“I know. But just try to get a couple of saltines down. Otherwise the meds will probably make you nauseous.”
Mary had no wish to repeat any of the events of the last thirty-six hours, and throwing up again was at the top of her do-not-do list. Her throat already felt like someone had taken sandpaper to it, and her abdominal muscles were sore. And, as the hospital-provided meds wore off, she was feeling the after-effects of the work they’d done more and more.
She forced herself to nibble down two Saltines and sip enough strangely smooth and sweet ginger ale to take the pain medication. “What kind of ginger ale is this?” Mary asked.
“The regular kind. But I put in a spoonful of sugar to take out all the bubbles. Thought it would be easier on your throat that way.”
“How did you know to do that?”
He shrugged. “Get some rest, Mary.”
Mary closed her eyes, feeling the tug of sleep almost immediately.
“Can you let Max out before you leave?” she mumbled.
“I’ll let Max out,” he said as she drifted off, “but I’m not going anywhere.”
––––––––
The room was dark when Mary woke to the sound of muffled voices down the hall. One was male and the other female. Both sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place them. Aidan wasn’t beside her anymore, but Max was. At some point he’d taken over the spot Aidan had occupied and Mary found his cold, wet nose on the pillow, inches from her own.
Max’s eyes were open, looking at her expectantly as if he’d been waiting for her to wake up. His tail began thumping against the bed the moment she did.
The soft blue display of the digital clock read seven p.m.; Mary had slept a solid eight hours. Snug and warm beneath the covers, she would have happily stayed there for a while, but her full bladder forced her out of bed. She had to move slowly and be careful of her movements, but she felt much better than she had that morning.
One look in the mirror told her she didn’t look much better, though. Her face was too pale; her eyes still held some of the fear that came along with being told she had cancer and what she had to endure because of it.
Surgery was as far as she would go, though. She studied her reflection in the mirror, wondering if, in the coming weeks, the weary looking woman staring back would regain her healthy pallor or grow increasingly frail. It all depended on whether or not the cancer came back. The surgeon said he’d gotten it all, but what if whatever caused the cancer in the first place was still there in her system, waiting? What if the test results on what they had removed came back as malignant?
She shook those thoughts away. Positive thinking was imperative. It wouldn’t do any good to focus on what might happen. As of this moment, she was cancer free, and she was not going to waste another minute worrying about things she had no control over.
In the weeks since she was first diagnosed, she’d gotten all of her affairs in order. She’d made sure her will was up to date. Created a notebook detailing all of her assets – the house, her car, the store, bank accounts, stocks, bonds, etc. – as well as her liabilities. She wasn’t exactly rich, but she didn’t have any outstanding debts, either. She’d been able to pay off a lot with the settlement of Cam’s life insurance policy. There was nothing left over, but with just her and Max she was able to comfortably make ends meet with what the flower shop brought in.
It might not be enough for many, but Mary was content. As long as she had enough to get by, she was happy.
While pondering these things, she took care of business and splashed some cold water on her face, then used a liberal amount of mouthwash and brushed her teeth to get rid of the awful taste in her mouth. Lifting her arms was painful and pulled at the multiple incisions, so she wasn’t able to do much about her hair. The braid she’d put it in prior to surgery was still somewhat intact, at least.
Donning a pair of well-worn slippers (“scuffies”, she called them) and her most comfortable robe, Mary ventured into the kitchen, unsure of exactly what (or who) she would find. It was a surprise to see Lexi Callaghan in front of her stove. Cascades of hair in streaks the color of precious metals fell halfway down her back, swaying slightly as she vigorously stirred something in a big cast-iron pot. At the gentle nudge of Max’s nose against her hip (Lexi was even shorter than Mary), she turned and greeted Mary with a friendly smile.
“Hi, Mary. I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen for a little while. Aidan didn’t want you to have to cook anything for a couple of days, and he’s absolutely useless when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“No, I don’t mind,” Mary said, “but I wish Aidan hadn’t asked you to go to all that trouble.”