When Blood Collides : Before the Celebration by Spitfire Book of the Month contest entry |
Previously: When Bobby tells me his mom is flying down to say goodbye, I order a cake for a belated birthday party. All these years, I had saved her favorite doll and now wrap it up as a present. Since she had lost her stuffed panda in a movie theater, I buy her two white and black bears. To complete the party I bring balloons, noisemakers and silly hats including a paper crown with "Queen" spelled out in silver sparkles on the feathery pink band. Chapter 69 ends: Pleased with my purchases, we piled everything into the car. Two days later we picked up the cake and headed to Tampa. It never occurred to me that my sister might not have much appetite or be able to taste anything. Regal and elegant are two words I would use to describe Barbara. Her golden brown soft curls, aristocratic nose, luminous green eyes and commanding presence earned admiration. In her teens, she would walk around the house balancing books perched on her head. I caught her practicing smiles in front of the mirror. She squeezed to death any pimples or blackheads that dared to mar her peaches and cream complexion. One would have thought she wanted to be a model or actress, but no, she just wanted to be perfect. My sister looked good at Thanksgiving three months ago, except I thought she was too thin. I marveled she had the stamina to make this trip. Expecting to see her frail and bent over, I was shocked when I walked through Bobby’s screen door. Barbara still had perfect posture and looked like a model ready for the runway. Her silver hair, cut pixie style, had its usual sheen. Her make-up had the natural look she worked hard to cultivate. A silk turquoise blouse and tailored black slacks completed the impression of a confident and beautiful woman. "Hi, Barb," I greeted her as if it were an ordinary visit. "Hi, Bobby." I turned to her son. "Wait until you both taste the cake I ordered." Frank said his hellos while I set the unopened dessert box on the dining table. Hubby set the bag full of presents and party trimmings on the floor. Typical male maneuver. "Oh." I backed off too. Confusion or hurt must have shown in my face. "No, no," she hurried to say. "I didn’t mean I don’t want a hug, but be tender. She moved toward me, placed her thin hands on my shoulders and leaned in for a cheek kiss. "Bobby told me you planned a birthday party," she said as we separated. "Yes, and you’re queen for the day." I brought out the paper crown. After putting the end tabs together, I placed it on her head. "I love it," she gasped after moving to a mirror to investigate the results. "That suits you," her son said. I gave hubby an "I told you so" look. "You look like a queen," I went on. "But then you always did." Barbara preened. "It seems as if this diagnosis came out of the blue," I said after sitting down. "I mean you spoke about falling on your way to work one day. That worried me. Then the weight loss you mentioned in your Christmas card." "I didn’t even think about that, especially after the doctor said it was a serious procedure, risky sometimes, but more often successful than not.That's when I called Bobby and told him not to worry." Barb's face remained stoic and her voice matter-of-fact as she related the details. "I went into the hospital. The anesthesiologist set an IV. I don't know how much time went by, but when I opened my eyes, I took one look at the doctor's face and asked, 'You didn’t do the surgery, did you?' He shook his head and swallowed hard. Seeing a tear on his cheek, I said, 'I’m going to die, aren’t I.' " "Twelve years!" I gasped. "And no early warnings?" "It was an option, but at stage four, success would be doubtful. Anyway, I didn't want to lose my hair. My co-workers call me 'the silver fox', you know." She giggled. "It fits." I grinned. I thought it good that she kept her ego right now. "So what is the long-range prognosis?" I leaned toward her. "Two good months, two not-so -good, and then I can either go into Hospice or stay at home for palliative care which is what I plan to do. My goal is to see the two doctoral students I’ve been mentoring the last two years graduate in May." "And you will," I reassured her. "Mom once told me you were so smart, you could succeed at anything you tried." "Really?" Barb sat up straighter and brightened. "Our mother said that about me?" Her reaction surprised me. How could she doubt that Mom would not be proud of her? To be continued.
|
©
Copyright 2024.
Spitfire
All rights reserved. Spitfire has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
© 2000-2024.
FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement
|