The reboot, p.21
The Reboot, page 21
I hang up the phone.
That’s when I notice Helen standing in my doorway, her shoulders drooped, her mouth dangling open.
I’ve never seen her look that dazed in my entire life.
This is not good.
I force a laugh. “These people keep calling me over and over, insisting I need to go in for an annual exam. Ridiculous.”
“You said you don’t have cancer,” Helen says slowly. “And then you said, ‘even if I do.’”
I hate how smart she is sometimes.
“You know doctors,” I say. “Always jumping to ridiculous conclusions.”
“You wouldn’t have said that if there wasn’t something that made you believe that you might have it.”
“Helen,” I say, “trust me—”
She steps closer, her head tilted, her eyes trained on mine. “But I don’t. Not about this. You’re exactly the kind of moron who would try to be all noble and not make us sad after Nate and Mandy. You’d stick your stupid flamingo-like head in the sand—”
“Steve will make me abort the baby.” I set my jaw, and I don’t look away from her gaze. “If I do have cancer, if this dumb test comes back positive, he’ll make me abort him.” I bring one hand over my stomach as if my hand can keep him safe.
“So will I.” Helen’s eyes are flinty. “And I’m a lot more terrifying than Steve.”
This time I can’t help looking at the wall in frustration, and then I plant my hands on the top of my desk. “I’m an adult, Helen, and I can make my own decisions.”
“But you’re making bad ones,” Helen says. “Monumentally stupid ones.” She rushes toward my desk. “Your kids have already lost one parent. Nate may have irritated me, but he was a great father. Do you really want them to lose their mother, too?”
“It’s not—”
She presses her hand across my mouth. “Stop talking. I’m not one of your imbecile clients. I’m smarter than you, and I’m perfectly capable of impersonating you if it comes down to that, and then I’ll see all your ridiculous records for myself. If that fails, I have a team of investigators who will discover anything else I want through any method necessary. Now, tell me what is going on, and don’t leave a single, solitary thing out.”
I collapse back against my chair and exhale in defeat. I start at the beginning, and other than glancing down to click a few things on her phone from time to time, she never looks away from my face. By the time I finish, she looks much calmer. Maybe I’ve convinced her that I’m right.
“Abigail, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”
“I’m not a toddler, and you can’t order me around.”
“If you don’t do everything I say as soon as I say it, I’ll call Steve and then our parents, in that order.”
I hate her. “Fine. What do you want?”
“First, my car’s right outside.”
“So is mine.”
“I drive much faster and my car makes it fun,” she says. “We’re headed for that local airstrip outside of Green River.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Izzy has—”
“Ethan’s helping with her project, and Steve will be home to make sure the kids all get to bed. I told them I’m flying you out to make some critical decisions about the baby shower that can’t wait.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, Abigail. Gambling with your health when four tiny people and one teensy baby all depend on you is what’s ridiculous. Actually, it’s unconscionable. That’s a word that, as a lawyer, you should know. I’ve called in a few favors, and you’ll be getting your core-needle biopsy today.”
“It’s already after five p.m.”
“And that matters. . .” Helen tilts her head.
“Nothing is open,” I say.
“For you,” Helen says. “For people like you, nothing is open. For people like me, nothing is ever really closed. Now, get up and let’s go.”
I really hate her. “If the results come back positive—”
Helen leans closer. “You better pray to that God you love so much harder than you’ve ever prayed in your life. Because the only way you’re getting out of this alive is if you don’t have cancer. If you do, I’ll kill you myself for being an idiot.”
Something about her diatribe breaks the walls I’ve built to keep myself sane through all this, and I start to shake uncontrollably. My horrifyingly scary sister circles my desk, pulls me to my feet, and hugs me tightly. “It’s going to be alright, Abs, I swear. Helen’s here.”
For a brief moment, I let go of all my fear, all my worries, and all my anxiety. For my baby, for my kids, for Steve.
And for myself.
Because as brave as I may try to be, I’ve been really scared, too. My voice wobbles when I whisper, “I don’t want to die.”
“I know,” she says. “And if money can save your stupid life, then you won’t.”
She wasn’t kidding about how fast she drives. After a few moments of white knuckles, I finally complain. “You know, dying in a car crash might be more exciting than cancer, but it’s still dead.”
She laughs.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I.” She doesn’t slow down until we reach the hangar.
“Where are we headed?”
“Where do I have the most connections?” She shrugs. “New York, of course.”
The flight feels longer than usual, but of course that’s all in my head. There’s no security to clear, and there are no extraneous stops. We fly straight to New York, land in a private airstrip, and then a driver takes us right to a local hospital.
It’s quite late by the time we arrive, but no one seems to have told Mount Sinai it should be closed. Apparently the city that never sleeps has also spawned a medical center that never sleeps. I’ve barely changed into my gown when they come for me with a wheelchair.
“Is this really necessary?”
Helen waves her phone at me. “Do you really have to protest every single thing?” She taps the screen and swivels it toward me. It’s a phone number that’s been saved as Stone Cold Cowboy Hottie. “Because my finger is itching to call your husband and tattle on you.”
I sigh, but I don’t complain any more. In fact, thinking of Helen saving Steve as a stone cold hottie makes me smile.
The biopsy’s quick, relatively speaking, but it’s not at all pleasant. After sitting through all the appointments where Nate was poked and prodded and jabbed, I’m pretty familiar with being on Helen’s side of things.
It’s my first time being the patient, and I don’t like it any better.
Finally, it’s done, and the nurse, the doc, and the orderlies are on their way out the door.
“How long until we know what the results are?” Helen asks.
“A few hours,” the doc says before he disappears.
Helen folds her arms. “Now, we wait.”
20
Abigail
An awful lot of our lives are spent waiting.
We wait when we pick up our kids from school. We wait on prescriptions. We wait on the weather. We wait on new books. We wait on our favorite show to release a new episode. We wait for loved ones to forgive us. Of all the things we wait on, test results might be the worst.
Helen’s checking her watch, so I know I’m not the only one who’s annoyed.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s about time you apologized to me.”
Our family isn’t one that apologizes easily. Then again, we don’t make it easy when someone finally does say they’re sorry, either. “You’re so gracious at accepting.”
“I have exactly one sister,” she says. “And you’ve met my parents. If you leave me alone with them, so help me, I’ll—”
The doctor peeks his head in the door. “Is now a bad time?”
When Helen stands up, I can’t help noticing that her hands are shaking. She balls them into fists, and I watch her straighten and swallow. “No. Please come in.” She looks more strung out than I feel, and I’m the one who might be sick.
The doctor steps inside the room slowly, holding a clipboard with papers stacked on the top. He looks down at them, adjusting his glasses. As if my life’s unfurling before me like a spool of thread, I’m reminded of the moment the doctor came in with Nate’s results. We had gone to the emergency room because his eyes had turned yellow, and we knew that meant something major was wrong. We were still hopeful, in that moment, that it might not be something very dire.
But I will never forget the deep and soul-drenching fear that gripped me at that point in time. It was like I couldn’t breathe, and like the world had gone black, and like the Night King was coming for me, all at the same time.
Battling with that fear was a desperate and valiant hope.
No matter what the doctor says, I owe Helen an even bigger apology, because I know what this moment is like. I’ve been through it before, and I should’ve known how scared she was. Instead of sulking in the corner and whining and complaining, I should’ve hugged her. I should’ve told her it’ll all be okay. I should’ve reassured her.
“The results of the core-needle biopsy are preliminary, but I’ve consulted with the radiologist, and we both feel—”
“For the love of all that’s holy, doc, spit it out!” Helen looks like she’s going to strain something any second.
He smiles. “It appears to be benign. The incidence of false negatives is less than four percent. We’ll want to do some follow up testing, and if it’s a cyst, you may want to drain it, but it should be a very minor procedure that won’t interfere with your pregnancy.”
Helen sinks into her chair.
I collapse into mine and drop my face in my hands. All these months worrying. . .for nothing. I place my hands over my belly. “It’s going to be alright, little guy. Mom’s fine.”
Once the doctor has said his piece and gone, I really lose it. Helen’s not doing much better, and we’re in the middle of bawling and hugging and blathering when my phone rings.
It’s Steve.
There’s no way I can talk to him right now. I’ll have to call him back.
Ten seconds later, he texts me.
WHY ARE YOU IN THE HOSPITAL? CALL ME. RIGHT NOW.
My heart stops in my chest.
“How does he know where you are?” Helen’s peering over my shoulder.
It’s probably not the best time for me to lecture her on the etiquette violation of reading over my shoulder, but I’m annoyed. “We installed this software because Ethan’s always losing his phone. Once, it fell in the pasture and got rained on.” I groan. “If you really can’t find it, even with a ping, you can check its last known location.”
“And?”
“When you boot up the program on the laptop, it shows the location of every device that’s linked to our account. He must have been looking for Ethan’s and noticed mine.”
“So?” She tilts her head. “Just tell him what happened. You don’t have cancer, so he can’t get too mad.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not telling him that I thought I might have cancer.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Well, I think you’re going to have to, now.”
I pick up my phone like it’s a viper that might strike. “I guess so.”
“Is it really that scary? The man adores you.”
I groan. “But that’s why he’s going to be so angry.”
She shrugs. “Not my problem.” She points at the door. “I’m going to call our car.”
I nod, and then my finger hovers. I know I should hit talk, but I can’t bring myself to—
The phone rings and I nearly drop it.
It’s Steve. Again.
This time I force my finger to stop trembling and I swipe talk.
“Abigail?”
“I’m ready to confess,” I say. “I’m having an affair with a doctor at Mount Sinai in New York.”
“Very funny,” he says. “Is the baby alright?”
Right. The baby. Of course he’d assume this was about him.
“Helen’s exactly the kind of person who would whisk you away to have things checked out without me.”
I can’t help my chuckle, even though it’s wildly inappropriate. “Yeah. So, actually.”
“What?”
“I might have found a lump.”
“A what?”
“In my breast,” I say. “A while ago.”
Dead silence.
“But don’t worry,” I rush to say. “We got a core-needle biopsy just now, and it’s benign.”
Still nothing.
“Are you there?”
“You found it a while ago? What does that mean, exactly?”
“I was worried that if the news wasn’t good, you might. . .”
“I might what?”
“Make me—try to—well, argue with me. About the baby.”
“You’re the most articulate person I know, and you can’t talk?”
“I was worried, after the conversation we had about that woman, that patient, that you might insist I abort the baby for treatment.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“No, I know you aren’t.”
“Do you?”
“I do, Steve. I love you. But I also know that, as a doctor, you see things differently than I do, and sometimes we don’t agree.”
“We could have worked through those differences, if you had told me what was going on.”
“I know. I should have.”
“When will you be home?”
“It’s Helen’s plane. I guess we can come back tonight.”
“Stay at a hotel,” he says. “Staying up all night’s not great for the baby or for you.”
“Okay.”
“We can talk when you’re back.”
“Are you mad?”
“I’m choosing to focus on the fact that I’m relieved,” he says. “Have that doctor email me all the results, please.”
“You’re actually not angry?”
He sighs. “This is hard to do over the phone, Abby, but we’re brand new. You haven’t known me that long. I’m choosing to believe that this is just a product of our limited time together. I may have my medical opinions, but I also respect you and your body. I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me, and I suppose that failure may be partially my fault.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not your fault.”
“Alright,” he says. “Like I said, we can talk about it when you get home.”
“You’re really not angry?” Why can’t I stop asking that?
The answer surprises me: I’m afraid. I didn’t expect to find someone like Steve, someone I love even more than I loved Nate, if I’m being honest. Someone who takes care of me, someone who gets me, someone who adores and is patient with the kids. A hard worker who’s also generous and thoughtful.
A stone cold cowboy hottie who I love to kiss, even now.
And if my lack of trust causes unhappiness between us, I’ll never forgive myself. I’m scared of losing him precisely because of how much I love him. Maybe that’s part of why I hid this from him in the first place.
“I’m disappointed in myself,” he says. “It would be really hard for me to be angry with you. You’ve given me everything.”
And then I’m crying. Again. “Don’t worry.” I hiccup. “I’m fine. It’s just the hormones,” I say.
“It’s been a really long few weeks.” He sighs. “I can’t wait until you’re back and I can hug you. I love you, Abby.”
“I love you, too.”
Helen’s rolling her eyes when I hang up. “Don’t even tell me. I heard.” She makes a gagging sound. “Of course the perfect man isn’t mad at the perfect woman, even when she’s a complete moron.”
I’m lucky. I get it. “That’s what I have you for, making sure I know just how stupidly I’ve behaved.”
“Darn straight.”
“Steve says we should get a hotel.”
“I own a penthouse here,” she says. “And I own a very nice hotel, as well. But I recommend the penthouse.”
How did I forget that she lives here, most of the time?
She spends the next forty minutes, as we head to her posh apartment that I’ve never seen, berating me for making poor life choices. But once we’re in her apartment, and I’m wearing her obscenely expensive pajamas, and we’re both brushing our teeth, she just. . .stops.
I take that as my sign to retreat. Quickly, before she finds her second wind. As I’m darting toward the guest room, she says, “Abby.”
“Yeah?” I turn to face her.
“I love you.”
We Fishers don’t apologize much, but we say ‘I love you’ even less often.
“I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
Whoa. Two apologies in one day? And she’s telling me she’s sorry? Will miracles never cease? “For what?”
“If I were less abrasive, or if I were around more—basically, if I were a better sister, you’d probably have told me. I wouldn’t have had to overhear, and then you’d have been spared all those months of worry.”
“Thank you for flying me out here, thank you for taking care of everything, and thank you for being here now.”
She trots across her gorgeous, hand-scraped hardwood floors and practically accosts me by plowing into me. Then she hugs me so tightly in that moment, that it almost feels like Mandy’s back. No one else has ever hugged me quite as tightly as she did, until Helen, tonight.
As if she’s trying to show me that she’s here now, really here, Helen spends the next week expanding the prior plans for the baby shower even more. I’m worried that it’s going to be the most outrageous baby shower the world has ever seen, but after the secrets I kept, I find it very hard to tell her no. How am I supposed to rein her in?
When I know where it’s coming from. . .
Life’s short. It’s uncertain. She’s missed a lot of it already.
But she’s here now.
There’s a beauty in the desire to show someone that, and it’s healthy to want to celebrate the moments we’re all sharing while we can. After losing Mandy, I think we’re all a little more aware of that blessing, celebrating the now.
