​​Chapter Forty-Six
Rochelle

Dr. Spencer isn’t anything like Dr. Cohen. She is small and blonde, and I get the feeling if I look at her the wrong way, she’ll break in two. It’s not just her thin fame; it’s the fact that she’s holding herself together with intense concentration, the deep gulley between her eyebrows giving her secret away.

There are no photos on her desk. This is, after all, nothing but business.

“I’ve looked through everything Dr. Cohen sent. And I’ve confirmed his findings. It’s metastasized to your lungs. I’m afraid we’re running out of options.” I think about rubbing my finger down the gulley or giving her a hug to hopefully feel her relax. She seems more on edge than I do. And I’m the one dying.

“Fair enough,” I say, which I’m sure is odd for her to hear. But why shouldn’t it be? I’ve lived a long life. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve found Jesus. I’ve lost Him on the days I’ve pondered ending it all, and I found Him again, followed Him to a place called White Smoke where my closest friends are a wound-tight cancer specialist and an A/C repairman. It’s all relative and all that jazz.

I feel a little light for some reason. I think maybe because I was worried she’d say I had a ton of options, and then I’d have to sink my teeth into several, weighing the cost of saving my own life. But I’m starting to think that’s not how this works nor is that the way this will all go down.

We finish up when there’s nothing more to say. She gives me six months. I thank her and smile inside because only God knows the truth behind that. 

I’m un-tethered like a balloon when I get into the Jaguar. I grab the car phone and call, not expecting anyone to pick up but then a high, trill voice answers and plucks at my ear drum.

“Augustus residence, where you have to wear that last name to get any respect around here. Can. I. Help. You?” Oh my.

“Um, yes, may I speak to Glenn please?”

“And who, pray tell, may I ask is speaking?” I don’t take the bait for fear of her slamming the phone down in my ear.

“Yes, it’s his homeowner’s insurance agent. I’m just calling to clarify a few things in our new policy.”

“Oh. Alright. One sec,” Kimber says, and I can hear rooms and wind rush by as she takes the cordless and hunts down Glenn.

“Somebody important,” she says, staccato-like, and I imagine she’s jabbed the long metal antennae into his side.

“Hello?” He sounds tired. I scold myself when I feel vindicated about it.

“Oh, hi there,” I say. The lightness has staked its claim on my voice.

“Rochelle?”

“The one and only. Trouble in paradise?” It slips out. I promise.

“Heh...well, you know how the younger ones can get.”

“I’m not sure I have much experience in that category, but I’m sure you know how to handle yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I had thought so...” Glenn’s an old man, and for the first time, I can finally hear it.

“Well, I won’t be long. I just wanted to give you an update. One, I’ve found Natalie.”

“Really? What’s she like after all these years?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her in person, but she’s knocked up with some guy’s baby and not the guy she’s living with. So I’d say...changed.”

“I’d have to agree with you on that one. Wren still with her, I imagine?”

“Yeah, she is. I’m working up the courage, Glenn. It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he says, almost sad.

“Oh and one more thing. I’m dying. Officially, I guess.”

“As are the rest of us. You’re just getting a bit of a head start.” I laugh until I’m the one

who’s sad now. “I miss you, Rochelle,” he says.

“I miss you, too, Glenn.” In the background Kimber is throwing verbal darts.

“Your next check is coming soon. If you need anything–”

“I know, Glenn.”

“Okay. I love you, and, well, you really don’t know how sorry I am.” Something sounds like it’s been flung against the wall.

“I’m starting to realize that,” I say and hang up on the man who used to mean everything.