But even that wasn’t the end of it. Last summer, whenever they touched base, Morgan had still complained about Jim and his new, younger girlfriend, or she’d wax on about the fact that Jim wasn’t measuring up as a parent. She would tell Maggie that Jim had been late to the parent-teacher conferences, or that he’d tried to take the kids hiking in the Cascades even though it was technically Morgan’s weekend to have them. Or that Jim had forgotten to bring an EpiPen when he’d taken the girls to an apple farm, even though Bella was allergic to bees.
To all of those things, Maggie had wanted to add, Chemotherapy sucks, by the way. My hair is falling out and I’m puking all the time. Thanks for asking.
In all fairness, Morgan did ask how Maggie was feeling; Maggie simply had the sense that no matter how awful she felt, Morgan viewed her own situation as worse.
All of that meant fewer and fewer phone calls, especially in the last month and a half. Their last call had taken place on Maggie’s birthday, before Halloween, and aside from a quick text and an equally quick response, they hadn’t even touched base on Thanksgiving. She hadn’t mentioned those things to Mark when talking about her reasons for wanting to stay quiet about her diagnosis for now. And it was also true that she didn’t want to cast a pall over Morgan’s Christmas, especially because of Tia and Bella. But for Christmas to remain peaceful, Maggie figured she’d be better off without her.
*
Maggie caught a cab to the gallery and arrived half an hour after closing. Despite the languid day and another dose of painkillers, she still felt thumped, like she’d been accidentally tossed into the dryer with the rest of the laundry. Her joints and muscles ached as though she’d exercised way too much, and her stomach was churning. When she caught sight of the Christmas tree just to the right of the door, however, her spirits lifted slightly. It was full and straight; since she hadn’t chosen it, part of her had feared that she’d end up with the kind of tree Charlie Brown had picked in the old cartoon Christmas special. After unlocking the door, she stepped into the gallery just as Mark was emerging from the back offices.
“Hi,” he said, his face brightening. “You made it. For a few minutes there, I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Time slipped away from me.” It was more like not having enough steam to make the kettle whistle, but why start with the doom and gloom? “How was it today?”
“Moderately busy. There were a lot of groupies, but only a couple of photographs sold. We received a bunch of online orders, though.”
“Anything for Trinity?”
“Just some online inquiries. I’ve already sent the information, so we’ll see how that goes. There was also an email from a gallery in Newport Beach wondering if Trinity would be open to doing a show out there.”
“He won’t,” Maggie said. “But I assume you passed the information along to his publicist?”
“I did. I also got all your online orders shipped.”
“You’ve been busy. When did the tree arrive?”
“Around four or so? The decorations actually arrived earlier. I’m guessing they were really expensive.”
“The tree is pretty, too. I’m sort of amazed they had a good one left. I would have thought they’d all be sold by now.”
“Small miracles,” he agreed. “I already added water in the base and I popped over to Duane Reade to get an extension cord in case we need it.”
“Thanks.” She sighed. Even standing, she realized, was taking more effort than she’d imagined it would. “Would you mind bringing my office chair out here? So I can sit?”
“Of course,” he said. He turned and vanished into the back; a moment later, he was rolling the chair across the floor, finally adjusting it to face the tree. When Maggie sat, she winced and Mark frowned with concern.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be. What with the cancer eating my insides and all.”
His gaze fell, making her regret that she hadn’t come up with a gentler response, but cancer was anything but gentle.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m all right for now,” she said. “Thank you.”
She studied the tree, thinking that it needed to be rotated slightly. Mark followed her eyes.
“You’re not happy about the gap toward the bottom, right?”
“I didn’t notice it when I saw the tree from outside.”