The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 36 - Snakes and Butterflies

I'm not angry anymore. I'm scared. I'm very scared. My insides feel like they're made of black, iron snakes.

It's ten to eleven. Millie and I quietly take a seat on the grey armchairs in the brilliant-white waiting room and wait for the nurse with the sleek, red hair to call us in. We don't speak. We haven't spoken at all since the scan. There's nothing to say, is there? We just have to wait. Just a few more minutes.

I try to focus on Keith's soothing voice when I talked to him this morning. I try to focus on Sosa's encouraging words. I try to focus on anyone or anything that can push her voice out of my head.

Who was she? And how could someone I don't even know, with so little effort, crush me like that? Is she the ten-minute babe he hooked up with right after he so easily dismissed me from his life? Or is she more than that?

My gut sinks with the heavy realisation that he meant what he said. He is not my friend anymore. He is not my anything anymore. And I have never felt so alone.

A tall man with brown eyes, messy hair and a strong chin walks in and gives his name to the receptionist. I recognise him immediately. His son and wife appear behind him seconds later. I watch them take a seat in the chairs opposite ours. I smile at the boy, who gives me a sort of encouraging nod back. His mother looks better. Healthier and happier. Something inside me fortifies.

Footsteps.

I look down the corridor and the red-headed nurse appears.

"Mrs Emily Buġeja?"

Millie and I stand up. The boy fits his earphones into his ears but our eyes meet again. A shallow raggedy breath escapes me and I can tell he hears it.

I know, his eyes tell me.

My legs are shaking so much I'm terrified they will cave under my own weight, but somehow I make it to the doctor's office and take my usual seat at his desk. Dr Debattista is already in position, elbows on the desk, chin in his hands, square-spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

"Good Morning, Emily," he says in his velvety voice. "How are you today?"

The room is whiter than usual. Colder.

"Anxious," Millie answers frankly. "We took the PET scan yesterday..."

He nods slowly. "Yes. How has your recovery been?"

My eyes rivet around the room, trying to figure out what is different. I hear Millie release a slow breath beside me.

"Good. I feel good," she says eventually. The ironic helplessness in her voice makes my heart throb achingly.

Dr Debattista looks at her for the longest time. His eyes don't flicker in my direction. "Marjorie was very happy with the operation and with your recovery."

Pause.

There must be something missing in this room.

"As you know, she sent some samples for histology testing."

Another pause. The longest one yet.

And then I realise. It's the plant. The leafy plant that usually sits in the window is gone.

"The lab found cancer cells in your lymph nodes, Emily."

Silence.

The room becomes foggy. His voice becomes thicker, slower. My insides become hollow. I hear his voice as though it's coming through a radio from the next room.

"The scan you took yesterday confirms that the cancer has spread since the first CT. The lymph nodes in the groin area are inflamed and there are signs of metastasis to the lungs."