Page 12

Part 6

“Umbrella”

April

This morning, I received a call from my doctor’s office that the CT scan was clear except for something suspicious near my liver. My doctor reassured me that it was most likely nothing, but she referred me for an abdominal MRI, just to be safe. Great, yet another appointment in the growing list.

I don’t have time to worry about the CT results or the upcoming abdominal MRI, though, because I’m on my way to have a breast MRI. I briefly break my “don’t Google anything about this process” rule I made with myself and look up what that entails while Abby drives me to yet another radiology office.

“Oh my gosh. Not only am I going to be in a giant tube, but I’m going to be face down with my breasts in some sort of contraption,” I tell Abby as I scroll through images of breast MRIs on my phone.

She stops at a red light and glances over at the picture I’m showing her. “Looks like they’re going to put your boobs in some kind of jail!”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Yep.” I put my phone away before I get freaked out any more about this impending test. “I wonder if it will be easier having an MRI being face down. Like, I won’t be able to tell that I’m in a confined space, maybe?”

Abby shrugs. “It’s possible. I’ve never had an MRI, so I have no clue what to expect. I’ve heard they’re really loud, though, but they let you have music to drown it out.”

“Yeah, I had one done on my knee after the accident, and I got to pick a radio station to listen to while they did it. But, I went in feet first, so my head never went in it. It was really loud, though. Almost drowned out the music.”

When we arrive at the office, Abby parks in the very full parking lot, and we go into the two-story brick medical building. I locate the suite I’m supposed to go to on the first floor, and we walk down the hall in silence. Once there, I check in, and we take our seats in the waiting room. Thankfully, it’s empty except for us, so I hopefully won’t have to wait very long. I grip the arms of the chair in a death grip and my knee starts bouncing up and down.

Abby faces me and puts her hand over mine. “You know this is only a chapter, right?”

“Huh?” With the blood pounding in my ears, I’m not sure I’ve heard her correctly. I turn to look at her so I can see her words as well as hear them.

“This is only a chapter. It’s not your whole story,” she says reassuringly.

I suddenly have this feeling of not only calm but of something else I can’t quite place. Almost like I’ve heard her say that before, but I know that’s not true.

However, I don’t have time to sort out those feelings because a nurse calls me back then for my test. Abby gives me a hug and wishes me luck as I head off for the next test in my journey.

The nurses get me changed into yet another itchy gown that’s been washed a thousand times. Not like it matters because they’re going to have me practically take it off as soon as I get in for the test anyway. In the testing room, the giant MRI machine looms like a coffin with the world’s worst drummer playing inside it. On the patient table is the “boob jail” I saw online, along with several pillows, wedges and bolsters of varying sizes.

The nurses get me positioned on my knees, with a pillow underneath them for comfort, and with all the other supportive things under me that I need to keep my back flat while my breasts dangle down into this metal “jail.” There’s a face cradle, like on a massage table, and they pull my arms out in front of me like Superman. It’s not as uncomfortable as I thought, and with the headphones, I’m able to listen to ‘80s music to try to drown out the hammering of the scanner.

My mind wanders as I’m taken in and out, in and out of the machine, but mostly I’m thinking I hope they find something and that it’s small and treatable.

* * *

“Just wear the first outfit you tried on,” Abby says, exasperated.

I look back at the bed to see my favorite jeans, and swirly navy blue and pink top lying on my pillow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. You already said it’s your favorite outfit. And I listened to you expound on how soft the peachskin fabric is and how all clothes should be made out of cotton and peachskin. Just wear your favorite outfit and let me get dressed for my evening.”

I take another look in the mirror at the black A-line skirt and purple blouse I’m wearing currently, and decide Abby is right. Of course she’s right. I should be happy and comfortable on my date. I looked up the restaurant online the day Roddy texted me and found out it’s a fairly casual place. Which is the whole reason he said he texted in the first place—so that I would know what I should wear. And did it help? Nope.

“Okay,” I relent, pulling off the skirt and blouse, to put on the more comfortable outfit. “Thank you for your help. Now, go put on your PJ’s and enjoy your marathon of Veronica Mars .”

“I will. And I want you to have a great time on your date. Just be yourself and stop obsessing over the dreams and the kiss,” she says, giving me a pointed look. “Pretend it’s just a regular old first date and you can save that whole nervousness thing for whether he’ll kiss you goodnight or not.”

“That’s not really helping, you know.”

“I know. You’re going to worry regardless. Just try to relax and enjoy it.”

I nod and finish getting ready. I put on my pink teardrop earrings and clip the right side of my hair back with a sparkly clip. Shelley brushes against my legs and meows, letting me know it’s dinnertime. I want to scoop her up in my arms and squeeze her but resist the urge. Not only would she probably try to bite me, but I also don’t want to have cat hair all over myself for the date. Instead, I pat her on the head and rub her ears briefly before filling her bowl with the salmon-flavored kibbles she loves. She tucks in immediately, barely coming up for air.

I hear a knock at the door, so I take one last quick look in the mirror before going to answer it. I grab my purse from the table in the entryway and open the door, planning to run out to greet Roddy so I can get away from the embarrassment of introducing him to Abby. She means well, but I know she’ll mention something about the kiss.

“Hi!” Nate and Isaac exclaim in unison as they push past me into the apartment. They look around, then turn back to me.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, figuring I already know the answer.

Nate takes their jackets and hangs them on the coat rack. “We’re here to spy on your new mystery man, of course.”

“You know, it’s not spying if you’re standing in the middle of the apartment where he can see you, right?”

“Sure it is,” Isaac chimes in. “We just came over to visit our good friend Abby and take her out for a drink. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

Abby appears at her bedroom door still wearing the trousers and blouse she had on when she said she was going to change. And she’s touched up her makeup. “That’s right. Just three friends getting ready to go out for a drink.”

“Oh, so you did this?” I look pointedly at Abby. In answer, she pretends to check her phone for a message. Of course she invited Nate and Isaac over to see Roddy. And of course she isn’t wearing her PJ’s because she’s just dying to meet him too. I guess my plan to rush out of the apartment is out of the question now. “Fine. But, please, don’t be weird.”

They all promise to just say hello and let us go on our date. But, if I know these three like I think I do, Roddy’s not going to know what hit him. We also make plans to go pick up the rest of my furniture next Tuesday while Suz is at work since I haven’t heard back from her. I assume she’s just in a snit because I left, but I’ll make sure not to disturb her things and only take what’s mine. Mostly, I really want to pick up my mother’s rocking chair from the guest room, and just get everything else out of there so I don’t have to keep thinking about it. I have enough on my plate as it is.

Sure enough, there’s a knock at the door and as I go to answer it, I hear the three of them gathering behind me like that scene in Love Actually where the Prime Minister goes to Natalie’s house to tell her he misses her, and her entire family is crowded around on the stairs staring at them. Now, of course, this is only three people, not ten, but it still isn’t what I had in mind.

I take a deep breath and open the door, and Roddy is standing there holding three orange tulips. “Hello, Clare. These are for you,” he says, handing me the delicate flowers.

I take them and my hand brushes his. My heart beats a little faster. “Thank you. Tulips are my favorite flower.”

He smiles. “Mmm. I just had a feeling you weren’t a rose kind of girl.”

I hear Nate swoon and Isaac clear his throat to remind me, yet again, that they are here.

“Oh, Roddy, this is my roommate, Abby. And our friend Isaac and his fiancé Nate.” I gesture to each one in turn, and they all grin like fools at him. I actually see Nate looking Roddy up and down, and I give him a surreptitious glare.

“Hello, everyone,” Roddy replies, and gives them a nervous little wave.

Nate steps forward and asks, “What, exactly, are your intentions with Clare?”

“Nate,” I say with a warning tone.

Before I can say anything else, Roddy puts his arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says to me. Then, turning to Nate, Isaac and Abby, he says, “I intend to take Clare out for a nice dinner where I hope to get to know her better. Anything beyond that will be up to her. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes, that sounds just fine,” Nate agrees, looking a little sheepish. He takes the flowers from me. “I’ll put these in water for you. Now, you two run along and have a good time.”

“Shall we?” Roddy asks putting out his arm which I take as we head down the stairs.

* * *

YoHo Asian Bistro is a cozy restaurant in Cary. I’ve ridden past it a few times, but with having to walk, take the bus or rely on the kindness of friends to get me places, I don’t spend much time outside of downtown Raleigh. The hostess takes us to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. The benches have high backs, and the tables are made of thick knotted wood that looks like it could have been part of an old ship or something.

“So, do you come here a lot?” I ask then shake my head. “Sorry, that sounds so cliché.”

Roddy laughs. “Pretty regularly. I live right down the road, so it’s convenient. And their take-out is quick and good.”

“I didn’t know you lived over this way. If I’d known that, I could have just met you here.”

“Nonsense. It was no trouble at all.”

“Seriously? It was nearly twenty minutes out of your way to come all the way to the Village District and back.” Of course, I’m happy he went to all the effort, and it’s not like there’s rush hour on a Saturday, but still.

“Sorry, but I wasn’t raised to meet a girl at a restaurant for a first date. My mother would be appalled if she heard I did something like that.”

So, he’s close with his mother and his sister then. That’s almost always a good sign. Suz wasn’t close with anyone in her family really. Maybe you could say she was close with her dad, but it’s not like they actually talked about anything meaningful. Don’t get me wrong, Suz’s parents are really nice people, but they’re not big on emotions. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree there.

“Well, I thank you for going out of your way to get me.” I pick up my menu and am pleasantly surprised by the heft of it. They’ve got everything from Lo Mein to sushi, Pad Thai to edamame. It’s an Asian food lover’s dream!

“See anything that looks good?” Roddy asks.

“Everything looks good. So good I have no idea how to narrow it down.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I have that trouble sometimes too. If you like, we could get a couple different things and share them. And do you like sushi? I usually get a couple rolls as an appetizer.”

“That sounds good. I will say that I’m vegetarian, so it would need to be veggie-friendly sushi.” I shiver slightly at the thought of raw fish.

He looks surprised. “Something else we have in common. I’m vegetarian as well. I usually stick with the avocado maki and the fried sweet potato maki.”

“Wow. How long have you been a vegetarian?”

“Since college,” he replies, taking a sip of water. “My mother didn’t really understand at first, because she’s French and she couldn’t imagine any meal without meat, but she’s slowly warmed to the idea. She even does Meatless Mondays every week for her and my dad. What about you?”

“I’ve been vegetarian all my life. My parents were, and I’ve never really considered anything else.” I glance at the menu again, secretly beaming inside that he’s also vegetarian. “As for the food, I’ll defer to you since it all just looks so good.”

When the server comes, Roddy orders the sushi, spring rolls, an order of vegetable Lo Mein, sesame tofu, and some extra plates so we can try some of everything. The server writes it all down, then hustles off to put in the order. And, we’re left alone without menus to distract us from looking at each other. The room suddenly feels very warm.

Roddy says, “I was going to ask,” at the same time I manage the very intelligent, “So.” I gesture for him to continue.

“I was going to ask, if you’re comfortable answering, how did everything turn out with the test that I took you to?” he asks.

That was not what I thought he was going to ask, but I assumed it would come up at some point. “It was fine. Only one thing showed up that my doctor’s not too concerned about, but they’re sending me for another MRI to be sure,” I reply.

He nods. “That’s good, I hope. And have they determined the cause of the malignant lymph node yet or a course of treatment? Sorry, my father is a doctor, so I grew up hearing about his medical cases.”

“I actually just got the results back of the breast MRI I had done earlier this week and—” My voice hitches, and I’m not really sure how I feel talking about the breast cancer diagnosis I just received with this man I barely know on our first date. Roddy puts his hand on mine.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about this, now or ever. Let’s just enjoy our evening, shall we?” Both his voice and his eyes are very reassuring.

I nod, collecting myself.

“Clare, what is it that you do for a living?” Roddy asks, changing the subject.

“I’m a travel agent. My friend and business partner, Nate—who you just met—and I run our own agency: Nerds on a Plane,” I reply, feeling on steadier ground. “We specialize in travel adventures for people who want to see where their favorite movies and tv shows were filmed, or want to learn more about their favorite authors. I mean, really, we can turn any trip into something nerdy.”

“Really? That sounds amazing. I might have to get you to plan a trip for me sometime. I’ve always wanted to go to Austria to learn more about Mozart and Strauss.”

“We’d be happy to!” I say, meaning it. I try to think of a smooth way to confirm my suspicions about his line of work, but nothing “smooth” comes to mind. “ And you were about to tell me where you work the other day when we were interrupted.”

He nods. “Yes. I was going to say that I play cello for the North Carolina Symphony.”

Even though I already knew this, I can feel my eyes widen as if I’m actually surprised. “Really?”

“Yep. I’ve been playing with them for about five and a half years now.”

That hits me like a ton of bricks. He’s been playing with the symphony since just before my parents died. As in, I most likely just started seeing him—but not really since I never had binoculars—right before they passed away. And the dreams didn’t start until after they were gone. Again, I feel like I’m losing my mind. But I can’t let myself get bogged down with this now. Not on our date. I remind myself to do as Abby said stop thinking about all of this and get back to the here and now.

“Clare?” Roddy says. “You seemed a million miles away for a second there.”

“Sorry, I was just…I was actually at the symphony concert on Friday night.”

Now it’s his turn to look surprised. He looks about ready to say something, then doesn’t for a few beats. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” I half lie since we only heard part of it, what with my panic attack. “Isaac and I really enjoyed it. Beethoven and Mozart are two of my favorite composers.”

“Mine too,” he says. “So…uh…did you already know I played for the symphony, and you went to the concert to—”

“Stalk you?” I interrupt, smiling.

He nods.

“No. I’ve actually been going since I was a kid, and my dad would get season tickets and take me. Now, I get season tickets myself. Isaac usually goes with me.”

“Ah, well, it’s a relief that I don’t have to run screaming from the restaurant.” He smirks.

“I’m sure.” I’m glad he can have a sense of humor, considering how all this began. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’d have a sense of humor about this if I were in his shoes. There are so many coincidences that this all seems too good to be true. He seems too good to be true.

I’m about to ask him whether he has a day job or if he just plays for the symphony when the server arrives with our appetizers. I’m so hungry I don’t really think about anything but the delicious food in front of me. Roddy graciously holds each plate up for me to take some, then serves himself.

“Do you have a day job too or…?” I ask then shove an avocado maki into my mouth to hide the fact that I can’t come up with a way to finish the question.

Roddy swallows. “Not so much a day job, but I do teach music lessons on the side. I have about fifteen students, though not all of them come on a regular basis. Some of them I’m tutoring, so to speak, for their regular school classes.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of students. Do you enjoy teaching?”

“Most of the time. I really love when they start to get it, you know? But the first several months can be brutal when they have no clue what they’re doing and everything sounds very scratchy.” He grimaces. “I know I sounded like that when I first started playing, so I get it. But once they really start to get how to play, their faces light up and it’s a great feeling to know you’ve helped them achieve that.”

I smile at him. “I’m sure that must be beautiful to see.”

We eat in silence for a while, until I hear a disturbance near the entrance. There’s some older lady who seems to be shouting across the restaurant. Over the music playing, it sounds like she’s shouting, “A goose!” But, that can’t be right. As if in slow motion, she starts walking toward our side of the restaurant, with a younger woman in tow, and now she’s waving and continuing to repeat “Oh-gooo-st!” As she comes closer, I glance at Roddy to give him a “can you believe this lady” sort of look, and I see he’s trying desperately to fold his body in on itself while looking at the wall. Almost as if he’s trying to hide himself from what’s going on. Then, I realize he must know this woman.

“Auguste,” she says, the word finally becoming clear as she’s now standing at our table, the younger woman standing behind her. “Auguste, why did you not respond when you heard me calling to you?”

Why the heck does she keep calling Roddy that? Is she actually a crazy, French, orchestra stalker who gave him some kind of different name for when she sneaks up on him in restaurants?

“You know I hate that name,” Roddy says, through gritted teeth. “Why can you never call me Roddy, Mother?”

Mother? The crazy orchestra stalker lady is his mother? Of course, she’s not a stalker then but maybe still a bit crazy. And, her French accent is there, but not overwhelming, like she’s been in America for quite some time.

“Fine, darling. I’ll call you by that silly nickname your father picked out.” She waves her hand as if to brush away the thought. “Now, come give ta mère a kiss.”

Roddy stands up and kisses her lightly on the cheek, then turns toward me. “Clare, I’d love to introduce you to my mother, Sabine.”

Unsure whether I’m supposed to kiss her too or what, I quickly place my napkin on the table and stand up with my hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Sabine shakes my hand firmly, then releases it while looking me up and down. Self-consciously, I glance down at the floor. “Ah, Clare, you are just as lovely as Roddy described. But he simply did not say just how beautifully vibrant your hair truly is. Red hair is so becoming for some. I myself have tried to pull it off—with dye, you know—but it never worked for my complexion the way it does for you. Très magnifique!”

I can’t help but smile. I’ve always loved my hair and even though I’m complimented about it all the time, no one has ever said it quite like that. Although, this is bittersweet these days as the thought swirls in the back of my mind that I might lose my beautiful hair if I have to do chemo. I shake that thought from my mind as I hear Roddy speak again.

“I’d also like to introduce you to my sister, Camille.”

Camille steps out from behind Sabine and gives a small wave. “Nice to meet you, Clare.”

“You, too,” I say. Then I remember to add, “Thanks for having him text me the restaurant ahead of time.”

Camille grins. “Sure thing. Glad to be of service.”

We all stand there by the table awkwardly for a few moments, until Camille finally breaks the silence. “Mother, we really should let them get back to their date. Their food is getting cold.”

“Ah, yes,” Sabine relents. “Enjoy your evening, Clare and…Roddy.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he replies, kissing her on the cheek again.

Sabine and Camille head back to the cashier to pick up their take-out and leave. Roddy and I sit back down, and I put my napkin back on my lap. I’m just about to say something about how nice his mother and sister seemed, when he says, “My full name is Auguste Rodin Vaughn.”

I look up at him and see the flush on his cheeks as he admits this. I think about saying something corny like “interesting” or “that’s neat,” but decide against it. I just try to give him a reassuring smile and reach my hand out for his across the table—which is not an easy task considering how many plates of food are sitting between us. He takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“As I mentioned before and I’m sure you could tell from meeting her, my mother is French, and she takes art very seriously. She swears up and down that my first word was Monet.” He chuckles. “My mother has a very dominant personality, and my father doesn’t like to argue, so she won out. But my father gave me the nickname Roddy, and has never called me anything else. Most of my school career, my teachers would only call me by what was on the class roster, but they always pronounced it August, and my mother would speak with the principal, and it just always turned into this whole big thing. I liked the name my father gave me—less pretentious—so I went with it.”

“So, Camille’s middle name is? Monet?” I venture.

“Claudel. She went for the sculptors slash lovers.” He rolls his eyes.

“Ah. Well, I won’t say it isn’t a bit quirky to name your children after famous artists, but my dad named me after the county where his mother was born in Ireland, which I always thought was a bit strange.”

“But it’s a beautiful name. And a beautiful county.”

“Alas, I have never been. My father always said he’d take me, but there was either no time, no money or something else would come up.” I feel the tears threaten, but I will them back down. “He and my mom passed away before we ever got to go.”

Roddy squeezes my hand again and I see true sympathy in his eyes. “I’m so sorry to hear that. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have they been gone?”

I nearly blurt out the number of months, weeks and days, but simply say, “About five years.”

“I’m so sorry, again.” He gently rubs his thumb on my hand.

I take a deep breath, because I know we cannot continue to talk about this or I’m going to lose it. Instead, I pick up my fork with my other hand and start eating again. “This sesame tofu is amazing.”

Taking my cue, he gives my hand another squeeze, then releases it so he can start eating again too. “It really is. But I have to say, the Lo Mein is my favorite.”

* * *

When we get back to Abby’s apartment—err, my apartment, I guess—Roddy walks me to the door, holding my hand. My hand feels like it fits with his so well, it astounds me. I’m giddy as we exit the elevator, but also a little sad because our date is over. I know Abby will be home and I don’t want him to have to go through the third degree again tonight.

As we reach the apartment, I see a note stuck to the door.

Gone out with the boys for drinks.

Don’t wait up. –A

I pull the note off and grab my keys from my purse. I turn back to Roddy, my heart in my throat. “Do you want to come in for tea?”

He nods and runs his hand down my cheek before pulling me into a kiss. His lips feel so soft and warm against mine. Everything about the kiss feels right and perfect. It sounds so cliché, but it feels like we were meant to be. And that both thrills and scares me to death.

He pulls back and I reluctantly turn back to the door. My hand shakes as I put the key in the lock. I open the door and before I know what’s happening, I grab him and kiss him again, just like that first night in the rain. Only, this time, the skies are clear.