terminal, he accepted it. You know, he was okay with it. Many people don’t know this, but lung cancer is one of the most fatal forms of cancer. It has a very poor prognosis and it is very hard to treat.” After a sharp intake of breath, I continue unsteadily, “He had stage three lung cancer and died within ten months of his diagnosis.”
“It must have been hard for you,” says Mika gently.
I twist my fingers together. “I was knocked down.”
My dad was everything to me; he was the raw earth beneath my feet. He was my north, my south, my east and my west; and when he passed, I found myself lost. My beloved compass could guide me no more.
The look Mika gives me is one of warmth and understanding, with no trace of pity whatsoever. Leveling my gaze with his, I smile at him with misty eyes. “When my dad found out that he only had months to live, he wanted us to have good, happy memories. With his insistence, we hopped into our RV and drove all across the country, to Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Grand Canyon, the Arches in Moab, all the Utah national parks, the Redwood forest, Yosemite, Sequoia. We camped, we had fun, we ate at all the best restaurants, and he caught me plenty more lizards.”
Mika’s eyes embrace mine with an unutterable tenderness.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Let’s start this time, for real.”
We go back to our normal routine. I edit. Mika reads. And in five minutes, I am done editing. This is getting to be pointless. Stealing a glance at Mika, I see that he’s totally engrossed in his book. Seeing no sense in ending our ‘tutoring’ session so soon, I reach for the Tribune and begin leafing through it.
Mika’s gaze snaps up in surprise. “I don’t see much of that anymore—people reading the papers.”
“What can I say? I’m an old fashioned sort of gal.”
“Wait!” he exclaims. “You read the Chicago Tribune?”
“Uh-huh. I have a subscription. Home delivered, seven days a week for only $2.75 per week. I also subscribe to the Idaho State Journal. Gotta support the local papers too, you know.”
“But why? When you can read the news online for free.”
I leaf briskly to the next page. “Online news sites leave out so many good stories. Stories they deem un-newsworthy.” I pull out the travel section. “But newspapers always give me a little bit of everything; stories about my backyard, my town, my community. Oh and I love the comic strips; plus there’s just something about the feel of the pages on my fingertips…the smell of fresh ink in the morning.”
Kars hollers from the sofa, “I haven’t read a newspaper in ten years! I just take out the coupons and give them to my mom.”
Mika darts me a playful look. “I know. Newspapers and Bruce Springsteen? I think somebody is stuck in the past.”
I am about to broach the subject on Springsteen, that while I may admire his no frills, no pretense approach to his music, I am simply not a fan. His music, more specifically his voice, just does not do anything for me. He sounds like a severely constipated heavy smoker.
But I get sidetracked when Karsynn taunts, “And Maddy also loves to wear grand-maww clothes.”
“Vintage!” I cry defiantly. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of the term oldies but goodies?” I huff with annoyance.
Unperturbed, Karsynn and Mika carry on discussing me as if I were an inanimate object. After enduring several more minutes of their relentless teasing, Karsynn goes back to the telly, Mika goes back to his book, and I go back to my newspaper.
And in the background, I hear Rafael Nadal grunting his way through what I am sure is an epic match.
Fifteen
New hires, aka newbies or spring chickens, are forced to work the holidays in this call center. Everything here goes by seniority and since I was hired in October, I am basically at the bottom of the cesspool. Which sucks, because I had to work on Thanksgiving and today, I am forced to work on Christmas! The day our Savior was born. It’s blasphemous, sacrilegious, heinous and atrocious.
But then again, what am I griping about? I’m not even religious. I’d say I’m more spiritual than religious, and when I say that, people often ask me, “Well what the hell does that mean?”
To me it means that while I believe in God, I don’t necessarily subscribe to any religious doctrines or to organized religion. But I