terrible,” he said, sympathetic for the first time. He was gentler these days, she realized now. Falling in love had mellowed him. But she didn't find that as touching as she might have. “You've been through an awful lot.”
“With more to come,” she smiled. “Four and a half months exactly.”
“And then what?”
“Then I wait to see if I get a recurrence. Five years seems to be the magic number. Supposedly I had the right kind of tumor for the good odds, and the chemo is supposed to give me extra insurance. I guess you just go on with your life, and try not to think about it. The women I know who've survived for a long time claim that they don't think about it anymore except when they go in once a year for routine checkups. I'd like to be there now. This is still pretty scary.” It was the first real conversation they'd had in three months, and she was amazed he was willing to talk about it. Whoever the girl was, she had almost made him human. But Alex didn't feel grateful to her, only envious and sad, and angry.
“If you get a recurrence,” he tried to sound encouraging, “you just fight it again, I guess.”
“Not likely,” she said matter-of-factly, wishing she could take her wig off. It was very itchy. But she wouldn't have dared to let him see how she looked now. “Except for very rare cases, you don't survive recurrences. You die. That's why they're so aggressive the first time, about treatment.” He understood it better now, but he was shocked by what she had told him. He didn't think he'd heard it quite so bluntly before, or maybe he just hadn't listened. Seeing her now, after being with Daphne, tore at his heartstrings, but nothing else. For him, the rest was over. All he felt for her now was pity, and tenderness for the memories of better times.
“What are you doing while Annabelle's away?” he asked, trying to change the subject. It was getting a little heavy for him.
“Nothing. Sleep, rest, work. My social life is not exactly overactive these days. I only have so much energy. I use it on Annabelle and my cases.”
“Why don't you go away? It might do you good. Or can you do that?”
“I could. I get a two-week break from treatment every month, but I'd rather stay here.” She didn't want to go away with Brock, though he had invited her. In spite of their close working relationship, she hardly knew him. And she didn't want to go alone. There was no point. She was better off in her own apartment, her own bed, with her own things, close to her doctor, if she had a problem. She was very introverted these days, and very dependent on the familiar. There were too many frightening elements in her life now to make her open to new ones.
“I hate to think of you here alone,” he said guiltily. It was odd, now that Daphne was gone, he suddenly felt more responsible for Alex. It was like an illness, pulling him this way and that, and he didn't really like it. He was happy that he was taking Annabelle away the day after Christmas.
“I'll be fine. I really don't want to go anywhere. And I've got plenty at the office to keep me busy.”
“There's more to life than work,” he said with a smile, and she looked right at him in answer.
“Is there, Sam?”
He walked out of the kitchen then without giving her an answer. But he wondered if she had a sixth sense about Daphne, or if someone had told her. He doubted it. She was too involved with herself right now to even think there was someone else. She couldn't possibly suspect it.
All of Annabelle's presents were wrapped and hidden in a locked closet. They set them out under the tree shortly after nine, and then they retired to their own rooms, like strangers. She read for a little while, and she heard the phone ring at midnight. But she let him answer. She knew it wouldn't be for her. And she was right. It was Daphne, freshly arrived in London, and missing him already. It made him feel wonderful talking to her, and when he did, he realized again how much it depressed him to be around Alex. She wasn't exactly fun these days. She seemed to have given up on life, and everything about her seemed to