Once Upon a Project (16 page)

Chapter 26

 

E
lyse called Susan on Wednesday and told her about Franklin. “I don't know what to say, Elyse,” Susan said after an audible gasp. “I'm glad to know that Franklin came through it okay, of course. I just wish I'd known sooner. I would have, I don't know, made dinner for your family or something.”

“That's sweet of you, Susan. Franklin isn't ready to tell a lot of people about his illness, but I did call Pat last week, as soon as I found out. I just felt so overwhelmed. I had to confide in somebody. I knew Pat would tell Grace, and I felt you should know, too.” Elyse hoped Susan wouldn't feel left out, but the truth was that she'd always felt closest to Pat.

“I appreciate it.” Susan sighed. “You know, Elyse, you and I really should see more of each other. We live closer to each other than we do to Pat and Grace. Of course, with everything that's going on, I realize this isn't a good time for us to start being girlfriends, but surely there's something I can do to help. Just tell me what I can do.”

“I think I've got everything covered. Franklin will be in the hospital at least until next Thursday or Friday. I'm off today, and I'll be going down to see him as soon as I'm off the phone. The kids will see him this evening, and then again in the morning before they go back to school. They'll be back on Saturday. They're getting ready for their final exams.”

“Are you off the rest of the week?”

“No, just today. I'll be working a light schedule for now, so I can see Franklin in the mornings and again after work. They'll release him to the skilled nursing center where I work in Evanston.”

“Will you be his physical therapist?” To Susan that sounded like a surgeon operating on his or her spouse.

“No, that wouldn't work. But at least I won't be far away and I can speak with his therapist about his progress. He'll get daily strength training for about a week, two sessions a day. If all goes well he should be back at home by the following weekend.”

“It sounds like he's had a very intense procedure.”

“He did. They took out the head of his pancreas, half of his stomach, his gallbladder, some lymph nodes, and part of his digestive tract. It took over seven hours. Some patients don't even survive it.”

“Oh, Elyse.” The distress Susan felt carried into her tone. “How will you manage when he comes home?”

“It depends. I've thought about hiring a home health aide to care for him, but patients aren't released from rehab until they can manage their daily activities on their own. Still, I hate to think of him being home alone.”

“Won't Todd and Brontë be finished with their exams by then?”

“Yes, but they both have jobs lined up for the summer, and I don't want to ask them to give them up. The sticky part will be trying to convince Franklin that he needs someone to help him. I know my husband, and he can be awfully stubborn.”

“Do you think he's worried about the cost?”

“No. There's no need to. We carry supplemental insurance to help with lost income due to illness or accident. That kicked in the moment of Franklin's diagnosis, even though we don't really need it now. I spoke to the benefits specialist at his job and found out that Franklin will collect a full paycheck for up to twelve weeks. Plus, he'd bought another policy for home care so that we won't go broke if either of us ever needs a home health care aide. So it's definitely not the money. It's more of a pride thing.”

“It's hard, especially for men, to be ill,” Susan remarked.

“He's not going to be an easy patient. I wanted to take more time off, but Franklin insisted that he doesn't want me hovering around him like a mama bear. He wants things to be as normal as possible.”

Susan nodded. She, too, had hoped for a return to normalcy after her lumpectomy, but her marriage never recovered. “I understand. But promise you'll call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Maybe we can have lunch or something, like Kevin and I are going to do on Friday.”

“Kevin Nash? You've spoken to him?” Susan didn't hide her surprise.

“I haven't actually spoken to him, but he dropped me an e-mail while I was waiting for Pat to respond. She didn't call me back right away. It turns out she was getting ready to go out of town for the weekend, but I didn't know that at the time. When she didn't call back I tried e-mailing her. In the meantime, there was Kevin's note. By this time I was about to bust from holding everything in, so I told him about Franklin. I e-mailed him last night to let him know everything went well, and he suggested we have lunch together. He said it might take some of the stress off. He works in Evanston like me, so it's convenient. Maybe you and I can do the same next week.”

“Sure.”

After they finished talking, Susan wondered how wise it was of Elyse to lunch with a handsome and virile man like Kevin Nash when Franklin would be at his weakest.

Matters between her and Bruce had barely improved over the last few weeks, since her efforts to regain his physical interest in her had gone so horribly wrong. She'd slept most of that disastrous Saturday night in their spare room, arising shortly after dawn and returning to their bed before Quentin and Alyssa got up. Relations between them were civil but not much else. She kept telling herself it would still be wrong to reach out to Charles Valentine. She was married to Bruce, and she didn't believe in cheating.

But she was desperately unhappy. She felt like she was going through each day with a twenty-pound weight around her neck.

Saturday night she and Bruce made love—no, that wasn't the right definition of what they'd done. They'd had sex, with him pushing her nightgown up to her waist and gripping her hips, satisfying himself and, much as she hated to admit it, giving her some degree of pleasure in the most basic of ways. As always since her surgery, he ignored her breasts, even the one that had been unaffected. Once more she hoped he would come around, perhaps give them a little squeeze through her nightgown; or, even afterward, grasp them in his sleep like he used to do. Once more she'd been disappointed, and she fell asleep with tears in her eyes.

Her oncologist had offered her a referral to a plastic surgeon to correct the shape of her right breast, but Susan thought the best action would be to let it be. The last thing she wanted was to undergo another surgical procedure, no matter how minor. Besides, she wasn't sure it was such a hot idea to remove the evidence of what she'd gone through. She almost liked having that small physical imperfection to remind her daily that her future was by no means guaranteed. Having cancer changed her entire outlook. She learned to view life in six-month increments, like the six-month follow-up she'd had recently, after which she was given a clean bill of health. No more planning for what she would do next year or the year after that; not until she had a damn good idea that she'd still be around. She would never be the same or feel the same . . . so why should she
look
the same?

She wished Bruce would understand that, or that he'd even talk to her about it. His face showed no revulsion the first time he saw the breast with the bandage removed and the little cone protruding from the side.

She could still see the relief on his face, could still hear him say, “Thank God you're all right, Susan. I'd be lost if anything happened to you.”

She remembered how anxious she'd been that day, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. There'd been no hints of the change in his demeanor that lay just ahead, once his relief that she would survive began to wear off.

At first she'd been sure it would pass, but eight months had gone by with more of the same. And it was eating her up inside. Susan wanted—hell, she
deserved
—full and complete happiness, not just a placid, empty existence for the benefit of their children.

She thought about how Elyse, whose husband's illness seemed much more pressing than her own, had reached out to friends, including one who happened to be a man, for support. Because when you were feeling lost and alone, it didn't really matter where your support came from, did it?—as long as it was genuine and heartfelt.

Susan considered that maybe she'd been suffering silently long enough.

She reached for her wallet and pulled out the folded paper on which Charles Valentine had written his number. Then she pulled out her cell phone.

Chapter 27

 

S
usan sat in her parked car, asking herself what the hell she was doing. She'd just lied to Bruce, telling him she was going to spend the afternoon with Elyse in the wake of Franklin's illness. In truth, she'd just had lunch with Elyse yesterday, returning to Pleasant Prairie in time to pick up Quentin and Alyssa from school.

She believed in marriage. Her own parents' union was a disaster, but the culprit had been alcohol abuse, not infidelity. In her heart, she didn't want to do anything dishonorable. She wasn't even sure she could.

But she'd always been able to confide her deepest thoughts to Charles, and she really needed to talk to someone about the situation with Bruce. She didn't want to see a counselor, not solo. Bruce had ruled that out. What could a psychologist possibly tell her when her husband wouldn't even come with her? She didn't need to pay someone big bucks for that person to tell her that Bruce was the one who needed help dealing with her illness.

As far as nonprofessionals, Susan didn't want to talk about her unhappiness to her mother, either. Frances McMillan, in Susan's opinion, had weathered more than her share of stressful situations in her lifetime: a difficult interracial marriage long before such unions became common, single parenthood, and most recently, the death of her second husband from a sudden heart attack. Susan didn't want her mother's twilight years filled with worry about her firstborn. Frances did worry about Susan's health, but Susan knew that Frances took comfort knowing that at least Susan had a strong marriage, because Frances had said as much on more than one occasion. Susan couldn't bring herself to take away her mother's peace of mind by telling her the truth.

Then there was her sister. Sherry had decided early on that white was, if not right, at least better. She caught the eye of a good-looking finance major while at UIC and held on to him. Today he was a fund manager at a big brokerage firm, and they lived in Lake Forest, not far from Elyse. Sherry had taken off more than a dozen years to raise their children, but had returned to teaching at a private academy in town. While Sherry's husband and children knew about her mixed racial background, Susan doubted they ran around telling anyone about their black grandmother. Sherry's preference to downplay her biracial heritage had long been a source of friction between the sisters.

Susan understood why Franklin had been against telling anyone outside of the immediate family about his illness. People looked at you differently when they knew you were sick. Franklin would probably be mad as hell if he knew Elyse had told at least four people—Pat, Grace, Kevin, and her—about his condition. Susan had asked Bruce not to disclose her diagnosis to anyone, and as far as she knew he hadn't. When her neighbors asked what was wrong, or if she'd been hospitalized for anything serious, she just shrugged and said she was fine.

She also understood that women tended to be less stoic than men. Women needed to share their concerns and needed to know they could trust their friends. Men seemed to be better equipped to keep their worries to themselves. Susan knew that Elyse and Pat would be sympathetic to her, but despite their best intentions they would feel sorry for her . . . a reaction she couldn't bear.

Grace was a different story. Ever since Grace had been a little girl, she'd always had a way of downplaying the good fortune of others and emphasizing their hard luck. It still annoyed her when, after Christmas the year they turned twelve, Grace had pointed out that the bottom of her new maxicoat had gotten all wet from a puddle. Grace made no secret of the fact that she wanted one of the new-style coats for Christmas, and her disappointment at not getting one was only compounded when Susan came outside for the first time wearing the one she'd just received. Grace sounded absolutely thrilled when she pointed out how dirty street water was. Susan could tell that Grace hoped her coat was ruined. It wasn't, of course, but from that day on Susan looked at Grace with a certain degree of mistrust. Years later, when a trusted friend shared something she'd once seen, it only added to Grace's wariness.

Grace didn't like it when anyone had something she didn't. When the girls had come to see her and baby Alyssa, in the midst of oohs and aahs from Pat and Elyse, Grace managed to point out
two
downbeat facts: one, how difficult it must be for older mothers to lose pregnancy weight, and two, that it was practically impossible for women to get back into the workplace after taking off years to raise children. Susan knew that a lot of Grace's negativity stemmed from the recent bust-up of her second marriage. She was past forty and alone, and eligible men of the right age were hard to find.

At the time Susan merely laughed it off. She and Bruce were in love, their family was now complete with the birth of their daughter, and things couldn't be better. Let Grace sulk if she wanted to. Susan knew Grace would trade places with her in a second if she could.

Just like Grace had tried to take her place years ago, right after Susan broke up with Douglas Valentine. Not that that mattered anymore. Susan knew that it really hadn't mattered when it happened, even though Grace's haste to grab Douglas right after Susan broke up with him did have her reeling. Grace didn't know that Susan had found out about that fling with Douglas, and she had no intention of ever telling her.

Susan knew nothing had changed with the passing years. She'd barely been in Grace's company for fifteen minutes at the luncheon when Grace made that completely unnecessary comment about Pat never marrying, just to make herself feel better about not having a man in her life. Grace wasn't the type of person you'd want around in a time of crisis. She came off about as genuine as a McRib sandwich when it came to the problems of others.

Susan glanced down at her breast. God forbid this cancer killed her. She wouldn't put it past Grace to try to make a date with Bruce at her funeral.

No, she couldn't tell her friends about her frustration. But thank God for Charles.

She grabbed her keys and pushed open the restaurant door. She'd made a date, and it was time to keep it.

 

 

Susan spotted Charles as soon as she got inside the barbecue restaurant, which was down the street from the school where he taught. He sat at a table by the window, a tall glass of Coca-Cola in front of him, looking out on Armitage Avenue. The way he smiled at her warmed her heart. He stood as she approached. When she reached him, he took her hand and kissed her cheek with a tenderness Bruce hadn't demonstrated since the night before her surgery. “Glad you could make it.”

“I hope you weren't waiting long.”

“I barely had time to order a pop. I'm sorry, there's no bar.”

“I don't need to drink. I've got to drive back to Wisconsin. Bottled water will be fine.”

Charles left to get the beverage, returning with a laminated menu. They took time out to peruse it, and he left once more, this time to place the order in this small restaurant with a front register and no waitstaff. Susan knew that he would soon ask why she asked to see him, something he'd been too polite to ask when she called. Would she be able to tell him the truth?

“I'm glad you called me, Susan,” he began, “but I have to wonder why. Was there something on your mind?”

She met his gaze head-on. “I guess I just needed a friend.”

“A friend? When I saw you, you were with the girls who've been your friends all your life.”

“Yes, and it was great to see them. I think seeing them again, especially Pat and Grace, reminded me of all I've been missing. At least the two of them keep in touch. Elyse is as far removed as I've been.”

“So you feel like there's a hole in your life somewhere? Even living up there in Wisconsin?”

“Oh, it's a nice life. A nice house, great kids, good neighbors.” She saw his quizzical look and knew he wondered why she didn't mention her husband.

Instead of asking about Bruce, he asked, “How about friends?”

“Your typical suburban street, where everyone knows each other. We're friendly, but we don't really get into each other's business. There's no one I'd feel comfortable revealing my deep, dark secrets to.” She smiled at him across the table. “But with you it's different, Charles. It doesn't even seem like any time has passed since you and I were seeing each other.”

Her smile faded at his next words.

“But it has, Susan. It's been half a lifetime for us. Sure, I live in the same apartment I did back then. But you're married, and you've got a whole new life, far removed from the South Side.”

She hadn't the proverbial leg to stand on as far as objecting to his statement, and she knew it. But she also knew he hadn't said it to be cruel; he was merely pointing out the way things really were.

Charles leaned back into the booth. “Tell you what. We don't have to talk about it right now. Why don't we just enjoy our lunch?”

They talked about other topics as they ate. After he paid the check—Susan wanted to, saying lunch had been her idea, but he insisted—he suggested they go to the lakefront and walk off their meal.

He drove his maroon Blazer, and she followed in the M-Class Mercedes SUV that Bruce gifted her with for Christmas two years before. They parked next to each other in one of the lots.

“Nice ride,” Charles commented, his hand resting on the Mercedes's waxed black exterior. “I'd like to get one of these myself. Of course, just being a teacher . . .”

“Teaching is important, too, Charles.”

“Yeah, but it doesn't pay as well as your old man's field.”

She sensed he was goading her. And it was working, if that lump that suddenly formed in her throat was any indicator. “Money isn't everything, Charles.”

They began walking companionably down a concrete path, their shoulders brushing every few seconds. It was a cool spring day, in the low sixties, a cloud cover keeping the temperature lower than usual and the standard crowds away. They passed no one as they walked.

“No, it isn't,” he said. After a half minute of silence, he asked, “Susan, is your husband making you unhappy?”

She could delay no longer—the time had come to tell him why she'd contacted him. She found that the words tumbled out with surprising ease. “Yes, and I'll tell you why. Last year I went for my annual gynecological exam, and my doctor felt a lump in my breast. It turned out to be malignant.”

“You look healthy,” he said, ending with a slightly raised tone of a question. “It was probably caught in time.”

She didn't miss the quick survey he did of her, looking for obvious signs of poor health, but to her relief she saw no pity in his eyes, only concern. “Yes, it looks that way. Of course, one never knows how long these things last. I had a lumpectomy and radiation treatments. I feel good, and my last exam showed no cancer.”

“I feel a ‘but' coming.”

Susan smiled. He sounded relieved to hear she was doing okay. It meant a lot to her to know he cared. Then she looked down, knowing she had to continue. This part was difficult to say, even to Charles. “My husband has been acting like I've got a contagious disease.” She stopped walking, suddenly not sure if she could go through with it. “You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea—”

Charles grabbed her arm as she began to move in the other direction. “Uh-uh. You called me because you wanted to tell me something. I'm not letting you go until you tell me.”

“And I told you, Charles. Now I'm realizing how stupid the whole thing is.” She took on a deliberate falsetto, whiny tone. “‘My husband doesn't think I'm attractive anymore, so I called you because I liked the way you looked at me.'” She reverted to her normal voice. “That's my deep, dark secret. Now I feel like a fool, and I'd prefer to do that in private.”

“It sounds like you've been doing too much in private, Susan. Have you forgotten what you told me less than an hour ago? That you needed a friend?”

She covered her face with her hands, certain she'd made an ass of herself and feeling herself about to crumble. Charles stepped forward and embraced her, politely nodding to two young mothers pushing baby strollers with toddlers strapped inside as they passed. They glanced at Susan with curious eyes but kept walking. Displays of emotion weren't all that unusual at the lake front, where people confronted lives as turbulent as the waters of Lake Michigan just a few dozen yards away.

Susan composed herself, and she and Charles resumed walking, his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. They said little, content just to be in each other's company.

After an hour, Charles said, “We should probably head back. It'll take a little time to get back to the cars from here.”

“All right.”

“I'm curious. What'd you tell your husband you were doing this afternoon?”

“I told him I was spending the afternoon with Elyse. Her husband just had a malignant tumor removed, and she's feeling a little frightened right now. I did see her yesterday.”

“And you told Elyse not to call your house and blow your alibi.”

“No, I didn't. I gave her my cell phone number yesterday and asked her to call me on that because she'll always be able to reach me. She's got too much to do to be calling me, anyway. I'm sure she's down at the hospital right now. I didn't tell her I'm meeting you. She doesn't even know I'm a cancer patient.”

“She doesn't?”

“Very few people know, Charles. My husband. My mother. My sister and brother-in-law. And now you. Even my kids don't know. We thought it best that they not worry about things they don't fully understand. They know I was in the hospital for an operation, but none of the details.”