Finding Out

She found a lump in her breast, summer of 2011. She went to the doctor, and had a biopsy. A week went by. The results were supposed to come on Monday, and Catherine drove to my house to wait for the call. When her phone rang she stiffened. “It’s them,” she said, and listened for a moment before she turned away, her shoulders shaking. “Is this a death sentence?” I heard her whisper, weeping. I put my arms around her. Catherine makes no sound when she weeps, but her body heaves and trembles. “It will be all right,” I told her. “It will be all right.” But my body was ice-cold.

I called her sisters and her brother, who had one question. Will she be all right?

“Of course,” I think I said. “Of course she will.”

Then I called Chuck. “It’s cancer,” I told him.

“God, no,” he said.

“I’m terrified,” I said.