us together again without boyfriends and husbands and children, in a way we hadn’t been in more than twenty years.
While in the cab to the restaurant, as we all stared and giggled at the scantily dressed girls freezing their butts off hurrying to a Jay-Z concert, I had one of those strange passing sensations in which I felt removed from my body and observed this current scene of my life as if I were watching a play on a stage, speculating about whether my character would suffer some tragic ending in the play’s denouement. I wondered if one day, perhaps not so far away, my sisters would reunite again without me, and if they would remember that particular moment of laughter. And where would I be?
Cancer has made me hold these precious scenes of my life against my heart like they’re my very own children; that’s how much I cherish them. And while those scenes can make me feel a longing I’ve never known, they also make me feel an unparalleled joy and appreciation.
During dinner, Cousin N casually mentioned that she needed to meet one of her “reps” at Times Square at 10:30 the next morning. Cousin N is in advertising; she buys and plans media for a major motion picture studio, meaning she decides where to buy and how to use advertising space (e.g., TV and radio commercials, magazine ads, posters in subway stations, et cetera) for blockbusters and every other kind of movie this studio produces. She has become a big muckety-muck, overseeing large teams of young assistants who do her bidding. “No problem,” I said. “Whatever you need to do for your job.” Chemo was scheduled for 12:30, so we would have plenty of time.
The next morning, after Cousins N and C accompanied me to drop Mia off at school—my sister had left early for work—we made our way to Forty-seventh Street and Broadway and stood in front of the red steps that are just south of the famous TKTS booth, where tourists line up for hours to buy half-price tickets for Broadway shows. Times Square is normally a place I avoid like the plague, filled with tourists who walk too slowly and too many flashing lights; it’s a place that can overwhelm in seconds. But it was early on a Monday morning, so it was relatively sane, devoid of the usual mob and the oversize Elmo, Dora, and other characters clamoring for their photos to be taken in exchange for five bucks, and devoid of other crazies like the Naked Cowboy (who goes around even in the dead of winter with nothing on but cowboy boots, underwear, a cowboy hat, and a guitar). Cousin N was talking to Joel, her rep, a few feet away while I was engaged in a heated conversation with Cousin C about how she should make sure her children are appropriately exposed to their Chinese cultural heritage.
Suddenly, my best friend, S.J., showed up. What a coincidence! I went on and on to her about how really small New York City is despite being home to 8 million souls. Just then, I saw Josh walking toward me, and I was equally amazed to see him. “Oh my God!” I shouted. “Times Square really is the crossroads of the world!” And then I saw my sister approaching. Before I could open my mouth to demand to know what was going on, Cousin N told me to turn around. “Look!” she said.
Please note that when you tell a legally blind person—or at least this legally blind person—to look!, it engenders a certain panic. Add to that the Times Square environment, where there is an infinite number of things to look at and even more panic, and you fear you won’t see what everyone wants you to see. But even I couldn’t miss the giant screen featuring an enormous picture of me when I turned around.
There it was, along with, in letters as big as me: CONGRATS JULIE, ON YOUR LAST CHEMO SESSION TODAY! WE LOVE YOU! The picture was up for a long time, four minutes maybe. And then Cousin N announced, “But wait, there’s more!” More? I wasn’t sure I could handle more! Joel gave the thumbs-up to the invisible people looking down at us from somewhere above, and the picture disappeared and the live camera feed went on and there I was on the digital billboard with Josh by my side, along with Cousin N, Cousin C, Sister Lyna, S.J., and