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The surgeon who performed Mom’s laparoscopic hysterectomy found me eyeing the clock in the waiting room. I set down my glossy gossip magazine with its detailed pros and cons of various celebrities butts and listened to her update, praying everything had gone well.
My mom’s surgery was more complicated than expected. They found a suspicious tumor that needed to be tested for cancer. Mom would have to stay overnight, possibly two nights, before she was ready for discharge.
I speed walked to her room to see her for myself. Mom was sleeping, a strand of thinning hair lying across the bridge of her nose. I reached over and kissed her forehead, brushing aside the wayward hair. She was not allowed to have cancer. When a friend betrayed me, or Gavin got an A in citizenship, when I caught the flu, or Savanna broke a finger... I called my mom. How could any of those things matter if she didn’t answer?
Sometime later, the quiet rap of knuckles on the half-closed door grabbed my attention. An older, petite woman with light brown hair and a bright, beautiful smile breezed inside the cramped room. She wore a flowing bohemian skirt and carried a lush bouquet of peonies.
“Elena.”
“Samantha,” she beamed.
I stood to greet her.
“I knew you’d be here,” she said. “It’s been so long.”
Elena, my mom’s dearest friend, set the fluffy pink flowers on the bedside table and gave me a tight hug.
She patted my back, and then held me out at arm’s length, her tiny hands gripping my arms. “Look at you all grown up. You look like a supermodel.”
I shook my head. “Thanks. You look gorgeous Elena. You haven’t aged a day since I left.”
“Please.” She waved her hand in disagreement. “But seriously. Look at you. You know I’m usually not into blondes, that whole all American thing. But you have always had such a European flair about you. Very Sienna Miller. Very Boho-chic.” She shooshed my hair. “So good to see you sweetie.” She hugged me again before we sat down.
“So how did the surgery go?” she asked.
My head pounded. “The doctor said it went really well.” It felt like a betrayal to tell her the truth. My mother should be the one to share that kind of information. Besides, the tumor was probably nothing. There was no reason to worry Elena.
“Thank God, right? What would we do without your mother? She's an angel.”
“She is.” I took another look at my mom, anxious for her to wake up. “So how have you been? I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in better touch with you. My life just got ... so busy. I’ve missed you.”
As a child, when Mom had to pull a double shift at work, or I needed another woman to confide in, Elena was there. She showed me how to use my first tampon. She taught me to match the color of my shoes to my pants rather than my top to make my legs look longer. Elena had been a second mother to me.
“Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head as if it were nothing.
Past scenes with Elena played in my mind. At twelve years old, when other adults noticed my long blonde hair or pretty blue eyes, Elena nurtured my artistic side. She listened to my stories and surprised me with a handmade leather bound journal. The first to encourage my writing, she insisted I write my stories down and promised they would be worth something someday.
As a teen, when other moms flung snide remarks about my various boyfriends, Elena dropped off college brochures and urged me to contemplate the future.
I stopped calling her after I failed to get into UC Santa Cruz’s creative writing program. Then I actively ignored her care packages and notes when I dropped out of school completely. It was impossible to see her here today and ignore the sting of my poor choices.
I put my hand on top of hers, genuinely regretting losing touch with this special woman. From now on, I would show greater appreciation for the important women in my life. “So how is Emanuel, the world’s most perfect husband?”
“Honestly, I’m not really happy with him right now.” She snarled the corner of her lip in mock irritation. “He told me to get rid of this awesome table I found on the side of the road. The table is perfect, it just needs a little work and he can’t see past that. I told him if I knew about his issues with style, I might have thought twice about spending the rest of my life with him.”
I laughed despite my growing concerns for my mother. Why was she still sleeping? “You haven’t changed a bit, Elena. I can’t believe you’re still living here. I thought for sure you would have packed your bags by now. Why didn’t you ever move back to LA?”
“Forget it.” She waved her hand like she was flapping away a foul odor. “My life is here, I need my freedom. I can’t sit in traffic for an hour just to get a manicure.”
Klamath Falls was not known for its rush hour delays.
Elena squeezed my hand. “Oh, that reminds me. There’s this new place in town, Salon Sol. They give amazing mani/pedi’s. Amazing. This place is primo. Not like the other loser businesses you’re used to seeing around here. They even have a masseur. His name is Brett.” She lifted her eyebrows in excitement. “Sha-bammy whammy. I’m telling you. You gotta check this guy out.”
“Like now?” I joked.
“No, like the day after tomorrow. After your mom is back home and ready for some pampering. You could have a little mother/daughter day. Marla would love it.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Mom stirred in her bed. I darted toward her side, willing her to open her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Elena’s eyes shifted between my mother and me.
“Sure. Just eager for her to wake up. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with her yet.”
“Start visiting a little more often,” she nudged. “Listen, I’m on a mission. I’ve got to run home and get dinner going before my guests arrive. I made the mistake of scheduling a little party this evening. Tell your mom I stopped by. I’ll be back again tomorrow.” Elena stood to leave.
“But you just got here,” I protested, nervous about being alone when Mom first woke up.
“I know. But I gotta run. Give your mom my love, and we’ll catch up tomorrow.”
I walked toward Elena and gave her a hug. “Thanks for coming by. I know it will mean a lot to her.”
When the nurses finally woke my mom so she could eat, she didn’t seem at all fazed by the possibility of a cancerous tumor, or by my down pouring of tears. She also didn’t want to hear my tirade about life’s unfairness and what it owed me. Instead she insisted I head home to feed her cranky old cat Earl. Against my better judgment, I left her with my stack of tabloid magazines and promised to be back first thing in the morning.
***
Sorrow followed me home like an abandoned dog. It was only six o’clock and the last thing I needed was time alone to think. I didn’t want to dwell on my past mistakes, nor did I want to give much thought to my present or future. I fed Earl, made myself a peanut butter sandwich, and called my kids.
As soon as we said goodbye, I began to feel restless again. After checking my voicemails, I scrolled through the contacts on my cell phone. I had run into my ex-boyfriend from high school at the small grocery store in town the other day. Bobby had passed me his number and encouraged me to give him a call. He was renting a small house nearby and wanted to catch up.
I sent him a text to see what he was up to for the night. Within seconds my phone chimed with his response.
Waiting to hear from you. Come over.
I only hesitated for a second.