Page 33 of Before the Storm

“It could be,” Josie said darkly. “But it also could not be.”

“There is always a risk,” Dr. Franklin said.

Josie swallowed and crossed her frail arms. “My doctors in Manhattan told me I had anywhere between three and six months to live. Is that your guess, too?”

“Based on your file, yes,” Dr. Franklin said matter-of-factly.

“And this new treatment plan would give me, what, a couple more weeks?”

“It could extend your life by decades,” Dr. Franklin explained.

Tara’s lips parted with surprise. She wanted to scream,Decades, Josie! You deserve to live many more decades!

“But you don’t know that for sure,” Josie said.

“Nothing in the medical world is for sure.”

Josie let her shoulders slump forward. A full minute passed before she asked, “How long do I have to decide?”

“For every month you put off the treatment,” Dr. Franklin stated, “the medical treatment decreases in efficacy by ten percent.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “So it’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Tara’s hands were in tight balls on her thighs. Her nails tore into her palms.

“We can fight this,” Dr. Franklin said gently. “But in order to do that, you have to want to try.”

Josie closed her eyes.

When it seemed clear Josie wasn’t going to speak again, Tara scrambled to say, “Thank you, Dr. Franklin. It means a lot that you met with us.”

Dr. Franklin’s eyes were shadowed. It was clear she understood the drama of the situation. How do you make someone who’s been through chemotherapy hell want to keep doing treatment?

Fifteen minutes later, Tara and Josie parked in the grocery store lot so that Tara could buy healthy ingredients for an anti-cancer meal. Josie still hadn’t spoken since they’d been in the doctor’s office, and Tara felt jittery. With the engine off and her hands around the steering wheel, Tara stared into the middle distance, watching a very old woman who’d once been friends with their mom wheel a grocery cart to her little white car.

“I can’t do anything when I’m sick from the treatments,” Josie breathed. “I can’t read or watch movies or think. It’s just exhausting, Tara. Right now, I have so much to live for. But it’s only because I’m not on that heinous medicine.”

“What if this medicine is different?”

Josie raised her shoulders. “I just don’t think it is.”

Tara’s eyes filled with tears. Slowly, the old woman piled her groceries into her trunk and shut the trunk door. Once upon a time, that old woman had been a strong and powerful Nantucket wife and mother. Where were her children? Had her husband died?

“You told me before that you’d think about it if I thought about meeting Mom and Dad again,” Tara said, her voice shaking.

Josie nodded. “I did.”

“How do you feel about that now?”

Josie folded her lips. “Let’s make a decision soon.”

Time was running out. Tara knew that. But she hated to think that everything hinged on her agreeing to see their mother and father again. They were strangers.

Tara swept through the grocery store and came back to find Josie half asleep in the passenger seat. Tara felt foggy with love and fear. Back at home, Josie went to her bedroom to rest, and Tara performed the rituals of making salmon and vegetables. Tears drained from her eyes. She wondered if she would ever stop crying. It felt automatic at this point.

At five thirty, Tara and Josie sat for an early dinner. Josie seemed lost in thought and, after just a few bites, admitted she wasn’t hungry. Tara wasn’t, either.

Josie returned to her bedroom, and Tara packed dinner into Tupperware containers and sat at the kitchen table as her thoughts boiled in her mind.

---