I smiled and playfully rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, doctor, I’m fine.’
‘Hey, don’t fault me for worrying about you. I happen to love you and all that jazz.’
He pulled me close and placed a kiss on my lips. As he pulled away I put a finger to the side of his mouth and wiped away the lipstick.
‘That colour looks good on you … ’
He laughed and put an arm around my shoulders. ‘You know, I was thinking … you and I, we could take a trip to the Mayo Clinic. And get another opinion on what we should do.’
I stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face him. ‘Sweetheart, we have already gotten three opinions, here in the city, by some of the top oncologists on the planet. I trust what they are telling me.’
‘I just don’t want to do anything too hasty, or flippant … ’
I shook my head. ‘I would do neither, with my life, yours or any other. I promise. But I think that right now we should be taking heed of what my doctors are saying. And if they think that chemo is the right course of action, then I will do that.’
‘But it’s making you so tired, and sick. I’ll never understand a form of medicine that doubles as poison. Future generations are sure to think we were insane.’
I shrugged, agreeing. After all, people of our age look back two hundred years and think that the idea of bloodletting is absolutely barbaric. ‘Well, with each generation comes new development, and we can only trust in what we have right now.’ I put a hand to his face. ‘I’m not so vain that I am worried about losing my hair, and I have faith in the idea that the doctors know what they are doing. So let’s just try to let this work, all right?’
We started walking again in silence, but his grip tightened, as if he was afraid that I might disappear in front of him.
I knew that all of this had been tough on him. It had been tough on both of us. After all, no one ever liked the idea of being faced with their own mortality. Each of us walk around with the understanding that we were not permanent fixtures on this earth, but at the same time, being stared in the face by possible doom isn’t an easy thing to handle.
However, I had to stay strong. It would do no good to anyone if I fell to pieces. Even in my most private moments, when I did have to admit that I was scared, frightened even, of the future, I tried to focus on the good as well. In many ways, we were so fortunate, more fortunate that many people who faced this. I had access to great doctors and some of the most skilled surgeons in all of New York. And we had the funds to pay for what was very expensive treatment. Many times, I thought that this disease was also a blessing, as it had opened my eyes and made me realise that my own experience could assist in increasing awareness about the condition and its challenges. I was happy to get involved in many different charities around the city, and taking part in these events allowed me to hear the stories of others – the success, sometimes the heartbreak. It helped me keep a healthy perspective that I was not, nor would I ever be, alone in my battle. I glanced down at my bracelet, and instinctively picked up the pink ribbon.
But for tonight at least, I wanted to put some of those things out of my mind, and enjoy my son’s success.
‘I think this is it.’ He stopped as he looked at the gallery’s address.
‘Fantastic.’
‘I wonder if they’re here yet?’
I sighed a little. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if it was just us tonight – just our family, I mean.’
He looked sideways at me. ‘Now, now, behave.’
‘Oh, you know me.’
He followed me inside. ‘Yes, I do. That’s what I’m worried about.’
Moments later, we entered the gallery. It was a beautiful space, all rich, dark wood and vivid red walls. The high ceilings exposed the original brick of the building and, even though there wasn’t an Italiancornoin sight, there was something about this place that sent me back almost forty years to a memory I had held fondly in my heart all throughout the course of my marriage.
‘Doesn’t this space remind you of that store in Florence where we got mycorno? What was that man’s name?’ I searched my memory banks looking for the answer, but Jeff spoke first.
‘Giovanni.’
‘And his little boy.’ I smiled, remembering the young child. ‘Wow, he must be in his forties now. At least.’
‘Probably closer to fifty actually.’ He put his hand around my waist and ushered me farther into the gallery. ‘Time flies.’
‘It sure does,’ I said wistfully.
Suddenly we spotted the rest of our party. ‘Look, there they are.’
Making our way through the considerable crowd that was forming in the gallery, I realised that my handsome son was camped out in front of the photograph that the gallery’s owner had bought from him. It was a beautiful shot of the Flatiron.
I greeted my son and pulled him close for a hug. ‘Hey darling. Congratulations, it looks amazing. All this is amazing! I am just so proud of you.’
