since I got home, standing halfway across the room from me. I get the message. You don't think this is so cute either.”

“I never said it was. But it doesn't have to be the tragedy you make it.”

“Maybe not, pal. But let me tell you one thing, it sure ain't pretty.” She looked venomously at him, filled with all the horror of what she had seen in the mirror.

“Don't make it such a big deal. He told you, you can have it rebuilt eventually.”

“Sure, if I want to go through another very painful operation and a bunch of skin grafts and tattoos, and silicone implants, which are dangerous. This is not exactly the tea party you make it out to be.”

“Fine. But don't be such a crybaby for God's sake. Losing a breast is not the worst thing that could happen.”

“What is?”

“Dying,” he said bluntly.

“Give me time, I might do that too. But in the meantime, I seem to have misplaced a few things I was rather fond of. One of them is my left breast, and the other one is my husband. You seem to have gone right out the window with my tit, or hadn't you noticed? Because I have. I'm sick and tired of your disappearing act, of your acting like I don't exist, because you can't cope with what happened.”

“That's not true,” he said angrily, all the more so because it was and he knew it.

“The hell it isn't. You haven't been here for me once since I got the news, and ever since the surgery, you've been treating me like your maiden aunt and not your wife. How long is that going to go on, Sam? How long do I have to do penance for the sin of losing a boob? Until I get it reconstructed so I don't scare you to death when I take my clothes off, or are we shot for good? It might be helpful to know so I don't hang around annoying you, or make you sick sometime when I take a shower.”

“You make me sick with your analysis and accusations. You couldn't make me half as sick if they took both your breasts off.”

“Really? Wanna make a bet? You have no idea how ugly this is. It's a lot worse than you think.”

“It's as bad as you make it. You're the one turning this into an agony. You're the one who can't accept what happened.”

“Are you sure?” She was suddenly unable to control herself a moment longer, and as she stood in front of him she unbuttoned her nightgown. He felt his heart pound as he watched her, but it was too late to stop her, and he knew he had goaded her into it. She slipped it brusquely off one shoulder and then the other, and then she let it drop to the floor without a sound, except a gasp from him. She hadn't bothered to replace the dressing, and he saw everything she had seen that morning. The angry scar, the missing breast, the bright pink flesh. Just as she knew, it was shocking, and his face showed how he felt about it. There was no way on earth he would have touched her. “Pretty, isn't it, Sam?” She was crying now, and gulping air as she sobbed, but he didn't come near her.