“No,” Zoe said. “Although … I do think about him sometimes. You know, just wonder what he’s like.”
The truth was, Zoe had been thinking of her dad more lately. Maybe it was because of Kate’s husband, David, the perfect, friendly nice-guy dad, or maybe it was because her mom was sick? In those moments—those horrible moments—when she entertained the idea that her mom might actually die, she couldn’t help but think of him. Up until now, she’d been happy not to know anything about him. The thing about having social anxiety was that you weren’t too interested in knowing someone who didn’t want to know you. But things were … changing.
She’d started imagining seeing him on the street. The fantasy was almost always the same. He’d be at the gas station, or walking his dog, and she’d feel it—a zing of electricity in the air. He’d glance up and he would know, of course, that it was her. They’d run all the way home, together, to tell her mom. Look, she would say. It’s him! They’d all squeal and have a revolting three-way hug.
It would be a turning point in their lives. The missing piece for both of them. They’d start spending time together—occasionally at first, and then more often. After a while she’d start texting him “Happy Father’s Day” and then they’d become friends on Facebook, and he would write all those dorky comments on her posts that her friends were always mortified by. And she’d text him and say “Daaaaad!” And he would send back about ten emojis, because dads always overused those things.
But it was just a fantasy.
“I mean … it’s stupid,” she said. “If he was a good guy and he, you know, wanted me … he’d already be in my life. So I shouldn’t even think about it.”
Dr. Sanders’s expression was doing something with his face, sucking at the inside of his mouth or something, that made him look really tense.
“I don’t think it’s stupid to think about it,” he said. “The biological pull is strong. Studies show that children are nearly always better off with both biological parents in their lives. Even just knowing who your father is has the potential to bring you a lot of peace.”
It was the first time Zoe had seen him be anything more forceful than neutral. But there was something in his tone that was stronger. It gave her a funny feeling.
The bell went.
“Zoe—”
“I need to get to class,” she said, jumping up. But afterward, at her locker, she was still thinking about something Dr. Sanders had said. Even just knowing who he is has the potential to bring you a lot of peace. She wondered about this. And it occurred to her that maybe she should find him.
54
“Hungover but still here,” Paul announced, when Alice opened the door. Indeed he did look worse for wear. His eyes were bloodshot and his plaid shirt was buttoned so badly Alice couldn’t understand how he’d managed it. Also, she caught the faint whiff of alcohol. The strangest thing was, instead of feeling angry, she felt grateful that he’d shown up at all.
Paul had been more dependable than Alice expected. Apart from twice, when he was drunk and uncontactable (Alice had had to call Sonja for a last-minute ride), he’d managed to show up when required, and even sometimes when he wasn’t. Truth be told, Alice had started to enjoy having the company, and, she suspected, so did Paul. After a while it occurred to Alice that she hadn’t been the only one alone all these years.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Do turkeys stampede at dawn?”
Paul’s expression said he was too hungover to process humor.
“Forget it,” Alice said. “Let’s go.”
Alice was more than ready. It had been a rough few weeks. Not just the chemo, but the complications. She’d had infections. Low white-cell count. A blood transfusion. She’d had to delay chemo twice. Before she knew it, two months had passed.
As sick as it made her, Alice wanted to have chemo. There was power in the knowledge that she was fighting the disease. Sometimes, when she was stuck in that chair with the tube going into her arm, she’d visualize the poison flowing through her veins, attacking the cancer cells. Stopping it in its tracks. It was, if not a good feeling, the only thing that gave her hope.
Today, she was optimistic. She’d had a blood transfusion a few days before and her blood exam had shown that her white-cell count was up. Yesterday Dr. Brookes had given her the go-ahead for chemo. She was all set. Unlikely as it was, somewhere along the way she’d started to enjoy chemo. She’d trundle in there with Paul and watch a movie or have a cup of tea and chat. The nurses were so upbeat and happy. Last time the young girl and her mother had been there again, and they’d passed two whole hours talking and exchanging magazines.
Paul dropped her off out in front of the hospital, as was their routine, and she went on up while he parked the car. In the elevator she saw Iris, her favorite nurse, who asked about Zoe, and Alice asked her about Russell, the man Iris had met online and was planning to go on a date with. At her last chemo session Iris had shown Alice a photo of him and Alice had commented on his large muscles.
“His profile picture was quite deceiving.” Iris chuckled. “Then again, so is mine.”
By the time Alice got to the chemotherapy room, she was feeling quite chipper. It was nice, being surrounded by people. It was, she suspected, the kind of community most people would have if they worked in an office, or were members of a club. Alice found her community at chemo.
Alice went to her usual station. There were no rules about where to sit, but she always seemed to end up at the same spot. Remarkably, it was always free. “People are creatures of habit,” Iris had said, when Alice had asked about it. “They sit somewhere once, it becomes their spot.”
The spot beside her, typically, belonged to the young girl and her mother, but today it was taken by a woman who looked to be in her seventies, and a support person who must have been her son. They nodded hello, and Alice tried not to be disappointed. She didn’t see any familiar faces. No patients she knew.
Suddenly Alice noticed Kate at the desk. Kate glanced up at the same moment, then quickly looked away again. It was the first time Alice had seen her since her verbal reprimanding a few weeks ago. Since then, as far as Alice knew, Zoe hadn’t seen Kate again. These last few weeks, Alice felt like she had her daughter back. At night, Zoe slept by her side. In the morning, before she went to school, Zoe made her a breakfast that she wouldn’t eat. Still, she felt thoroughly cared for. It was nice.