Chapter 7

Loren stepped into the bedroom. Abrielle was lying on her belly on the bed. He sat near her. "Dinner is ready," he said. "Are you coming down?"

"I don't know." He began caressing her shoulders. "That feels nice."

"Did you nap?"

"How could I? This is torture, Loren. Absolute torture. God -- the thoughts that keep washing through my mind." He continued stroking her back above the band of her bikini top. "Can you love me if I'm disfigured? Bald from chemo?"

"I love you unconditionally," he replied. "I think you're putting yourself into this state. You don't know if this is serious or not. Sometimes if you expect the worst it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"What do you suggest I do?" she asked.

"Pull yourself together and come down for dinner. You need to eat. Try to put it out of your mind until you can see your doctor tomorrow."

"I'll try."

"I made the ravioli -- both meat and cheese ... and I steamed some broccoli."

She sat up, straightened her hair and stood. Together they headed to the kitchen. "Dinner, Nicole," she called to her daughter who was looking at a book in her bedroom.

Abrielle stepped into the bedroom in her robe. She slipped it off. Underneath she had on a light blue cotton sleep tee that fell halfway to her knees. Loren regarded her. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"I've had this a long time. It's what I always wore to bed ... before we started sleeping together." Loren turned down the covers and slipped into bed. "Are you going to close the windows?" she asked.

"No, I'm not."

"It's raining."

"I know it's raining. I like hearing the rain and the cool air feels good after that hot spell."

"It's just going to make it damp in here. Won't it rain in?"

"Not unless the wind comes up."

"What are you going to do if the wind comes up?"

"Then, I'll get up and close the windows. Are you coming to bed?"

She lifted the covers and lay beside him. He switched off the light.

"Loren ... I've been a bundle of nerves all day. I'm sorry if I was short with you."

"I don't mind it if you take it out on me," he replied. "I can be a lightning rod. Nicole is another matter. She's an innocent bystander. You should try not to take it out on her."

"Yes ... you're right." He lay staring at the ceiling in the dim light. "I still cannot believe you didn't tell me last night ... that you waited 'til morning."

"Like I said -- what could we do about it then? Take you to the Emergency Room? Abrielle -- you weren't bleeding. You weren't having a stroke, a heart attack or an aneurysm. You weren't unconscious nor did you have a broken limb. If we took you to the E. R. all they would say would be, call your doctor in the morning. That'll be three hundred dollars, please. You got the same advice this morning for free."

"You're trying to trivialize it."

"I'm not. I didn't think you needed to be upset by it for any longer than necessary, and I think today's events have born out that decision. Maybe I should've waited 'til tomorrow morning ... or, not have told you at all and let you find it yourself."

"Do you really think so little of my well-being?"

"Of course not. This thing didn't form overnight, Abrielle. Another twenty-four or forty-eight hours wouldn't make a bit of difference. I determined to tell you in the morning and that is what I did."

"I think the real reason was you didn't want to be interrupted while makin' whoopee."

"Yes, I think it would've disrupted a tender moment," he replied.

"You found it and then you continued as if nothing was wrong!" She began wiping tears from her eyes. "I feel absolutely ... used ... violated, Loren. I never expected to feel that from you!" She threw off the covers, picked up her pillow and a knitted afghan from the bed and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To sleep on the sofa."

Loren sighed. He closed his eyes. The sound of Abrielle crying reached his ears.

He slipped into his robe and headed downstairs. She was kneeling on the sofa, her arms draped across the back. Loren sat beside her. She sniffled and then grasped the ring on her left hand. "Do you want this back?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied and began stroking her back. "Abrielle, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you. I do care about your well-being. If I handled this poorly, I apologize."

"Oh, Loren, I know. I'm sorry, too. I am over-reacting, I know."

"When I found it last night I knew we were heading down a stretch of rough road. I can't imagine you'll be in the mood for lovemaking until this is resolved ... fully, completely behind us."

"You're probably right about that."

"Last night might be it for intimacy for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, Loren. I'm sorry I can't deal with this better. You can't know how terrifying just the thought of this is to me."

"Not being a woman, I can't know exactly how you feel. I do have some experience with this, though. My grandmother on my mother's side succumbed to breast cancer when I was still a boy. Ever since then my mom has been terrified that she'll be next. She doesn't show it but I know it's always there, under the surface."

"I had no idea."

"I know you're scared, Abrielle. I'm scared, too."

"I appreciate hearing all this, Loren."

"Do you have a history of it in your family?"

"I don't know. Maman and I never discussed it."

"Maybe you should call her and ask. I'm sure it's something your doctor will want to know."

"That's a good suggestion. Thanks."

"Feeling better?"

"A little."

"Kiss and make up?" He caressed her cheek and then kissed her lips. "Coming upstairs?"

"Do you want me after this?"

"Of course I do," he replied. "Under one condition."

"What's that?"

"Lose that nightshirt."

"You really want my diseased flesh against yours?"

"Yes, I want your skin against mine."

He held her hand and they climbed the stairs. Abrielle lifted the hem of her sleepshirt and slipped it over her head. She slid between the covers and cuddled against him.

"You know," she said, "the sound of the rain is comforting."

"I've always liked it." He stroked her arm. "You know -- you're a large person, Abrielle."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I think sometimes big folks are expected somehow to be stronger ... tougher ... more stoic -- emotionally as well as physically. I think the feelings you have are perfectly understandable; and they would be no matter how petite or plus-sized you happened to be. I'll admit I fell into that same thought pattern -- that somehow you should just tough it out. I'm sorry for that. I'll try to be more sensitive."

"Oh, Loren..."

"I want you to know ... No matter how this is resolved, no matter what we need to go through -- I'll be here for you. You're not going through this alone."

"It means a lot to hear that, Loren."

"Try to get some sleep."

"I'll try." He held her against him and stroked her back. "That feels nice. Maybe that and the rain will put me to sleep."

Loren continued holding her and stroking her back. He felt her body begin to relax and he began to drift toward sleep.

"MAMAN!" Nicole hollered.

Abrielle groaned. "She must be having a leg-ache."

"I'll take care of it." Loren swung his legs from under the covers, pulled on his robe and grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. "I'm coming, Nicole," he called. "Where does it hurt this time?"

Loren locked his computer. "Mail call," he heard Erin say as she pushed her shopping cart toward him. "Hey Loren -- Todd told me that Abby's wearing a diamond."

"That's right."

"When did that happen?"

"A couple weeks ago. We'll make an announcement when we set a date."

"Congratulations, Loren. I think the world of Abby after she helped us with our problem. I'm sure you'll be happy together. Did you get your swing set up?"

"Yes we did," he replied.

"How does Nicole like it?"

"She loves it. She'd be on it all day if she could."

"Did the rain ruin your weekend?"

"No, it was already ruined."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed. "Saturday night ... we discovered a lump in Abrielle's breast."

"Oh, my God, no! Oh, Loren. Poor Abby. How's she taking it?"

"About how you'd expect."

"I'm so sorry to hear it. Has she talked to her doctor?"

"She was going to call this morning for an appointment. I was just going down to meet her for lunch and see what she knows."

"Tell her I'll keep her in my prayers, Loren. Good luck to both of you."

"Thanks, Erin."

Loren rode the elevator to the lobby. He saw Abrielle standing near the cafeteria. He approached her and took her hand. Together they pushed trays through the line and then picked a table in the corner.

He reached across the table and they held hands. "How's your morning?" he asked.

"Not so good. Yours?"

"I've been distracted -- worrying about you. Did you talk to your doctor?"

"I spoke with one of the nurses. She asked me a bunch of questions."

"Did you get an appointment?"

"Yes," she replied. "Thursday at two."

"Thursday?"

"That's right. I'm going to be a nervous wreck by the time Thursday rolls around."

"They didn't have anything sooner?"

She shook her head. "No they didn't. And, I need to see Doctor Mabuse. I'd rather see my regular gyno. At least it's not Newley. I really don't like him."

"Did you call your mom?"

"Yes. This is not something that runs in our family. At least, not to her knowledge."

"That's good," he replied. "It puts you into a lower risk population."

"What does it matter which risk population if I've already got it?" she asked.

"It might have a bearing on treatment options."

"I suppose. I also spoke with Veronica."

"Who's she?"

"She's one of the other assistants. She had a lump removed about five years ago and then had radiation. She's been clean since."

"Five years remission?" Loren remarked. "That's what passes as a cure in the oncology world. Did she give you any advice?"

"Yes -- she said not to worry until I had a diagnosis worth worrying about."

"Didn't I give you similar advice last night?"

"I suppose you did. I'm going to try, Loren. I'm going to try to put it out of my mind 'til Thursday."

He nodded. "Good."

She unwrapped her sandwich. "Loren?"

"What?"

"Will you come with me on Thursday? I'll need some moral support."

"Of course. Of course I will."

Loren sat holding Abrielle's hand in the waiting room. She fidgeted, drew in a breath and sighed. "What time is it?" she asked.

He consulted his cell. "A few after two-thirty. Do they usually run late?"

"The nurse said he'd have to work me in. God -- it's the waiting that's the worst. My heart is pounding, I have a knot in my stomach and I'm sure my blood pressure is through the roof."

"Try to relax." He patted the back of her hand.

One of the nurses stepped into the waiting room. "Abby?"

She squeezed Loren's hand and stood. After flashing him an anguished glance she followed the nurse through a door to the examination rooms.

Loren picked up an out-of-date copy of Newsweek and began flipping through it. He checked his cell for the time. Every time the door to the inner offices opened he looked up.

He stood and paced and then looked out of the window to the parking lot, five stories below. Returning to his seat he consulted his phone. She had been in there half an hour ... forty five minutes.

The door opened. Abrielle strolled out, accompanied by the nurse. They were chatting and laughing. She approached the main desk and consulted with the receptionist who handed her a card. Loren stood and approached her. She took his hand and they headed toward the elevator. "Well?" he asked.

"I have an appointment for a mammogram next week," she replied, "mostly for peace of mind."

"And the lump?"

"It's gone."

"Gone? Where did it go?"

"It turned out that it wasn't a tumor. It was a cyst."

"A cyst..."

"The doctor put a needle in it and drained it. He couldn't have done that with a tumor."

The elevator reached the ground floor and they walked to the parking lot. Loren sat behind the wheel. "He drained it?"

"Yes. It was totally benign -- just some fluid accumulation. He's sending the fluid to a cytopathologist as a precaution but he's sure it was nothing."

Loren broke into a smile. "What a relief! You must be relieved."

"It hasn't quite sunk in yet," she replied. Abrielle began brushing tears from her face. "But it's starting to."

"I won't ask you if you think all the angst was worth it."

"You know -- in a backhanded way I think you just did. This was a lesson for me, Loren. I'll heed Veronica's advice -- and yours. Next time something like this surfaces, I'll save the panic attack for after the diagnosis." She drew in a deep breath and released it. "God," she said placing her hand on her chest, "my heart rate hasn't been under ninety since Sunday morning. All the worry must've taken months, if not years off my life."