“What the hell do you mean, there's very little you can do to help her? What is that supposed to mean, dammit!?” The doctor understood perfectly. He had every right to be angry, at the fates that had struck her down and the doctors who couldn't help her. “What do you goddamn guys do all day long? Take out splinters and lance boils on people's asses? The woman is dying of cancer and you're telling me there's very little you can do for the pain?” He began to sob as he sat across the desk staring at Johanssen. “What are we going to do for her …Oh God …somebody help her …”It was all over. And he knew it. And they were telling him there was very little they could do for her. She was going to die a death of agonizing pain. It wasn't right. It was the worst travesty of everything he believed that he had ever known. He wanted to shake someone until they told him that something could be changed, that Liz could be helped, that she would live, that it was all a terrible mistake and she didn't have cancer.

He laid his head down on the desk and cried, and feeling desperately sorry for him and totally helpless, Dr. Johanssen waited, and in a moment, he went to get him a glass of water. He handed it to Bernie with sad Nordic eyes and shook his head. “I know how terrible it is, and I'm so sorry, Mr. Fine. We'll do everything we can. I just wanted you to understand our limitations.”

“What does that mean?” Bernie's eyes were those of a dying man. He felt as though his heart was being torn from him.

“We'll start her on Demerol pills, or Percodan if she prefers. And eventually, we'll move her to injections. Dilaudid, Demerol, morphine if that works better for her. She'll get increasingly large doses and we'll keep her as comfortable as we can.”

“Can I give her the shots myself?” He'd do anything to ease the pain.

“If you like, or you may want a nurse for her eventually. I know you have two small children.”

He suddenly thought of their summer plans. “Do you think we'd be able to go to Stinson Beach, or do you think we should stay closer to the city?”

“I see no harm in going to the beach. It might do you all good to have a change of scene, especially Liz, and you're only half an hour away. I go there myself sometimes. It's good for the soul.”

Bernie nodded grimly, and set down the glass of water the doctor had given him. “She loves it.”

“Then by all means take her.”

“What about her teaching?” Suddenly their whole life had to be thought out again. And it was still spring. She had weeks more of school. “Should she quit now?”

“That's entirely up to her. It won't do her any harm, if that's what you're afraid of. But she may not feel up to it if the pain bothers her too much. Why don't you let her set her own pace.” He stood up, and Bernie sighed.

“What are you going to tell her? Are you going to tell her that it's in her bones?”

“I don't think I have to. I think she knows from the pain that the disease is advancing. I don't think we need to demoralize her with these reports”—he looked at Bernie questioningly—”unless you feel we should tell her.” Bernie was quick to shake his head, wondering how much more bad news they could take, or if they were doing the wrong thing. Maybe he should take her to Mexico for laetrile, or put her on a macrobiotic diet, or go to Lourdes, or the Christian Science Church. He kept hearing remarkable tales of people who had been healed of cancer through outlandish diets, or hypnosis or faith, and what they were trying was obviously not working. But he also knew that Liz didn't want to try the other stuff. She didn't want to go haywire and run all over the world on a wild-goose chase. She wanted to be home with her husband and her kids, teaching at the school where she had taught for years. She only wanted to go so far, and she wanted her life to remain as close as possible to what it had been when it was normal.

“Hi, sweetheart, all set?” She was dressed and waiting in her room, in a new wig his mother had brought out. This one looked so real he couldn't even tell it wasn't her hair, and other than the dark circles under her eyes and the fact that she was so thin, she looked very pretty. She was wearing a light blue shirtwaist dress and matching espadrilles and the blond hair of the wig cascaded over her shoulders much the way her own hair would have.

“What did they tell you?” She looked worried. She knew something was wrong. The ribs hurt too much, and it was a sharp pain like nothing she'd ever had before.

“Nothing much. Nothing new. The chemo seems to be working.”

Liz looked up at her doctor. “Then why do my ribs hurt so much?”

“Have you been picking up the baby a lot?” He smiled at her, and she nodded, thinking back. She carried him all the time. He wasn't walking yet, and he always wanted to be carried.

“Yes.”

“And how much does he weigh?”

She smiled at the question. “The pediatrician wants to put him on a diet. He weighs twenty-six pounds.”

“Does that answer your question?” It didn't, but it was a noble attempt and Bernie was grateful to him.

The nurse wheeled her to the lobby and Liz left with her arm tucked in Bernie's. But she was walking more slowly now, and he noticed that she winced when she got into the car.

“Is the pain very bad, baby?” She hesitated and then nodded. She could barely speak. “Do you think your Lamaze breathing would help?” It was a stroke of genius and they tried it on the way home, and she said it gave her some relief. And she had the pills with her that the doctor had prescribed for her.

“I don't want to take them till I have to. Maybe at night.”

“Don't be a hero.”

“You're the hero, Mr. Fine.” She leaned over and kissed him gently.

“I love you, Liz.”

“You're the best man in the world …I'm sorry to put you through all this …” It was so hard on everyone, and she knew it. It was hard on her, too, and she hated it, but she also hated it for them, and once in a while, she even hated them because they weren't dying.

He drove her home and helped her up the steps, and when they arrived, Jane and his mother were waiting. Jane was looking worried because it was so late and they weren't home yet, but the bone scan and the X rays had taken a long time. And it was four o'clock by the time they got home, and Jane was haranguing Bernie's mother.

“She always comes home in the morning, Grandma. Something's wrong, I know it.” She made Ruth call, but by then Liz was on her way home, and Ruth looked at Jane knowingly as the front door opened.

“See!” But what she saw and Jane didn't was that Liz looked much weaker than she had before and she seemed to be in pain although she didn't admit it.

But she refused to cut down her teaching. She was determined to finish the year, no matter what, and Bernie didn't argue with her about it, although Ruth told him he was crazy when she dropped in on him at the store on her last day in San Francisco.

“She doesn't have the strength. Can't you see that?”

He shouted back at her in his office. “Dammit, Mom, the doctor said it wouldn't hurt her.”

“It'll kill her!”

And then suddenly the rage he felt spent itself on his mother.

“No, it won't! The cancer is going to kill her! That's what's going to kill her, that goddamn rotten disease that's rotting her whole body …that's what's going to kill her and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if she sits home and waits or goes to school or has chemotherapy or doesn't or goes to Lourdes, it's still going to kill her.” The tears rushed into his throat like a bursting dam and he turned away from his mother and paced the room. He stood with his back to her finally, looking blindly out the window. “I'm sorry.” It was the voice of a broken man, and it tore his mother's heart out to hear him. She walked slowly to where he stood and put her hands on his shoulders.

“I'm sorry …I'm so sorry, sweetheart…this shouldn't happen to anyone, and not to people you love, especially….”

“It shouldn't even happen to people you hate.” There was no one he would have visited this on. No one. He turned slowly to face her. “I keep thinking of what's going to happen to Jane and the baby…. What are we going to do without her?” The tears filled his eyes again. He felt as though he had been crying for months and he had. It was six months since they'd found out, six months as they slid into the abyss, praying for something to stop them.

“Do you want me to stay out here for a while? I can. Your father would understand perfectly. In fact, he suggested it to me last night when I called him. Or I can take the children home with me, but I don't think that would be fair to them or Liz.” She had grown to be such a decent, sensible woman, it amazed him. Gone was the woman who had given him bulletins on Mrs. Finklestein's gallstones all his life, the woman who had threatened to have a heart attack every time he dated a girl who wasn't Jewish. He smiled, thinking back to the night at Cote Basque when he had told her he was marrying a Catholic named Elizabeth O'Reilly.

“Remember that, Mom?” They both smiled. It had been two and a half years before, and it felt like a lifetime.

“I do. I keep hoping you'll forget it.” But the memory only made him smile now. “What about my staying out here to give you kids a hand?” He was thirty-seven years old and he didn't feel like a kid. He felt a hundred.

“I appreciate the offer, Mom, but I think it's important to Liz to maintain things as normally as she can. We're going to move to the beach as soon as school lets out, and I'll commute. In fact, I'm taking six weeks off till the middle of July, and I'll take more if I have to. Paul Berman has been very understanding.”

“All right.” She nodded sensibly. “But if you want me, I'll be on the next plane. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted, and then gave her a hug. “Now go do some shopping. And if you have time, maybe you could pick something nice out for Liz. She's down to preteen sizes now.” There was nothing left of her. She weighed eighty-five pounds, from a hundred and twenty. “But she'd love something new. She doesn't have the energy to shop for herself now.” Or for Jane, but he brought home boxes and boxes of clothes for the children. The manager of the department had a major crush on Jane and hadn't stopped sending Alexander presents since before he was born. And right now Bernie appreciated the attention they were getting. He was so distracted himself that he felt as though he weren't doing either of them justice. He felt as though he had barely looked at the baby since he was six months old, and he snapped at Jane constantly, only because she was there, and he loved her, and they both felt so helpless. It was a hard time for everyone, and Bernie was sorry they hadn't gone to a shrink, as Tracy had suggested. Liz had rejected the idea out of hand, and now he was sorry.

The worst moment of all came the next day when Ruth left for the airport. She stopped at the house first, in the morning before Liz left for school. Tracy picked Jane up every day now, and Bernie had already left for work. But Liz was waiting for the sitter so she could leave for school, and Alexander was down for his morning nap. Liz went to the door, and for a moment the two women stood in the doorway knowing why she had come. There was no pretense as their eyes met, and then Liz reached out and hugged her.

“Thank you for coming. …”

“I wanted to say goodbye to you. I'll be praying for you, Liz.”

“Thank you.” She couldn't say more as the tears filled her eyes and she looked at Ruth. “Take care of them for me, Grandma …” It was only a whisper …“And take care of Bernie.”

“I promise. Take care of yourself. Do everything they tell you.” She squeezed the frail shoulders and noticed suddenly that Liz was wearing the dress she had bought her the day before. “We love you, Liz …very, very much….”

“I love you too.” She held her for one more minute and then turned to leave, with a last wave, as Liz stood in the doorway, watching the cab pull away. Ruth waved for as long as she could see her.





Chapter 21

Liz managed to hang onto her classes until the end of school. Bernie and the doctor were amazed that she could do it. She had to take the Demerol every afternoon now and Jane complained that she slept all the time, but she didn't know how to voice the complaints that she really felt. The real complaint was that her mother was dying.

The last day of school was June ninth, and Liz went in one of the new dresses Ruth had bought her before she left. She talked to them all the time on the phone, and Ruth told her funny stories about the people in Scarsdale.