night, Dean guided my hand to the spot, and it was there. A hard, small lump, not much bigger than the size of a marble, just beneath the surface of my skin.
Of course it’s nothing. I’m thirty-six years old. I’ve had two children. Maybe it’s hormonal, or a change in the breast tissue. Or, like I told Dean, a cyst. Cysts are so common. At worst, it might be some sort of infection, though that would certainly require a trip to the doctor…
I feel Dean coming up behind me, the air growing warmer the closer he gets. Though I steel my spine, the weight of his hands on my shoulders is like a key turning in the lock of my defenses.
I swallow hard and concentrate on spreading the jam evenly over the bread.
“Liv, please.” His voice roughens. “Make an appointment. I know it’s probably nothing, but you’ve never had anything like that in your breast before, and you need to have the doctor take a look at it.”
I know he’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but of course he’s right.
I put my hand unconsciously over my left breast. It hasn’t hurt at all…or has it? I’ve been aware of some soreness there, but not once did I think to examine it further.
“Does it hurt?” Dean asks.
I shake my head. “There was…I’ve had some discomfort over the past couple of weeks, but I figured I just needed new bras or something.”
“You noticed something was wrong?”
“No.” I pull away from him and grab a sandwich bag. “Nothing is wrong. I noticed some irritation, that’s all. It’s probably related to my period.”
“And you need to talk to the doctor about it.” He steps closer to me, his mouth tightening. “One of us is making an appointment. Is it going to be you or me?”
I put the peanut-butter sandwich inside the bag and place it in Nicholas’s lunchbox before picking up my coffee and joining our son at the table. He’s still studying the cereal box, which makes me hope he wasn’t listening to our conversation.
Dean and I are quite careful about what we discuss in front of the children. The fact that we ignored Nicholas’s presence in the sunroom is a measure of how much a lump in my breast has unnerved us.
“So what does it say about penguins?” I ask, nodding to the cereal box.
“Look at this one.” Nicholas points to a penguin with a shock of yellow hair sticking straight up from his head. “What kind is it?”
“That’s a macaroni penguin,” I reply. “He must be like Yankee Doodle. Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni.”
“Oh, hey, can we go see that new penguin movie this weekend?” Nicholas asks, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“We’ll see,” I reply, in the classic parental non-response.
A faint rustling noise comes from the baby monitor, which we still use to be able to hear the kids if they call us from their bedrooms. Dean goes upstairs to get Bella, while Nicholas and I finish breakfast.
“Hi.” Bella wanders into the kitchen ahead of Dean, rubbing one eye and clutching her beloved stuffed owl Hoot.
I hold out my arms. She comes to hug me, her warm body pressing against mine, her messy hair tickling my face. She smells like strawberries and shampoo.
“Sleep well?” I ask.
She nods, yawning. Nicholas is always ready to eat breakfast as soon as he wakes up, but Bella likes to curl up on the sofa first and look at picture books. I get her settled with a blanket and a set of books about Max and Ruby. Leaving Dean to finish the morning breakfast routine, I go upstairs to shower and dress.
I turn the water on hotter than I usually do. The act of taking off my robe and nightgown is no longer automatic, as I’m acutely conscious of my naked breasts. My left breast, which looks like it always has, despite the presence of something unknown.
Lump. It’s a horrible word, indicating spoilage and wrongness. Curdled milk, mold, rusted metal, bad mashed potatoes. Lumps are an indicator of ruin.
I try to avoid touching it as I shower and dress, but I can still feel it, burning beneath my skin.
Nothing, I tell myself repeatedly. It’s nothing. A cyst. At the very most dramatic, a fibroid tumor. Not…that.
I push aside the gnawing concern and finish getting ready for the day. I have to work at the café, volunteer in Nicholas’s classroom, take Bella to gymnastics, and make arrangements