Backwards

Barbara wondered when the feeling of having been punched in the stomach would go away.  Maybe never. Or maybe in a few months, after her brother-in-law Richard was expected to die.  Ever since his cancer diagnosis, that punched-in-the-stomach feeling had gripped her as much as the melanoma that clung to Richard’s liver.  Treatment was not working. Fifty-four years old and probably wouldn’t see spring.

Richard always called her “Bob.”  When his son Matt was three, he had struggled saying R’s and had pronounced her name “Bob,” and it stuck.  In affectionate retaliation, Barb called him “Witch.” Even his wife, Jan, had to laugh at that one. Now Matt was twenty, but the names persisted as their own family joke. 

In a small town, there is no private suffering.  Wherever Barb went, well-wishers asked how Richard was doing.  Richard, the local computer guru who helped everyone with their tech problems and new gadgets, was known by all.  News of his cancer had spread fast. He was the latest in the too-long line of victims of “the Big C.” Barb was going to miss him--his gentle humor, his patience with people’s tech frustrations.  The punched feeling welled up in her stomach again.

She remembered the day Rich was diagnosed.  He hadn’t been feeling well for a couple of weeks and finally went to the doctor.  Tests confirmed that the melanoma he’d had removed from his head last spring had returned, this time to his liver. That was the day the entire family became celebrities.

“Everywhere I go, somebody asks about Richard,” said Barb’s husband, Mike, over their morning coffee.  “Amazing.”

“Yeah, amazing,” Barb replied.  “I mean, it’s nice that people care, but once in a while I’d like to be asked how I am doing.  I have a life, too.  Richard is the one with cancer, not me.  We haven’t stopped living because my brother-in-law is taking treatments.  You still have your trucking business. I am still teaching. I dunno. It seems as if we are no longer Barbara and Mike.  We are ‘Richard’s family.” This disease has become ours as much as his.”

“Yeah, that’s true.  I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said Mike.  “You know, I read in the Wood Lake paper that Will Omanski killed himself a couple weeks ago.  He went to school with Richard. He was living up by Snake River.”

“What a waste,” Barb said. 

“Yeah.  Why couldn’t he have the cancer, then?”

“No kidding . . . gee, that’s a terrible thought.”  The two sat in silence for a moment. 

The whole world was backwards.  A man who wants to live is facing death before his sixtieth birthday.  A few miles away, a healthy man takes his own life. Terrible. Backwards.

Barb made a grocery list and hopped into the car.  On the way into town, she thought through her Saturday itinerary.  Take my paycheck to the bank.  Groceries. Jenny has basketball at eleven.  Finish reading those essays for the sophomores.   Four loads of laundry. Mike is bowling in the no-tap tournament tonight—think I’ll go watch him.

As she waited in line at the bank drive-up, Barb remembered she had to help her son Craig make posters for for next week’s junior high play.

“Morning, Barb,” said Lorraine from behind the window.  “How are you today?”

“Oh, busy,” Barb answered.  “Millions of papers to read, and—”

“Jan says Richard’s been out and about this week,” Lorraine said.  “I saw him at the bakery yesterday.”

Here it goes again, Barb thought.  Generally the bank was the one place where people did not ask her about Richard, since his wife worked there and kept her colleagues up to date on his progress. 

Barb began the litany.  “Yeah, he’s been feeling pretty well.  He goes in for another scan next Thursday.” 

“Well that’s good.  You want twenties?”

“That’ll be fine.” 

“Have a good weekend, Barb.” 

 Have a good weekend.  Huh. She doesn’t have to think about the cancer until she sees me or Jan or Mike again.  I have to live it all day long. Witch has the cancer, but I feel sick too.  Barb pulled around the corner up to Value Grocery.

Please, God, let me have just one trip to the store without being asked about Richard.

Tiffany, a girl in Barb’s third period class, greeted her from behind the cash register when she entered the store.  Barb smiled back and said hello. She took a cart and began her trip down the aisles. 

Near the cereal she met Beth Hardy, a colleague.  They chatted about kids and the cool weather.

As she waited for her meat order, Barb visited with Diane, her former day care provider.  “Oh, that little Jared Roth is such a stinker,” Diane said. “Yesterday he dumped his whole bowl of Cheerios onto Ashley!”  

Barb laughed. 

In the bread aisle she encountered Irene, a member of their church whom she hadn’t talked to for a couple of months.  “How’s Craig doing in school?”

“Great,” answered Barb.  “He has a part in the junior high play—it’s next Friday and Saturday nights.  Come on over and see it.”

“Oh, I’ll try to be there,” said Irene.  “Is Jenny playing basketball this winter?”

“Yes, fifth grade.”

“What’s Mike up to today?”

“He’s bowling in the no-tap tournament tonight.  Are you and Andy going to bowl?”

“Oh, absolutely.  See you there?”

“Sure.  I won’t be bowling, but I’ll come and cheer you guys on.”

“Thanks.  See you later, Barb!”

Barb finished her shopping and approached the checkout counter.  Tiffany was helping another customer. Angela, the grocer, helped Barb.

“Homecoming this week?” Angela asked as she rang up the food.

“No, two weeks away,” answered Barb.  “I hate that. The kids can get pretty rowdy.”

“Tell me.  Last year the juniors TP’d our house three times.  Jeremy had a lot of cleaning up to do! Fifty-seven ninety, please.”

“Thanks, Angela.”

“Thank you.”

As Barb walked out to the car, she stopped.

No one asked me about Richard, she thought. 

How rude.

Barb sighed and shook her head, smiling.

Yup. The whole world is backwards.