all the horror of what she had seen in the mirror.
“Don't make it such a big deal. He told you, you can have it rebuilt eventually.”
“Sure, if I want to go through another very painful operation and a bunch of skin grafts and tattoos, and silicone implants, which are dangerous. This is not exactly the tea party you make it out to be.”
“Fine. But don't be such a crybaby for God's sake. Losing a breast is not the worst thing that could happen.”
“What is?”
“Dying,” he said bluntly.
“Give me time, I might do that too. But in the meantime, I seem to have misplaced a few things I was rather fond of. One of them is my left breast, and the other one is my husband. You seem to have gone right out the window with my tit, or hadn't you noticed? Because I have. I'm sick and tired of your disappearing act, of your acting like I don't exist, because you can't cope with what happened.”
“That's not true,” he said angrily, all the more so because it was and he knew it.
“The hell it isn't. You haven't been here for me once since I got the news, and ever since the surgery, you've been treating me like your maiden aunt and not your wife. How long is that going to go on, Sam? How long do I have to do penance for the sin of losing a boob? Until I get it reconstructed so I don't scare you to death when I take my clothes off, or are we shot for good? It might be helpful to know so I don't hang around annoying you, or make you sick sometime when I take a shower.”
“You make me sick with your analysis and accusations. You couldn't make me half as sick if they took both your breasts off.”
“Really? Wanna make a bet? You have no idea how ugly this is. It's a lot worse than you think.”
“It's as bad as you make it. You're the one turning this into an agony. You're the one who can't accept what happened.”
“Are you sure?” She was suddenly unable to control herself a moment longer, and as she stood in front of him she unbuttoned her nightgown. He felt his heart pound as he watched her, but it was too late to stop her, and he knew he had goaded her into it. She slipped it brusquely off one shoulder and then the other, and then she let it drop to the floor without a sound, except a gasp from him. She hadn't bothered to replace the dressing, and he saw everything she had seen that morning. The angry scar, the missing breast, the bright pink flesh. Just as she knew, it was shocking, and his face showed how he felt about it. There was no way on earth he would have touched her. “Pretty, isn't it, Sam?” She was crying now, and gulping air as she sobbed, but he didn't come near her.
“I'm sorry, Alex.” He walked across the room to her then, and held her nightgown out to her. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, and pulled her into his arms, as they both cried. It was just too awful.
“I can't live with this, Sam,” she cried, wanting her breast back, wanting her life to be what it had been only a few weeks before. It was impossible to understand why any of this had happened.
“It'll be okay …you'll get used to it. We both will,” he said softly, praying it was true.
“Will we?” she asked sadly. “Do you want me to get it fixed?”
“It's too soon anyway, why don't you see how you feel about it later.”
“I hate it, and I hate myself,” she admitted as she slipped on her nightgown, and he helped her when she got it tangled. He wanted to help her cover it up as soon as possible, so neither of them had to see it. “I'm sorry I'm angry at you all the time. I just don't know how to handle it.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “I guess we just have to give it time.”
“Yeah,” she said sadly, looking at him, unable to believe he would ever resume their sex life. “Maybe.”
“You'll feel better when you go back to work next week,” he said encouragingly as he turned the TV on, anything so they didn't have to talk to each other.
“Maybe I will,” she said, unconvinced, but she would much rather have had her husband than her job