“I love you, too,” said Kathleen. “And that helps.”
IT WAS THEIR LAST trip home from the radiation clinic. Kathleen was finished. She should have been smiling and sharing a sigh of relief with Buddy. But instead, Kathleen wept quietly into her hands, unable to explain why.
Rachel and Terry had bantered with Kathleen as she moved into position. Over the intercom, Kathleen heard them count to three and suddenly break into song: “Is Miz Levine all set?” to the tune of “I Could Have Danced All Night.” Kathleen laughed so hard, Rachel had to come out and make sure she hadn’t moved off the mark.
Afterward, they escorted Kathleen to the staff coffee room for cake and a card signed by everyone. The girls kissed her. Marcy hugged her and didn’t say anything about support groups, which Kathleen took as a parting gift. Dr. Singh dropped by and ended the celebration with a kind of benediction: “Whenever this time comes to mind, may you recall the kindness of these faces.”
As they neared home, Buddy said, “I wish I could say something, Kath. I wish I could do something.”
She blew her nose. “There’s nothing you can do. I’m just, well, it’s just an emotional day.”
“What’s this?” Buddy exclaimed as they pulled in behind a Ryder van parked in their driveway.
“What’s going on?” Kathleen asked.
“Beats me.”
Jack opened the front door as they got out of the car.
“What’s with the truck?” Buddy called.
“Hello to you, too,” Jack said, reaching out to hug Kathleen. “Congratulations on being done, Mom.”
“Thanks, hon. But what’s in the truck?”
“I should have called, I guess, but I didn’t want you to worry. Where’s Hal?”
Hal, Buddy explained, had taken his mother’s car to Boston to run some secret errand. “Do you know what he’s up to?” Kathleen asked.
“No clue.” Jack had already turned the kitchen upside down, a griddle set out and pancake batter ready to go.
“And the truck?” Buddy asked again.
The truck, Jack explained, was full of his stuff because Lois had gotten the lead in a touring production of The Music Man, and the sublet in the apartment was up.
“Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry,” said Kathleen.
“It’s not that big a deal.” He shrugged.
“Separating with Lois isn’t that big a deal?”
“Separating? We were roommates. Friends.”
“You were?” said Buddy.
“You were?” Joyce said.
“You didn’t think we were, oh.” Jack shook his head. “No, no. We’re good friends. She still wants to meet you guys.
“But jeez, parents, aren’t you curious about why I’m here with all of my stuff in a truck?”
“No guessing games, Jack,” Buddy said. “Not today.”
“Okay, okay. Do you remember Ed Frisch? He was on the wrestling team with me in high school? Big guy with kinky, blond hair? Anyway, he’s a developer in Boston now, and he’s opening a new seafood restaurant in the new waterfront hotel downtown? And” — Jack paused for effect — “you are looking at its new executive chef.”
“Wow,” said Buddy, who hugged Jack and started pumping him for details. “When do you open? Do you get to design the whole menu?”
But Kathleen only smiled and nodded. She was still on the verge of tears and ashamed that she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for her son’s news. She fled to the bedroom and, when Buddy checked on her a few minutes later, pretended to be asleep.