Chapter 23

Sylvia sat on the cold examination table. She tugged at her gown, trying to cover her backside. She tried to get comfortable on the small table, but it was cold. She sighed and mumbled to herself.

After a few minutes, a nurse came into the room and said, "You can get dressed now Mrs.

Blass. Dr. Callan will meet you in his office."

"It's about time!" Sylvia huffed.

Sylvia walked into Dr. Callan's office. She was frightened but told herself to put on a stern face.

Dr. Callan was the oncologist her doctor had sent her to.

"He's the best oncologist in the state," he said.

He was a tall man with white hair. His glasses sat on the edge of his nose as he looked at the file in front of him. He stood up as she walked through the door. His skin was alabaster white, and his voice was calm and soothing.

He spoke slowly, using layman's terms to better help Sylvia understand the treatment. He continued to speak, but she didn't hear him. She could see his mouth moving, but instead of words, she heard a high-pitched noise. She would pick up words like "aggressive", "spreading", "pain", "treatments", "hair loss", and finally "death". She would nod her head from time to time, showing her understanding, but she didn't care anymore.

It was as if she was watching herself in the room speaking to Dr. Callan. She could see herself sitting and nodding.

"Mrs. Blass…Mrs. Blass…" Dr. Callan said.

She felt as if she'd just woke up. She managed to focus her eyes on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I said we can start chemo and radiation treatment immediately. The cancer is aggressive, but so is the treatment. We can start tomorrow. I can have the nurse make an appointment."

"What happens if I choose not to do the treatment?" she asked.

Dr. Callan looked at her with concern. "It's your right to choose not to do the treatment. Chemo has its pros and cons, but I recommend we start treatment."

"Will I die quicker without treatment?" she asked.

He looked up at her, paused for a moment, and said, "The cancer will run its course. It's difficult to predict how long you'd have without treatment."

Sylvia stood up, thanked him, and walked out of his office. He ran after her.

"Wait, we need to schedule the appointment!"

She continued walking down the hall to the elevator. She didn't turn around or look back.

By the time Sylvia arrived home, she was exhausted. She was greeted by the new maid, Tina.

She'd fired Shannon over the dispute with the cook.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Blass," Tina said as she stepped into the large white marble foyer. She handed her Tina her coat. "Hot tea, please, Tina," she said somberly. "I'll be upstairs."

She tossed her purse on the bed and sat down. She buried her hands in her face and began sobbing. The tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them away, then went into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection, turned on the water, and splashed it over her face. She then grabbed a small hand towel and gently dabbed her face.

Tina entered the room with her tea and set it down on a small table. Sylvia walked out of the bathroom.

"Thank you, Tina. Any calls or messages?"

"No, Mrs. Blass."

"You may go home, Tina. I will not need you tonight."

Tina nodded her head and left the room. Sylvia poured her tea and sat on the edge of the bed. She was alone. She felt alone. She set the teacup down and walked downstairs. She wandered through the house, going from room to room. She moved her hand across a large picture of her mother and father. They were standing in front of a large chapel. Her mother wore a long white wedding dress. The dress flowed behind her like a wave of clouds. She held a large bouquet of large red roses. Her father stood tall and regal next to his wife. He wore a black tuxedo with a red rose.

She picked up the picture and gently moved her hand over the silver picture frame. She put down the picture and continued to wander through the house. She made her way to her study. It was her favorite room. She admired the various pictures she'd purchased over the years.

The doorbell rang.

"Tina!" she shouted, forgetting she'd told her to go home.

She shouted for Tina again, then got up and walked to the door. She was surprised to see Sharon standing in front of her.

"Sharon," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Sharon cleared her throat. She held a black folder in her hands.

"I have information from the private investigator I hired. I thought we should talk here, not at the office. Can I come in?"

"Yes, come in." She gestured for Sharon to come in and closed the door behind her. "Let's go into the study." Sharon nodded and followed her. "There's no one here but us," Sylvia said. "You live in this huge house all by yourself?" Sharon asked.

Sylvia nodded her head and sat down. "So, what do you have for me?" she said.

Sharon handed her the folder and sat down. "It's all in here," she replied.

She watched Sylvia go through the pages in the folder. Sylvia read each page slowly. After she finished a page, she would lay it down on the table. She did this for several moments until she reached the last page, then she put all the papers carefully in the folder and laid it on the table.

"Thank you, Sharon. I appreciate you doing this for me. I know I haven't been the easiest person to work for. I know this."

Sharon cleared her throat. "Well, there's more that isn't in the folder." "Oh?" Sylvia said. "And what would that be?"

"I think I know where Lily is living. It's a long story, and I'm going there the day after tomorrow. I don't have a lot of information. It's really a hunch, coincidence maybe," said Sharon.

"I see. So, you're telling me you're playing a hunch and leaving in two days?" Sharon nodded. "I just wanted you to know I was leaving."

Sylvia sat silently for a moment, then said, "And if you find out this person is Lily?"

"I'll call you and let you decide what you want to do, Sylvia. I said I would help," Sharon said.

Sylvia nodded, then placed her hand on Sharon's hand and looked down. "I saw the oncologist today. I debating on whether or not I'll do the chemo/radiation treatments. I'm supposed to start tomorrow. I'm scared, Sharon. I realized today I have no friends. I have no one to help me. I'm alone." Sylvia felt her bottom lip quiver. Her eyes filled with tears that rolled down her face.

Sharon felt sorry for Sylvia. She looked around the room and spotted a box of Kleenex, then got up and gave the box to Sylvia. She watched her wipe her tears and face.

"Sylvia, why would you not do the treatments?"

"Over the years, I've hurt many people. It's funny when you're faced with your death, you begin to see things a little differently. I always thought I'd have people around me, taking care of me. But look around, Sharon, I'm here alone. No friends, no family, no one. People are here because I pay them to be here. I went and saw my lawyer about this trust business. My personal attorney is out, so I met his associate. She was a Black woman."

"Okay, what was wrong with that?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Nothing but my attitude. I told her that her kind of people are loud and lazy. I don't know why I said it. But she didn't let me get by with anything. She was direct and professional. I felt ashamed. I don't like what I see when I look in the mirror. I used to think I had it all, but I realize now that I don't. I've alienated people, treated them poorly because of how they look or speak. I never realized just how much hate I've carried inside. And now, when facing the end of my life, I can't even tell you why. My mother died with so much hate and anger. I don't want to do the same." She bowed her head, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

Sharon sat a moment, listening to her words. "It's never too late to make changes in your life, Sylvia."

"If this woman, Lily, is my half-sister, I'd like to meet her."

Sharon nodded her head and stood up. "I'd better get going. My husband is waiting for me." Sylvia looked up at her. "Yes, your husband. Sharon, I really don't know that much about you in all the years we've worked together."

"You never ask," Sharon said, then walked toward the study door. "I'll call you when I get some more information. Have a good night, Sylvia."

She walked out of the room and to the front door. Sylvia watched her leave. She wanted her to stay. She wished she had someone to talk to. A friend. She realized at that moment she needed to make changes before it was too late.

Stanley walked into his office, threw down his backpack on a large sofa, and sat down. He then pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"Charlie, Stanley. Hey man, how's it going? Great. Well, I want to put together a partnership with a homeless shelter. Yes, I need the team working on this. You bet. I'm here all day. Catch up with me on my cell. Right. Later."

He hung up the phone and walked over to his desk. He wasn't in his office often. Stacks of mail had been opened by his assistant, and he had several messages and a full cup of cold coffee. He picked up the cup and looked inside, frowned, and put it down. He was going through the messages on his desk when his assistant Tonya walked in.

"Stanley, so nice of you to come in today. I thought you'd be out saving the world," she joked.

"Well, I am kinda like a superhero," he said.

"I picked up the copies of Big World you asked for. They're under that stack of mail. Chloe called to say they've started the social media campaign for your fundraiser." He stopped her. "It's not my event, Tonya. I'm just helping," he said.

She looked at him. "Right," she said. "Your father called several times, and so has your mother."

He sighed. "My parents. You'd think they'd call me on my cell," he said. "They do, but you don't answer," she said. "Do you need anything else?" He thought for a moment. "What's your favorite flower, Tonya?"

"Well, I really like sunflowers, but if you're trying to impress a lady, then roses are always a good choice."

"Roses, of course. Please send two – no, three dozen white and yellow roses to Chloe's office." Tonya raised an eyebrow. "What should the card read?"

" Thank you for everything. Looking forward to having you as my guest at the open mic.'" He leaned back into his chair and smiled.

She frowned. "That doesn't sound very romantic." "She doesn't date clients."

"Smart girl," she commented, then left the office.

Stanley moved the pile of mail until he reached the copies of Big World. He then opened the paper and started to read.

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