Sunday, May 2, 2010

D Day Minus 229 (July 22, 2009) (Part 2)

You and I almost collided on the first landing of the stairs  – me to get the news and you to give the news about the final Wegmans interview.  I knew even before you said a word.  Your little smile betrayed your attempt at a poker face.  

“I got it.” You said. “They still want me.”

“Did you tell them everything?” I asked.

“Mom, I’m not an idiot.”  You rolled your eyes. 
“I didn’t say you were an idiot.” I said. “I’m just playing Mom.” 

“I know. I know.” You said as we walked down to the kitchen.  “I told them the cancer was back and that I would need to go for treatment in Houston for a week at a time.” You paused and opened the pantry door. “I can work on the off weeks. Besides, the store doesn’t open for a few months so I’ll be in training.” You shook an almost empty bag of Chex Mix to see how much was left and moved on to some different prey.  “It’s all good.”  You said as you pulled out a plain Thompson Bagel. 

My stomach knotted as I hoisted myself up on to the tall kitchen stools that left my legs dangling.  We still didn’t have the details nailed down.  It wasn’t because I didn’t worry enough or nag you enough.  To top it off, you and Dad had gone a few rounds last night about whether or not surgery and the TIL trial was on the table.  You were both right.  I only had to ask each of you.  And I was stuck in the middle.  I frowned a little and gave myself a half hug.

“It’s all right, I think we’re going to make.” You did your best rendition of Christopher Cross as you were getting your bagel ready to toast.  I laughed and bobbed my head to the beat out of habit. 

“Remember Hawaii.” You said. 

 “Of course.” I said.  “We sang that song every time we got in situations when we were nervous like turbulence on the flight, the late night pick-up by the shark hunter guy that looked like he had a bounty, getting lost on the way to the hotel.”   

“Good times." You said as you bobbed your head up and down like you did whenever you said it. I nodded, while you put the bagel in the toaster. 

“Mom, you’d really like the Bakery Manager. Her name is Julie. She listens to Gangsta Rap and plays it really loud before the store opens in the morning.” You stood by the toaster. “We have the same sense of humor.” You smiled and  tried not to burn your fingers retrieving the bagel from the toaster.  “She’s awesome.”

“Are the songs cleaned up?” I asked.

You laughed and said, “No.” 

"You're right." I said. "I would."

"So what's for dinner?" You asked as you took your first bite of bagel. 

I smiled and snapped a mental picture.

1 comment:

  1. i remember talking all about these events when they were happening. because i am snoopy! thanks again