Blender

I walked into the Living Room after hanging up the phone with my sister, Anne. Laughing, I repeated the conversation about the blender to Bob. I thought it was a cute that my family remembered how important the morning smoothie was to Henry and a very telling story about the McGoldrick attention to detail.

Bob obviously did not find the story so funny. His blue eyes darkened with worry. I sat down on the couch primly, hands carefully placed on my knees, waiting for him to reveal himself.

“You know Renie, I might not even be able to go to Nebraska. If my blood counts aren’t good or if the radiation doesn’t work,” he trailed off, reaching for his latte. It had to be cold by now.

I appreciated his concern. It was not easy to be at the mercy of tumors, blood counts, and doctors opinions. Now tickets were being purchased, calendars were being changed, apartments were being rented, all this planning because of Bob. What if it didn’t happen? What if we couldn’t go? What if the tumor didn’t go away?

“Well,” I spoke curtly, “The McGoldrick’s are mobilizing, Bob. You can’t stop them. This is their chance to help, to get involved. So we are going to Nebraska, whether or not you are getting a stem cell transplant, we are going to Nebraska.”

I stood up and walked out of the room, without even a glance behind me.