A Part Of Me: Page 7

  “Won’t you be exhausted tomorrow?” Thursdays were always long days at the office, everybody pointlessly trying to finish as many things as possible before the weekend.

  “Nonsense.”

  “I want to have another child,” I surprised him.

  “Me too, but not now. We said we’d wait longer this time, right?”

  “Obviously not now. But I don’t want to wait too long. We can’t tell when I’ll get sick.”

  “Can we wait another year?” Michael asked with a smile, but I could tell from his eyes he was scared. It was obvious that if I insisted, we’d get pregnant even sooner. He turned off the light and laid back in bed.

  “OK, we’ll talk about it again in a year.” I heard Michael sigh in relief.

  “I hate my office.” Sometimes I really couldn’t figure out how I ended up in that office. I just went from school, straight to my internship and then to the office. It was effortless; I didn’t have to think about it. I just went with it. But life had suddenly stopped, and I had to reconsider my life choices.

  “I know,” he shut his eyes.

  “If it weren’t for Sarah, I would have already left.”

  “I know.”

  “If life is too short then maybe I shouldn’t have to suffer. Maybe I should look for another place.”

  “OK, I’ll support any choice you make. You know that.”

  “Do you think I should also tell my dad about the test?” I waited for an answer but he didn’t reply. “Michael?” I turned to him and saw that he had already fallen asleep, even without taking his glasses off. I placed them on the window ledge above our bed.

  I envied him for being able to fall asleep so fast. I laid next to him and looked at him. When he slept, he looked like Adam. I pitied him because he married me and got screwed over. Well, we couldn’t have known what life would throw our way.

  I laid on my back and looked at the dark ceiling. I tried to make a list in my head of all the appointments I should make; breast surgeon, gynecologist, ultrasound, blood tests. Despair.

  I wanted to start as soon as possible. They keep saying that early detection saves lives. So please, I thought, I hope it saves mine too.

  I kept thinking that I couldn’t possibly be the only woman in this situation, I also felt that no one else could really understand what I was going through. I read somewhere that one in every forty Ashkenazi women are carriers, or something like that. So, there must be other women like me. There was that young woman who had an appointment with the geneticist’s right after mine. Perhaps she’s a carrier? There must be more carriers.

  That night I realized I should talk to another carrier. But a healthy carrier, not someone who’s already sick. It’s inappropriate whining to someone who had to actually face this disease. Besides, she wouldn’t understand what I was talking about because she would be going through something different. She would be actually fighting for her life; being a carrier would mean something else for her. I wanted to talk to someone who was considered healthy. Someone like me. But where will I find someone like that? It’s not something that you post on your Facebook feed or status; it isn’t something that you would talk about with a stranger. If I could, I would have written: “Wanted: a healthy carrier for conversation purposes.” But how can I post such a text if I don’t want people knowing I was a carrier too?

  I waited for sunrise, quietly got dressed and drove to the office for a day full of tasks that had very little to do with my being a lawyer.

  Chapter 17

  During the morning rush hour, I thought again about the woman whose appointment was after mine. I had to find someone who could answer all the questions running through my mind. When I got to the office, even before having my tea, I started researching on my computer. First, I searched for BRCA carriers. I was already familiar with most of the information that came up. The Israel Cancer Association posted information about carriers in their breast cancer tab. I decided to call them again. The last time I spoke to them, I asked for information about ovarian cancer, and tried figuring out what mom was entitled to as a cancer patient.

  I couldn’t believe that I was now calling for myself. After two minutes, a middle-aged woman answered the phone. “Good morning. This is Suzanne speaking, how can I help you?”

  “Good morning, Suzanne. I would like to ask about whether you offer assistance for BRCA carriers.”

  “What carriers?” I heard people coming into the office so I closed my door.

  “Carriers of the BRCA gene, causing breast and ovarian cancer. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Not really, but I’ll try asking someone. Hold please.”

  While I held the line, hearing the association’s jingle playing in the background, I went over my emails - one from Nathan sent at 2:30 A.M. Doesn’t that man ever sleep?

  “What cancer did you say that you had?” I heard Suzanne asking.

  “I don’t have it. I’m a carrier of the gene, but I don’t have it yet.”

  “Oh, we assist only cancer patients and their families.”

  “OK, but I’m at risk. I just want to get information about how not to get it.”

  “We don’t have such information. If you do get sick, we’re at your service,” she replied as if she were a customer service representative at a phone company, and I was asking about the dangers of radiation.

  “Thank you, but I don’t want to get sick. I want you to help me not to get sick.”

  “I can’t help you with that.”

  “Who can help me with that?” I tried staying calm but started losing my patience.

  “I can give you our social worker’s number. Maybe she can refer you to someone else.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  I wrote the number down and immediately called Lily, the social worker. She didn’t answer, so I left a voice message and asked that she call me back as soon as possible.

  It didn’t make sense to me that no one was helping carriers. I felt like a drowning woman trying to clutch at straws.

  It was a good time to have some tea, especially since my other option was to start working on an injunction letter for Samuel. In the kitchen, the interns were making coffee while talking about their tedious bar exam course. I would switch places with them in a heartbeat, and retake all these absurd bar exams if it meant getting rid of this gene. I didn’t even try joining their conversation and when the water boiled, I took the mug in one hand and a teabag in the other, and went to hide in my small office.

  I sat in my chair and stared at the screen. I could hear Sarah’s stilettos annoyingly tapping from the end of the hallway, getting closer and closer. She opened the door and peeked in. Her curls were pulled into a ballet bun, meaning she had a court hearing today. It made her look very serious.

  “Hey, would Michael give you a pass for a short weekend abroad?” Sarah probably didn’t remember I had my meeting yesterday, which bode well for me since I didn’t want to talk about it at work.

  “Are you crazy? How can I leave him with two little kids? I won’t have a house to come back to.”

  “No biggie. There’s a cool Sting concert in Prague and I was thinking of going. I can still fly for free with El Al. Come on, don’t be heavy. We’ll celebrate your birthday in Prague.” You could count on Sarah to take full advantage of her time as a stewardess.

  I sighed loudly and tried explaining again, “It’s not going to happen, Sarah. He won’t agree.”

  “He will if you just stop being so miserable all the time. Come on, you’ve been cooped up in here for two weeks. Live a little, have fun.” Sarah started dancing as if she were in some club waiting for me to jump in.

  “I’m too tired. Forget it.” I moved my mouse and the computer lit up.

  “OK, we’ll talk about it later,” she said and lightly danced out of the room and into the kitchen.
Seeing her skipping with those heels has always impressed me.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Michael won’t agree!” I yelled after her, but knew it was no use.

  That truth was that Michael would have definitely agreed, but I wasn’t in the mood for celebrating. Perhaps if things were different and normal, I would have jumped at the opportunity.

  I shut the door again and started working on the injunction, hoping that Samuel’s nonsense would distract me. Other people’s troubles can be a good thing sometimes. Even if Samuel’s troubles concerned things other people could only dream of.

  Chapter 18

  “Can I come over tonight?” Tommy sent me a surprising text in the middle of the day.

  “Sure, when?” I replied and hoped that he might also help me around a bit.

  “When Michael’s home, so we can talk.” What a shame, I thought.

  “OK, come after 9.” That’s usually when I got to bed, but I didn’t have any other option. Although I was constantly tired, I struggled falling asleep at night.

  When Tommy came over, Michael and I waited for the kids to fall asleep. Adam and Ariel were in their beds and we stood outside their room.

  “Call dad,” Adam whispered to Ariel, who obviously wasn’t old enough to call us, let alone say ‘dad.’ She could cry the most. “Call dad,” Adam asked again. Michael and I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “See, you can’t talk!” Adam said angrily and was probably very disappointed. Ariel just giggled and enjoyed his attention.

  “Let’s go outside,” Tommy whispered to me, “so we can talk quietly.”

  We went downstairs and sat on the building’s front stairs. The air was cool and pleasant. The street was usually silent in the evenings.

  “I wanted to tell you something. I haven’t spoken to mom and dad yet.” Tommy played with a leaf that crumbled between his fingers.

  “What?” I asked calmly, even though I suspected what this was about. Mom told me he came back home reeking of cigarettes, so I tried paying more attention. Jonathan started smoking at this age too, even though I asked him to quit. I grew up with Gabi’s smoking and it was horrible. It took him years to quit and it really annoyed me that someone else would also take his chances with lung cancer. I was hoping that Tommy wouldn’t take that road. It seems I was wrong.

  “It’s something that I’ve known for years, but now, I feel that I can tell you.” He fell silent and I waited patiently, even though I really wanted to sleep. “I’m attracted to boys, I’m gay.”

  “OK,” I stared at him for a few seconds. I was surprised and didn’t know what else I was expected to say.

  “I’ve already spoken to Jonathan a few days ago.”

  “Good,” that wasn’t as surprising. “Are you sure? Because you’re still very young.” I hugged him and he placed his head on my shoulder.

  “Yes, Shirley, I’m sure.” He suddenly seemed so mature.

  “How did Jonathan respond?” He had that talent for being able to laugh even at serious issues.

  “When I told him I wanted to talk to him he said ‘as long as you’re not going to tell me you’re gay, no problem.’ So, I said, ‘I’m gay.’” We both laughed and I caressed his head, like mom used to do when Tommy was younger.

  “It’s very like Jonathan to react like that.” I waited for a second and then turned to him. “So, what was going on with that girl you were dating?”

  “I really liked her, but it didn’t work out.” Tommy found another leaf and crumbled it on the pavement. One of the neighbors walked in with some groceries and we moved aside.

  “OK. So, are you sure?” Tommy sat down while I still stood in front of him. It was starting to get cold.

  “Yes,” he said and looked up at me for the first time that evening.

  “OK. As long as you’re happy.”

  “And I wanted to tell you another thing.” I have to admit, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly beat him coming out to me. “Do you remember when I lived at your place, how I would tell you that I’m attending scouts’ meetings?”

  “Yes…” I said slowly.

  “I didn’t really go there. I went to IGY, the Israeli Gay Youth Association.”

  “So, those were your friends at the time?”

  “Yes. One of them was from school, but because he knew I was in the closet, he wasn’t allowed to speak to me outside of IGY.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I said after a few moments of embarrassing silence. “That’s why you never brought friends over during that year?” I always thought it was because he didn’t want people seeing our apartment. It was furnished horribly, with second-hand furniture that we gathered at the last moment since all of our belongings were in Australia.

  “Actually no. I didn’t want them to know about mom, and I also didn’t want them to see her like that.”

  “But why? There’s nothing shameful about mom having cancer.” His answer surprised me and frankly, I was a bit offended for mom.

  “Because I didn’t want people to pity me. I was already the new kid who came in the middle of the school year from Australia. I didn’t need more attention.”

  “So, you’re telling me that no one at school knew she was sick?” My upstairs neighbor passed through and Tommy held the door for her so she could walk in with her bags.

  “I only told one friend. But later I found out that one of the teachers told all the students before I even started going there. I didn’t know it back then.”

  “OK, look, I have to go upstairs, I’m exhausted. Thank you for telling me.” I hugged him and he hugged me back, “in the meantime don’t say anything to mom and dad. I’ll talk to Jonathan and we’ll figure out when it’s best to tell them. Maybe after mom’s checkup. When we know she’s fine.”

  “OK, Shirley,” Tommy hugged me again and said, “good night.”

  “Good night, Tommy.”

  I went upstairs and found Michael sleeping in front of the TV, while the papers he was probably planning to read were scattered around him. I decided to let him sleep and tried to sleep without him snoring disturbing me. However, despite the silence, I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how we completely misread Tommy.

  He had this whole other world that not only we weren’t a part of, but we didn’t even know it existed. If he’s known this long, it means he’s been keeping this a secret for years. I didn’t know if I was more hurt because he kept it from me and felt uncomfortable telling me, or ashamed and angry at myself for not noticing. On the other hand, I felt I had so many things on my mind that I barely noticed other people. I texted Jonathan and we discussed when it would be the right time to break the news to our parents. All that had happened made me realize that I needed to stop being so self-involved. I seemed to have forgotten that other people have troubles of their own. I was too preoccupied with my own issues. It was very unlike me. I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.

  Chapter 19

  Lily, the social worker, called me back a few days later, exactly at dinner time. I was in the middle of cooking the house specialty: omelettes with cheddar cheese.

  “How can I help you?”

  I told her about mom and the gene mutation we both have.

  “I wanted to know if you offer carriers some form of assistance? Somewhere I could get information and talk to other carriers?” I asked while beating the eggs, trying not to spill them on the counter. Ariel was impatient and banged her plate on her high chair.

  “I can hear that you’re busy, so let’s keep it short. We take care, for instance, of women who have breast cancer. We don’t offer services for carriers. I can invite you to one of our seminars for women at high risk of getting breast cancer.”

  “And what if I organized a group for carriers? Would you be able to facilitate such a support group?” That’s one of the idea
s I had these last few nights and I was hoping the Association would cooperate.

  “You know what? If you organize such a group, I’ll assign one of our instructors and you could meet at our place. How does that sound?” Ariel’s screaming grew louder and I could barely hear Lily.

  “Sounds great. I’ll keep in touch.”

  The rest of the evening was terrible. Adam and Ariel kept yelling, throwing food at each other and losing their minds. I was falling apart and asked Michael to come home immediately. I just wanted him to come and rescue me.

  The moment he walked in, I got up, and without speaking a word, went into the bedroom. I closed the door behind me and lay in the dark. I heard Michael struggling in the bathroom with Ariel who refused to get into the shower and with Adam who refused to get out. After about an hour the house fell silent and Michael went into the room quietly.

  “How are you?” he sat down and gently caressed me.

  “You know how I am. I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. Just carry on like usual and have regular checkups. That’s what we agreed, right?”

  “Yes, but I can’t just carry on like usual. I hate the office. I hate working there. If it weren’t for Sarah, I would have lost my mind a long time ago. And I can’t stand the kids. They keep shouting, crying and fighting. Ariel won’t stay put for a second, Adam shouts and cries all the time.” I moved his hand away and stood up angrily.

  “He’s getting used to having a little sister. It takes time.” Michael followed me to the shower but kept a safe distance.

  “How long?! It’s not getting any better, just worse. His daycare teacher also said he’s very sensitive and keeps crying all the time.” I tried whispering so Adam didn’t accidentally hear me.

  “He’s always been sensitive. He’ll grow up and it’ll get better.”

  “And what about work? I can’t be there anymore.” I wore my pajamas and pulled my hair back. A tired face looked back at me from the mirror. My eyes were puffy and I looked terrible.