missed her last week, but this week, well, that was a different story.
Four
Cat rushed into her bedroom, pulled her blouse over her head, and tossed it on the bed. Another outfit rejected. She didn’t imagine Ty would dress up for dinner, so the blouse and slacks were too much.Hands on her hips, she surveyed her closet. White capris and a pink, fitted T-shirt should work. She put them on, then slid her painted toenails through the straps of her sandals and left her room.
This is it,
she vowed.
No more wardrobe changes.
Stepping into the bathroom, she said, “Danny, it’s almost seven. Time to get out of the tub.” He climbed out, and she pulled a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Is Ty coming now?” her son asked.
“I think so.” Cat rubbed the towel across his head. “Go get dressed while I check on Grandma.” She smiled as Danny darted into his room, his towel fluttering behind him like Superman’s cape.
The round of chemo this week had been particularly rough, and her mother felt ill all day. The biopsy had revealed a malignant tumor in her liver. Despite the doctors’ best efforts, the cancer had spread. Cat felt sick herself just thinking about it. She stepped into her mother’s dim room. The blinds were closed against the taunting of cheerful sunshine. Cat heard her mother straining to throw up and raced to her bedside. “Mom, are you okay?”
Unable to answer, her mother bent over the plastic bowl, clutching it with trembling hands. Cat wrapped her arm around her shoulders and steadied the bowl. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she said, struggling to hold her tears at bay. The care with which she’d applied her eye makeup would be for nothing if she failed. And crying wouldn’t help her mother anyway.
The doorbell rang and Danny’s feet thumped across the floor as he raced toward the door. Cat looked at the clock: 6:50 pm. “He’s early,” she muttered. “I don’t think I can leave you like this.”
Her mother straightened up and tried to take back the bowl. “Nonsense. You haven’t done anything for yourself in weeks. You’re going, and that’s final. I’ll call Judy if I need help.”
Cat kept the bowl and stood. “I’ll clean this out for you before I go.” She returned to her mother’s bedside a moment later and surveyed the nightstand. “The phone’s here, the ward directory, your water, some saltines, and the TV remote. Is there anything else I can get you?”
Her mother waved her away. “No, now go. Don’t keep him waiting. Promise me you’ll have a good time. All you’ve done is work. You deserve to have a little fun. And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Her mother’s voice sounded stronger than Cat had heard all day. There was no arguing with Sally Benson once she made up her mind.
“But if you need me, Mom, call. I’ll have my cell phone.”
Her mother shooed her toward the door. “Cat, go! I’m fine.”
She turned back at the doorway. “I love you, Mom.”
Her mother eased herself onto her side, drawing her knees toward her stomach. “I love you too, honey.”
Cat left her mother’s room, hoping Danny was ready and wondering what she was doing anyway, going out with a guy who wasn’t a member of the LDS Church. Hopefully he hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t smoke. Doubts swirled through her mind. Her mother seemed more excited about the date than Cat was, though her mother hadn’t spoken to him and had only watched from the window the day he helped with the hay. Cat was surprised, because in high school her mother had strongly encouraged her to only date boys that shared their faith. “You marry whom you date,” she would always say.
The chemo must be going to her brain,
Cat thought sadly.
She’s practically pushing me out the door with a guy we barely know anything about.
Cat darted toward her bathroom, intent on a peek in the mirror before going downstairs. Turning the corner, she nearly barreled into