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Authors: Michelle Sutton
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knew nothing about.
Maybe Katia had a friend Diane could get to know. Someone she could relate to who could understand her pain and be a true friend. One way to find out might be to attend one of the meetings.
She’d always liked Katia, but couldn’t see them ever being the best of friends. Not given their weird history with Ken and with Katia’s late husband. Attending a meeting was the least Diane could do considering how guilty she still felt for hurting her.
No matter that Katia said she had forgiven her; Diane still felt the need to make up for her transgression. And she knew that if she showed up at one of the meetings, Katia would be very pleased. Right now pleasing her took precedence over meeting her own needs. She had to make things right between them.
Chapter 7
D iane walked into her house, thrilled to finally be home. Before she even had a chance to remove her jacket, the phone rang. What a contrast from the prior week.
“Hello?”
“Diane? Where have you been?”
“Mother?” The last she heard her mother had been touring Europe for Thanksgiving.
“Of course. Who’d you think was calling? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I was just released from the hospital.”
“Why were you there?” Her mother’s voice sounded surprised. “Did you get the breast reduction surgery you were considering? You know I think that’s a bad idea.”
“No, Mother. I took too many pills.”
“You did what? Why would you do something stupid like that?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“No. I don’t understand you. Never have. And what was that message you left about being sick? Did you have the flu, or were you lying to get attention again?”
“Mother, I wouldn’t lie. I don’t need attention. I need—just forget it.” Diane sighed. “I have . . . a tumor.” She held her breath, waiting for her mother to lose her composure, but somehow knowing she wouldn’t.
She heard a slight choking sound, but no further comment. She waited several moments for her mother to speak.
Silence screamed between them. Diane exhaled in little puffs, exasperated.
“Mother? Aren’t you going to say something?”
“But what about your hair?”
“What?”
Diane heard what sounded like a gasp. “From the chemo. That’ll make you look horrible.”
“I’m not doing that. Only radiation, if necessary. I may not have to do either if the tumor is benign.”
“Did they . . . are they going to have to cut you open?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“I just wondered if the doctors would ruin your beautiful skin.”
“They’ll have to operate to remove the tumor. The scar should be very small, according to the surgeon.”
“That’s . . . good. Where is it?”
“In my uterus.”
“Oh, Diane. That’s awful. I’m so disappointed.”
“Why? It’s not like I can help it.”
“I’d hoped for grandchildren. I told your father we should’ve had more children. But you were so difficult; he said I couldn’t handle more than one of you.”
“Mother! How can you say that? I already feel bad. You could lay off the guilt a little. I can always adopt. Besides, I don’t even know if I want to get married.”
“Every woman wants to get married.”
“No, Mother, not every woman. I have a career that keeps me plenty occupied.”
“A career won’t warm your bed at night, honey. You need a man.”
Diane grunted. “Whatever.”
“When are you scheduled for surgery?”
“Next Friday. My surgeon says it’s a fast-growing tumor, and that was the first date he had open. It’s already as big as a medium-sized orange. They said I’ll have to be out of work for about three to four weeks before the doctor will release me. I’ll be bored to tears at home so company would be nice.”
Her mother’s voice sounded tight. “Why does it have to be next weekend? I was hoping to come see you before Christmas. Is there any way you can reschedule?”
“No. Not
Maybe Katia had a friend Diane could get to know. Someone she could relate to who could understand her pain and be a true friend. One way to find out might be to attend one of the meetings.
She’d always liked Katia, but couldn’t see them ever being the best of friends. Not given their weird history with Ken and with Katia’s late husband. Attending a meeting was the least Diane could do considering how guilty she still felt for hurting her.
No matter that Katia said she had forgiven her; Diane still felt the need to make up for her transgression. And she knew that if she showed up at one of the meetings, Katia would be very pleased. Right now pleasing her took precedence over meeting her own needs. She had to make things right between them.
Chapter 7
D iane walked into her house, thrilled to finally be home. Before she even had a chance to remove her jacket, the phone rang. What a contrast from the prior week.
“Hello?”
“Diane? Where have you been?”
“Mother?” The last she heard her mother had been touring Europe for Thanksgiving.
“Of course. Who’d you think was calling? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I was just released from the hospital.”
“Why were you there?” Her mother’s voice sounded surprised. “Did you get the breast reduction surgery you were considering? You know I think that’s a bad idea.”
“No, Mother. I took too many pills.”
“You did what? Why would you do something stupid like that?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“No. I don’t understand you. Never have. And what was that message you left about being sick? Did you have the flu, or were you lying to get attention again?”
“Mother, I wouldn’t lie. I don’t need attention. I need—just forget it.” Diane sighed. “I have . . . a tumor.” She held her breath, waiting for her mother to lose her composure, but somehow knowing she wouldn’t.
She heard a slight choking sound, but no further comment. She waited several moments for her mother to speak.
Silence screamed between them. Diane exhaled in little puffs, exasperated.
“Mother? Aren’t you going to say something?”
“But what about your hair?”
“What?”
Diane heard what sounded like a gasp. “From the chemo. That’ll make you look horrible.”
“I’m not doing that. Only radiation, if necessary. I may not have to do either if the tumor is benign.”
“Did they . . . are they going to have to cut you open?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“I just wondered if the doctors would ruin your beautiful skin.”
“They’ll have to operate to remove the tumor. The scar should be very small, according to the surgeon.”
“That’s . . . good. Where is it?”
“In my uterus.”
“Oh, Diane. That’s awful. I’m so disappointed.”
“Why? It’s not like I can help it.”
“I’d hoped for grandchildren. I told your father we should’ve had more children. But you were so difficult; he said I couldn’t handle more than one of you.”
“Mother! How can you say that? I already feel bad. You could lay off the guilt a little. I can always adopt. Besides, I don’t even know if I want to get married.”
“Every woman wants to get married.”
“No, Mother, not every woman. I have a career that keeps me plenty occupied.”
“A career won’t warm your bed at night, honey. You need a man.”
Diane grunted. “Whatever.”
“When are you scheduled for surgery?”
“Next Friday. My surgeon says it’s a fast-growing tumor, and that was the first date he had open. It’s already as big as a medium-sized orange. They said I’ll have to be out of work for about three to four weeks before the doctor will release me. I’ll be bored to tears at home so company would be nice.”
Her mother’s voice sounded tight. “Why does it have to be next weekend? I was hoping to come see you before Christmas. Is there any way you can reschedule?”
“No. Not
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