CHAPTER FOUR
BRENDA

I watched Stacey Bethel, my best friend and fellow teacher, duck into the coffee shop, frantically looking around until her eyes found me. Her cheeks glowed a deep pink, likely from running late, and her dark blond hair was in disarray. Some strands had been straightened while others were left half-curled around her face. It was clear she was in a hurry this morning.

“Sorry I’m late. Mom and Dad stopped by to make sure I was going to bring potato salad to the barbecue tonight. And of course, that meant Clara had to show Grams and Gramps all of her new drawings.” Stacey slid into the hard plastic chairs that dotted the local coffee shop, seemingly unaware that her blouse was buttoned up wrong.

I could just imagine Clara, with her wild spring of dark blond curls and her mother’s eyes giving Stacey’s parents a full description, mostly in baby talk, of what was in the scribbles she drew regularly with washable markers. Clara might be an artist one day, or she might not. What mattered was that her grandparents loved her and adored her enough to oh and ah over those wild scribbles of hers.

“She’s such a cutie, and it’s okay. I bailed on our usual Friday night coffee break last night, so we’re even.” I grinned at her and pointed at her dark brown button-up blouse. Stacey’s pink cheeks became deep red as she saw the button she’d missed and the way the rest of her blouse slouched because she’d missed that one button. “Good grief, my one year old dresses herself better than I do. I thought there was something wrong with this shirt when I left the house, but I was in such a rush to get here that I didn’t even notice.”

“It’s because you have a one year old that you dress like that,” I reminded her gently with a soft smile. “Be kind to yourself, honey.”

Stacey rolled her eyes at herself and grabbed the coffee I’d ordered for her at our favorite cafe. “Maybe I can dress myself properly when she’s 15?”

“One can hope,” I replied, looking at her with the eyes of a friend. She was beautiful, my friend, even in her messy moments. “Although, she’ll be a teenager by then. You might have lost your mind by that time.”

“God, I hope not,” Stacey slouched in her chair, clearly tired, but still getting on with her day. “So, you had your mom and dad last night, I had mine early this morning. And I’ll see them again tonight. Which leads me to a very important question, Frank had already planned a night out with his friends to see the new superhero movie when my parents sprang this barbecue on me. You want to join me and be my support? My brother’s back in town and they’re making a big deal out of it.”

Stacey looked at me with pleading blue eyes that she knew I couldn’t say no to.

“You mean the brother that couldn’t be bothered to come to your wedding? The brother that still hasn’t met your daughter? Oh yes, I’d love to meet him,” I replied, fully intending on giving the guy a lecture on what he was missing out on. Which was why the guy was such a sore spot for Stacey, he just disappeared into thin air one day, from what I’d gathered, to live his life out in California, playing in some kind of music band and was on the road a lot. Stacey never really talked about him much.

“No lectures,” Stacey groaned, before she took another sip of her coffee. “At least not where my parents can hear. They worship the ground he walks on.”

I couldn’t understand why they’d worship a son that disappeared five years ago and couldn’t even pay for them to come see him, if he was so darn busy, but that’s how parents are. I had my struggles with my own parents and brother to look to as an example. “I’d love to come and be your moral support, San, just tell me what time.”

I put my hand over hers as she gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks, honey.”

“That’s what friends are for,” I answered, moving my hand away to pick up my coffee. I had decaf, which Stacey used to question, but she’d stopped after I brushed the questions off with excuses about not wanting stimulants in my system. Which was true, I just hadn’t explained why I didn’t want stimulants in my system.

“So, how was your mom last night?” Stacey asked, changing the subject.

“The same as always. I want her to see that I’m not a child anymore, that I’m not sick, but all she sees is the past. I’m a grown woman, but she always makes me feel like a child,” I complained, not wanting to go into it all too much. Stacey had enough on her plate without my problems weighing her down.

“You need to find a man. Someone to take your mind off of all of this. You know, someone that you can team up with, to help deflect your mom’s worries.” Stacey nodded as if she was agreeing with her own advice.

“I need a man like I need a hole in the head.” I mumbled, looking away from her. “A man is the very last thing I need in my life. I’d have to explain about the scars, about how I’d been sick, about how I could get sick again in the future, and that isn’t something I can face again. I couldn’t put that burden on anyone either.”

“Oh, but just think about it, Bren. You could have someone to lean on if you do get sick again, someone that would support you and take care of you,” Stacey replied, a romantic at heart. “Besides, a man might brighten up your day a little. Especially during cold season when we end up covered in snot and need to be reminded of what else there is in life.”

We both laughed at that, but I wasn’t looking for a relationship like Stacey’s. “Maybe I should get a dog, instead.”

“That’s not a bad plan. Men can be so much work, and you never know what’s going on in their heads. Now a dog? You know what a dog wants, walks, to go potty, belly rubs, and all of your food. Much simpler to deal with. Although, there are things a man can do for you that a dog can’t.” Stacey giggled in a girlish way, leaving her meaning clear.

I felt my cheeks turning pink now and got up from the table to change the subject. “I’m getting a muffin, do you want one?”

“No, but if you find a man while you’re up there, bring him over so I can decide if he’s good enough for you or not.”

I shook my head and sighed as I walked away, my hands shoved deep in my pockets, my shoulders slumped with the heavy weight of knowledge. Memories flooded back of the time I had shared with my now ex-boyfriend. Sometimes I missed the laughter, the midnight conversations, his soft embrace. But then came the realization that I liked him, but I didn’t love him. He deserved more than what I could give him. We’d had a difficult conversation but eventually we both understood and ended things gracefully. He hadn’t been happy with my decision, but he’d respected it, at least.

As I studied the muffins offered behind a glass counter, trying to decide between the chocolate, orange and cranberry, or the blueberry, I wondered if I should give love another shot?

Your cancer could come back. You have to be vigilant. Take your maintenance medicines, and keep coming in for checks, okay?

The voice of my oncologist came back to me, reminding me of why I couldn’t get love another chance. I stood up, my decision made about my love life and my choice of muffin. “I’ll take the orange and cranberry, please.”

As for love? I’d leave that on the shelf for someone else to bother with. I had my family, Stacey and her family, and my kids at school. That was enough for me. I didn’t want to be greedy, after all. Merely living my life at all was more than I could have hoped for three years ago. Having a best friend and a little girl that I was more of a niece to than her own uncle tended to be, was enough for me.