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“You know I love watching our boy, honey. I’m worried about you right now.”
“Bry,” she responds, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling she’s in trouble.
“Talk to me, Mags.”
“I’m just tired, Bryant. I promise. I just need a nap.”
“And a massage,” I add, a ghost of smile on my face even though she can’t see it.
“And a massage,” she agrees, sounding a little less lost.
“You know, Maggie May, I’ve been told I’ve got good hands,” I flirt.
“And who told you that?” she laughs.
“Some crazy Lucas girl.”
“I’d take you up on it, but you and I seem unable to stop at just a back rub,” she responds, and she’s not wrong.
“Bring a bag and I’ll fix dinner for us tomorrow night.”
“But—”
“That new movie is streaming that Terry’s been wanting to watch and I’ll make your favorite.”
“Damn, you’re pulling out the big guns making pasta,” she murmurs.
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll bring out an even bigger gun after Terry goes to bed,” I promise.
“I shouldn’t…”
“Dinner’s served at seven, Maggie May,” I respond, clicking the phone off.
2
Maggie
I look around the barren room. The walls are painted a boring beige that should have been warm and inviting, and instead, come off cold and impersonal. There are some plaques on the wall and framed diplomas. The worn, green carpet beneath my feet seems as dated as the cherry wood desk in front of me.
I don’t want to be here. I feel out of control and that’s not who I am.
Not anymore.
I’ve built my life around control. That’s who I’ve become, who life beat me into becoming. Since the birth of my son, I’ve carefully built my life on what I thought was a solid foundation of rules that kept me isolated from pain. Yesterday, I found out that I might have built my foundation on a deck of cards that had been carefully stacked and are about to fall over. My body tightens as the door behind me opens. In walks a tall, skinny woman with black stiletto heels, black dress pants and white lab coat. I watch her walk in from my peripheral vision. I don’t know why I don’t turn around to acknowledge her—other than I can’t hardly breathe. When she walks to her desk, she stands behind it, and still, my gaze doesn’t lift to her. I find myself focusing on her name plate. Dr. Lark Hall.
“I’m sorry I’m late Ms. Matthews. It has been a hectic day.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, clearing my throat. Finally, I find the courage to look at her, and I hate that there’s fear in the pit of my stomach, bubbling like acid—but there’s nothing I can do.
She sits down and my eyes move to the metal name badge on her coat. I stare at it until the name blurs.
“I reviewed your mammogram and there’s a particular area that is of concern,” she says, and that feeling of dread that I’ve had since getting the letter in the mail three days ago explodes inside of me.
“Do I have cancer?” I ask, whispering the words that I don’t want to voice. I’m scared that once I say it, it will become real.
“Sometimes, these areas will show up on a mammogram, and when we do a second mammogram, it will be nothing. Sometimes, we may need to go in and biopsy the area, but neither of those things mean it’s cancer,” she answers. I nod, but my brain has frozen with the word biopsy. “I know you’re worried, Ms. Matthews, but I want you to have faith in me as your doctor. Let’s take a breath and go in steps.”
I nod. “What’s step one?” I ask anxiously.
“The first is to breathe and realize that a lot of the time what you’re going through is nothing. There’s no reason not to believe everything will turn out fine.”
I moisten my lips and, doing as Dr. Hall suggested, take a deep breath.
“Okay, Doc. I’m putting myself in your hands,” I respond.
“Good. Let’s get that other mammogram done. We’ll get the results back and go from there.”
I stand up and channel some of that Lucas backbone that I inherited from my mother. “Then let’s get on with the boob squishing,” I joke, making Dr. Hall laugh.
3
Bryant
“Yeah, man, I appreciate it. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I respond, clicking my phone off and tossing it onto the counter.
I let Terry sleep in this morning and then took him to school. I know Maggie told me to take him to her mom’s, but there just wasn’t a need. I called work early this morning and told them I wouldn’t be there. As a physical therapist and trainer, I specialize in sports teams. I’m currently employed by a major league baseball team, but I’m not exactly happy. That means, there’s probably a job change in my future. Regardless, my team isn’t on the road right now, so it’s fine. Just now, I followed up to make sure everything was handled. I don’t know what’s going on with Maggie, but something is off, and I just feel like I need to pay attention to her.
