D Day Minus 236 (July 15, 2009)

“Wegman’s called asking for another interview.” A little smile betrayed your charade of nonchalance. I planted my book bag and fanned my shirt to catch a bead of sweat as you re-shut the front door that never shut right the first time

“You really think you are going to get an offer?” You had waited two or three months for Wegman’s to start hiring for the new store in Leesburg. You pursued other options, but said you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it. You gave up and shut people off the first time around – during your Interferon treatment nearly a year and half before. I pictured you, resume in hand, wearing your one and only suit that you barely filled out to let the store manager at Wegman’s know you serious. And had a lot to offer. You said the book I cajoled you into reading –Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich— was your inspiration. I guess it was, you were the persistent little girl from the book who told her mama’s boss that “my momma says send fifty cents” until she got it.

“Yes,” you said, “but should I call them and tell what is going on?” You fidgeted with your water bottle on the counter.

“Wait until you know for sure.” I said. “They stood by you before. And you know that cancer does not happen to you – it affects everyone that is part of your world. So wait until you know for sure.”

“So.” You trailed as you opened the lid to your water bottle. "Wait."

I nodded then looked up as the epiphany took over. “You aren’t meeting on Friday. Are you?” I bit my lip. “That would suck. You can’t eat before your scan and you get so grumpy when they cut into your feeding time. You eating machine.”

“Next week sometime.” You said. “I need to check my email.” You opened the pantry door on cue like Pavlov’s dog.