Page 18 of Derek

“Thanks for staying late. I appreciate it.” Sonja left the woman and went into the locker room to get back into her clothes.

Sonja left the building and slid into her Miata, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before exhaling slowly. The day had stretched longer than she expected, each test another reminder of why she dreaded this ritual. No matter how calm she tried to be, breast screening day always felt like a silent countdown, ticking toward something she couldn’t control.

She put the top down and tied a scarf over her head, hoping the wind against her skin would loosen the tightness in her chest. If she could just go fast, let the speed drown out the thoughts, maybe she wouldn’t feel so restless. But rush hour had other plans, trapping her in the slow crawl of traffic, leaving her alone with her unease.

Her grandmother had gone in for a scan, too. That was the day everything changed. The day she learned what it meant to carry a legacy she never wanted. The weight of it never really left her.

She wasn’t ready to go home yet, but the highway was too congested to give her the escape she needed. Speed wasn’t an option, and sitting in traffic only made her feel more caged in. On impulse, she took the next exit and headed toward English Landing Park instead. Maybe walking would help. It was movement—something to keep the restlessness at bay.

By the time she reached the park, the sun stretched long shadows across the path. It wasn’t the rush of speed she craved, but at least the walk kept her from standing still. From thinking too much. She focused on the rhythm of her steps, the sound of the river nearby, anything but the gnawing fear that had followed her out of the hospital.

She wouldn’t know anything until tomorrow. Or Monday.

She just had to wait. Again.

CHAPTER TEN

Friday afternoon, Sonja was in her office at The Sweet and Savory Table working on the books, while Suzie had left right after closing so she could attend her daughter’s soccer game. The café was doing well: Suzie was well ahead on her loan payments to the bank, and Sonja’s retirement fund was accumulating nicely. She didn’t ever want to be a burden to anyone, and money could make that happen.

She was looking forward to her date with Derek that night. They were going to have dinner together before going to the club. She was finishing for the day when her phone rang, startling her out of her musings. She didn’t recognize the number, but as a businesswoman, she received many calls that weren’t in her contacts, so she accepted it. “Hello, this is Sonja Madden.”

“Hi, this is Dr. Davidson, Sonja. How are you today?”

“Hello, Doctor. I assume this is about my tests yesterday?” Sonja’s arms had gotten goosebumps when she realized it was the doctor herself calling. Usually, a doctor’s assistants called to tell her everything was okay. Her stomach knotted so hard she felt nauseous. “No reason to chitchat. What’s the word?”

“You always get right to the point. I like that about you. Simply put, the word is biopsy.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath her. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she couldn’t feel it, like her body had disconnected. The word landed with a sickening thud in her chest, heavy and familiar. She’d heard it before. Too many times.

Please don’t get worried yet.” the doctor continued, as if that were possible. “In all likelihood, it’s nothing. We get false positives from MRIs and ultrasounds all the time. It’s only one small spot. The radiologist thinks it’s suspicious-looking and wants to check it out.”

Sonja struggled to keep the tremor in her hands from reaching her voice. “How small is it?” She forced the words out, but her throat felt thick, her breath suddenly too shallow.

“Between three and five millimeters, so even if it’s malignant, we’ve found it very early. The biopsy is just a precaution because of your family history.”

Her family history. The words stabbed through her, twisting. Her grandmother. Her mother. The losses layered one over the other until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. She swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease the raw, aching tightness in her throat.

“When can we do it? I really hate waiting.” She hated the way her voice wavered, but she needed it over with. She needed to know. The waiting was the worst part—always the worst part.

“How does Monday sound?”

“Great! Monday sounds great.” The words rushed out too fast, too eager, but she didn’t care. If she had to endure this, she wanted it done. “What time? I’d rather it be after work. The café closes at 3:00.”

“You’ll have to call the women’s health center for specifics, but they assured me that Dr. Weymouth has plenty of availability on Monday.”

She barely registered the doctor’s answer. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her skin felt too tight and hot. The room felt smaller, and the air too thick.

Breathe.

She almost missed the doctor’s next words. “They’ll have the results by Wednesday. Why don’t we plan on you coming to see me then?”

“Okay. What time?” Sonja was glad she could get the results in person from someone she knew and trusted.

“How does 4:30 work?” Dr. Davidson asked. “It’s my last appointment of the day, so we can talk as long as we need to.”

“Not that I don’t like talking to you, Doctor, but that sounds ominous.”

“Just covering all my bases. Don’t worry until we have the results. Can you do that?”

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