On Second Thought, Page 3

  It wasn't exactly new territory, or great writing. Every Monday morning, Jonathan would fix me with a dead-eyed stare after he read the blog. I didn't care. It wasn't like Hudson Lifestyle was Newsweek. And besides, Eric was always very flattering when he referenced me. He called me Sunshine on the blog, rather than using my real name. To protect my privacy, he said, though I wouldn't have minded being outed.

  "Why doesn't anyone comment?" Eric asked a few weeks after he started, and that was when I made up a bunch of fake usernames and started posting. Lucy1991, CancerSux9339, EdouardenParis, LivefromNewYork28, DaveMatthewsFan! and LovesToRead288 were actually all me.

  There'd been this one woman who'd had chemo at the same place Eric went. Noreen. She'd been so, so sick, so thin it was a wonder her legs held her. No hair, no eyebrows, sores at her IV sites, yeast infections in her mouth, bleeding gums, yellow skin and slack, hollow eyes, a cough so hard I was surprised she didn't bring up her large intestine. It was her third time around with cancer. The odds were not in her favor.

  But Noreen always smiled, asked after the nurses' kids by name, sometimes even crocheted little blankets for the preemies in the neonatal unit when she had the strength. Never lost her sense of humor, wore funny T-shirts that said My Oncologist Can Beat Up Your Oncologist and Does This Shirt Make Me Look Bald? She was never anything but gracious, kind and happy. Every time I went in to sit with Eric, I was terrified Noreen wouldn't be there, that the cancer finally devoured her.

  Against all odds, she made it. In fact, she ran a half marathon last month and raised more than twenty-five grand for cancer research. That was when Eric started training for one, too.

  But Eric's cancer journey had been...well, it had been easy. Easy as cancer journeys go, that is. No hair loss (though he did shave his head). Only two days of puking and diarrhea that might've been caused by some iffy sushi. He lost fifteen pounds, but then again, he needed to, and it was more through our new macrobiotic diet than because of chemo. There was one week where he took a nap every day.

  So what Rob's wife had said was true. If there was a cancer you had to have, testicular was the way to go. And Eric had sailed through it like a champ.

  I knew he exaggerated on his blog, but I didn't bring it up. He had cancer, for the love of God.

  And he won. Maybe his battle wasn't as tough as other people's, but he won.

  My throat was tight with happy tears. I set Ollie back on the floor so he could win more hearts and minds, and took a breath, wanting to press our night into my memory forever. Three Wall Streeters were laughing in the corner. Lillie, my college roommate, was giggling with her fiance. Everyone looked so happy.

  Almost everyone, that was.

  "You really went all out, didn't you?" My stepmother, Candy, appeared at my elbow. "I can't imagine what this cost."

  "So worth it, though," I said, determined not to let her ruin my mood.

  "If you say so." She gave me her patented, squinty look of disappointment--I did my best, but look what I had to work with.

  A word about Candy.

  She and Dad were each other's once and future spouses, as it were. The first time around, they met in college, got married, had Sean and Kate. Then, when Kate was seven, they got a divorce.

  Not very long after the divorce--a few months, I was told--Dad married my mother, Michelle, who died when I was three. A pickup truck hit her one Sunday afternoon as she was riding her bike. Six months after that, Dad went back to Candy and married her again.

  Candy wasn't an evil stepmother. She took care of me when I was sick and asked if I did my homework, but...well. She already had her children, and they were past the age when they needed help brushing their teeth. I was not encouraged to call her Mom. "Your mother is in heaven," she'd say calmly if the M-word slipped out, as it sometimes did. "You can call me Candy."

  Dad, who had been a great baseball player in college but not quite good enough to play for a living, was an umpire for Major League Baseball. He traveled seven months of the year, so the bulk of my upbringing fell to Candy. And while she did take my father back, she never got over him dumping her for a younger, prettier woman. Every few years, she'd announce that she was divorcing Dad, though she never followed through.

  Candy had a PhD in psychology and had authored several books on family dynamics, including The Toxic Mommy and Stuck with You: Raising the Recalcitrant Stepchild. Other cheerful titles included Freeing Yourself from Your Family and Parenting When You've Got Nothing Left. She was a bit of a celebrity on the parenting circuit, and also the advice columnist for Hudson Lifestyle, which she wrote under the name Dr. Lovely.

  She was great out in public and took her appearance very seriously--expensive blond hair, glaring white teeth, a perfect size four, five foot two, abs of steel. At book signings and whenever confronted with a fan, she'd morph into a smiley, warm, wonderful person who never minded taking photos.

  With us--with me, I should say--she remained brittle. Which was okay. She had her reasons, and she'd never been cruel or angry toward me. Just resigned. She got her man back, but with the stiff price tag in the form of a toddler.

  "Oh, honey, this is gorgeous," said Eric's mom, Judy, pouncing on me with a hug. "You're so wonderful, you know that? And look at you! So beautiful!"

  "Thanks, Judy!"

  "Candy, how are you? Isn't this a special day?"

  "It is." My stepmother forced a smile, then backed away. Judy and I exchanged a look. We'd gossip about everything tomorrow. Tomorrow, when I'd be engaged.

  "I love your dress. Perfect for tonight!" she said.

  So she knew. Excellent. "Well," I said, feigning innocence, "white for a clean start."

  She pressed her lips together so as not to blurt out the news. Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what he'd do without you, Ainsley," she said. "You're a treasure."

  "Oh, Judy," I said, my voice husky. I gave her a hug, and my sister aimed her camera at us. Kate did take the best pictures.

  "Where's my second-best girl?" Eric's dad asked, joining us. "You look beautiful, darling. Both of you do."

  The Fishers were the best. "You're a daughter to us," his mother had been saying for the past decade. They had the kind of marriage I wanted--affectionate, open, happy and fun. My boyfriend had great role models, that was for sure. We went on vacation with them every year, and we always had a great time, a fact that befuddled my friends.

  Judy and I would go crazy planning the wedding. It could be Jewish, since that would be important to them, and would win me even more points as best daughter-in-law ever. We'd have the canopy and the breaking of the glass and the fun dance with the chairs...

  I looked over at my honey. He stood next to the huge montage of pictures of himself he'd put up. Eric before cancer, a little chubby. Going into the hospital for surgery. Lying in the recovery room afterward. Hooked up to an IV bag. (He asked me to take all these, for the record.) Just after he shaved his head. Wearing his Fuck You, Cancer T-shirt, sitting in his favorite chair, seven prescription bottles next to him.

  He met my eyes and smiled, then clinked a fork on his champagne glass.

  Oh, God, it was time. I looked around, my heart revved up and my toes clenched in the red shoes. Jonathan and Candy were talking in a corner. The frat boys were doing shots. Rachelle was taking a picture of Kate and Nathan, calling them Kate and Nate, and asking Kate about camera settings.

  "Folks, if I could have your attention for a minute," Eric said. I swallowed hard. Everyone quieted and gathered around, ripples of laughter and conversation fluttering out. I hoped Kate would get a picture of the big moment. Oh, man, I was nervous! All these years waiting, and I was shaking!

  "Folks," Eric said again, "I just want to thank you all for coming to this party. As of noon today, I am officially cancer free!"

  A cheer went up, and glasses were raised, and I felt tears slipping down my cheeks.

  "It's been a long, hard road," he said, "and I wouldn't be here without all
of you. So this party is for you, all my friends and family who stood by me in this dark time. To life!"

  "To life!" we all chorused back.

  "L'chaim!" Aaron said. So Fiddler on the Roof! I loved that musical!

  "And if you'll indulge me here," Eric continued, "there are a few people I need to thank specially. My parents, of course, the best people in the whole world. I love you, Mom and Dad. More than I could ever say."

  Judy sobbed happily, and Aaron wiped his eyes. "Love you, too, son," he managed.

  "My awesome team at St. Luke's, Dr. Benson, Dr. Ramal, Dr. Williams, and all the incredible nurses and staff at the infusion center." A round of applause followed, though none of the team had been able to make the party.

  "My workmates, who were so great while I went through this ordeal."

  The Wall Streeters gave themselves a rowdy cheer, and Blake shouted, "I'd give my left nut to be half the man you are!"

  Eric pretended to smile; he hated that joke. He went on to thank his boss, his assistant, the receptionist.

  Come on, Eric. If he went through the entire list (as he seemed intent on doing), he'd be here all night. Alas, he loved to give speeches. Next thanked: his cousin, who'd flown up from Boca to visit--for nine days, and let me tell you, that wasn't exactly a favor. Eric's golf buddy--Kate's husband, Nathan--for keeping his spirits up, though to the best of my knowledge, they'd played golf only once.

  Next on the list: everyone who read and commented on The Cancer Chronicles. I sneaked a look at Jonathan, who remained stone-faced. Eric thanked Beth for her good cheer, the Hoffmans for plowing our driveway (once; I shoveled the other times). He thanked Ollie, "my little buddy when I was too weak to do anything other than nap."

  Come on, Eric.

  "And last on the list, but first in my heart, of course, is someone very special I need to thank."

  He looked at me, his dark eyes wet, and my irritation vanished. My heart stopped, then surged forward, hot and full of love.

  "Someone who stood by me every minute, who kept my spirits up when I stared down Death, when I was too weak to lift my head."

  Granted, there really hadn't been a moment when he was too weak to lift his head, but yeah. I'd been great. Judy's quiet sobs resumed, and she gave me a watery smile. Aaron squeezed my shoulders.

  "Babe, come over here," he said, and I went, my heart thudding, practically levitating from happiness and adrenaline. I was hyperaware of everything, like Peter Parker is in Spider-Man--the tag sticking up from Rachelle's neckline, the nice orange blossom smell of Beth's perfume, Ollie being fed an appetizer by Esther, Jonathan's constipated expression, my sister's sardonic smile.

  Eric touched his pocket, where the box-shaped lump sat so promisingly, and I smiled through my happy tears.

  It was about damn time.

  Chapter Three

  Kate

  I tried to remember a time when I loved parties. College, maybe?

  This kind of party was the worst. I didn't know many people aside from my family members, and I'd talked to Esther and Matthias as long as they tolerated me, then trailed them down to the basement cellar, where they booted up Mad Max: Fury Road. When guilt forced me upstairs, I saw Nathan getting a plate of food for my grandmother.

  An aching, lovely pressure squeezed my chest. He saw me looking and smiled.

  "Kate, your husband is so wonderful!" Gram-Gram chirped. "I didn't know what I wanted, so he got me some of everything!" She popped a mozzarella ball into her mouth and chewed. "Delicious!"

  "My pleasure, Lettie," Nathan said, sliding his arm around me. "Is it me, or does all the food here look like testicles?" he whispered.

  I choked on a laugh. Come to think of it, yes. Mozzarella balls, melon balls, grapes, cherry tomatoes, little round onion puffs, scallops...

  Gram-Gram patted my cheek. "It's so good to see you happy, dear," she said. "Nathan, thank you for marrying this girl! We thought she'd be an old maid forever."

  "Yes, thanks, Nathan," I said, nudging him with my elbow. "Community service and all that."

  "It beat picking up trash on the side of the highway." He kissed my temple and dropped his voice so Gram-Gram wouldn't hear. "And thank you for the great shag earlier."

  My cheeks warmed. "You're very welcome."

  My grandmother ate another round thing. "You're in love! Oh, Kate, we'd given up on you!"

  "That's enough, Gram-Gram." I smiled as I said it.

  Eric started clinking his glass. "And here we go," I murmured, finishing my wine. Considered taking a photo of Eric, then opted against it. Clearly, he had too many as it was.

  As he thanked the many people on his list, I felt myself getting drowsy. Nathan glanced at me and smiled. "No sleeping," he whispered. "If I can stay awake, so can you."

  I smothered another laugh.

  "...and my golf buddy, Nathan."

  Nathan raised his glass and smiled. "We played once," he whispered as Eric kept naming names.

  Uh-oh. I felt a case of the giggles coming on.

  Nathan squeezed me a little closer. "Is my wife's glass empty? Uh-oh. I better fix that."

  "Yes indeed," I said, handing him the glass. He went off to the back, where the makeshift bar was set up.

  Eric paused and looked meaningfully at my sister. "And last on the list, but first in my heart, of course, is someone very special I need to thank. Someone who stood by me every minute, who kept my spirits up when I stared down Death, when I was too weak to lift my head."

  Laying it on a little thick, Eric? I chastised myself for the unkind thought.

  He summoned Ainsley to his side.

  It was about damn time Eric proposed. I mean, clearly, this was the proposal, finally. The fact that it was taking place in front of a collage of himself and himself alone bothered me, but it wasn't surprising. Ainsley had always been something of a groupie where Eric was concerned.

  To each her own. Ainsley was glowing as she made her way to Eric, and that was what I should focus on. I adjusted my lens subtly, hoping to catch the moment.

  "Everyone, raise your glass to Ainsley," Eric said.

  Nathan was still waiting at the makeshift bar. He'd have to hurry so I could toast my sister. I'd sucked down that first glass fast to help me deal with that damn collage. There was a picture of his scrotum, pre-and post-op, with a little infomercial text underneath it. A quick wine buzz had been required. Even now, the scrotal sac photo seemed to beg me to look at it.

  Behind me, I heard my mother sigh. She had a very distinct sigh, years of practice. Dad wasn't here; he was calling a game somewhere out West. A shame. Ainsley, product of the wife he truly loved, was his favorite.

  Eric took my sister's hand. "Babe, I couldn't ask for a better woman in life. Ever since we met, I knew you were special, but my cancer journey has shown me that you're not just special...you're extraordinary."

  Did the word cancer have to be in every other sentence? Still, Ainsley's chest was hitching; I could imagine how hard it was for her not to cry; she could cry at Antiques Roadshow. She bit her lip and smiled, her mouth wobbling a little. Sweet kid. Well, she was thirty-two. Sometimes I forgot, since she seemed so...naive.

  Eric gazed out at the crowd. "Everyone, a toast to the woman who is not only kind and generous and strong and beautiful, but also..." He reached into his pocket, and I raised my camera. "But also the woman I want to spend the rest of--"

  There was a little cry of surprise from behind me, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement.

  Nathan.

  He tripped. That was embarrassing, right at the big moment.

  It was just a flash of a second. Wine sloshed over the rim of the glass Nathan was carrying. A woman jerked as it splashed on her back. Nathan stumbled, and someone stepped neatly out of his way, and he fell.

  There was a thunk, and I couldn't see my husband anymore.

  A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd. "Someone's cut off," a Wall Streeter said.

&nb
sp; "Shame to waste good wine."

  "Make sure he pays for that!"

  My camera was still pointed at Ainsley. I looked at her, and she wasn't smiling anymore.

  Her face was white.

  Her boss, Jonathan, knelt down where Nathan had fallen.

  I felt my heart roll. Get up, Nathan. Get up.

  "Call 911," Jonathan barked, and then my camera hit my side as it fell from my fingers, the strap yanking against my neck.

  Nathan was lying facedown.

  Wait.

  He'd only tripped. He wasn't a drama queen, not like Eric.

  But he was just lying there.

  A seizure?

  Ollie the dog barked.

  "Honey?" I said, but my voice was thin and weak. My wobbly legs carried me closer.

  Jonathan rolled Nathan over, pressed his fingers against his throat.

  Was he checking for a pulse? Why? Nathan just tripped, that was all. Big deal. Maybe his legs were a little weak because, yes, we'd done it against the wall not more than two hours ago, and it wasn't as easy as it looked on TV.

  Jonathan started CPR.

  Oh, Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, this couldn't be happening. This had to be a mistake. I'd never seen anyone do compressions before. It looked painful. Would Nathan's ribs be okay? Should Jonathan ease off a little? "Honey?" I said. I was on the floor all of a sudden, on my knees. Please. Please. Please.

  Nathan's eyes were only open a slit. "Nathan?" I whispered.

  "Help him," someone said. "Call 911." But that had already been said. 911 had already been called.

  I could smell chardonnay.

  "Help him!" my mother barked. "Somebody, breathe for him!" And somebody did, one of the frat brothers, the one who made the left nut joke.

  Someone was saying "Nathan? Nathan?" in a high, hysterical keen, and I was pretty sure it was me. The dog was still barking. Then my sister's arms were around my shoulders, and she was telling people to step back, make room, get a blanket.

  But a blanket wouldn't help him.

  Nathan was dead.

  Chapter Four

  Ainsley

  I'd never seen anyone die before. Cross that off my bucket list. Not that it was ever on it, God!