She sat down on the molded plastic chair by the bed. Now she had a genuine question for her mother, and she intended to get an answer.
Sometime around four oclock, she slumped in her chair and fell asleep.
The trilling of her cell phone wakened her. She unfolded slowly, painfully, rubbing the crick in her neck. It took her a moment to realize where she was.
The hospital.
Harborview.
She stood up. Her mothers bed was empty. She wrenched open the closet doors.
Empty. The bag was crumpled into a ball and left behind.
"Shit. "
Her cell phone rang again. She glanced at the incoming number. "Hey, Edna," she said, sinking back into the chair.
"You sound awful. "
"Bad night. " She wished shed touched the necklace now; already it was taking on the blurry edges of a dream. "What time is it?"
"Six, your time. Are you sitting down?"
"Coincidentally, I am. "
"Do you still take off part of November and all of December?"
"So that my crew can enjoy the holidays with their families?" she said bitterly. "I do. "
"I know youre usually busy with that friend of yours—"
"Not this year. "
"Good. Then maybe youd like to come to the Antarctic with me. Im doing a documentary on global warming. I think its an important story, Tully. Someone of your stature would get it watched. "
The offer was a Godsend. A moment before shed been wanting to get away from her own life. You couldnt get much farther than Antarctica. "How long will we be gone?"
"Six weeks; seven at the most. You could fly back and forth, but its a hell of a trip. "
"Sounds perfect. I need to get away. How soon can we leave?"
Naked, Kate stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, studying her body. All her life shed been engaged in a guerrilla-type war with her reflection. Her thighs had always been too fleshy, no matter how much weight she lost, and her tummy pooched out after three kids. She did sit-ups at the gym, but still her middle sagged. Shed stopped wearing sleeveless shirts about three years ago—arm jiggle. And her breasts . . . Since the boys births, shed started wearing heavier-molded, less sexy bras, that was for sure, and she tightened the straps to pull her boobs into place.
Now, though, when she looked at herself, she saw how little all of that mattered, what a waste of time it had been.
She stepped closer, practicing the words shed chosen, rehearsing. If ever there was a moment in her life that required strength, this was it.
She reached for the pile of clothes on the counter and began dressing. Shed chosen a pretty pink cashmere V-neck sweater—a Christmas present from the kids last year—and a worn, soft-as-lambskin pair of Levis. Then she brushed her hair, pulled it away from her face and made a ponytail. She even put on some makeup. It was important that she look healthy for what was to come. When there was nothing else she could do, she left the bathroom and went into her bedroom.
Johnny, whod been seated on the end of the bed, stood quickly and turned to her. She could see how hard he was trying to be strong. Already his eyes were bright.
It should have made her cry, too, that shiny evidence of his love and fear, but somehow it made her stronger. "I have cancer," she said.
He already knew it, of course. The past few days, spent waiting for the test results, had been agonizing. Last night theyd finally gotten the doctors call. Theyd held hands while she gave them the information, assuring each other before she spoke that it would be fine. But it hadnt been fine; not even close to fine.
Im sorry, Kate . . . stage four . . . inflammatory breast cancer . . . aggressive . . . already spread . . .
At first Kate had been furious—shed always done everything right, looked for lumps, gotten her mammograms—and then the fear set in.