Chapter 10 - THE SECOND OPINION
The second opinion was not worse.
It was better.
Not perfect.
Better.
The tumor had malignant potential but appeared confined to the removed tissue.
No clear evidence of spread.
Close surveillance.
Additional treatment depending on molecular testing.
Sophie stared at Dr. Morris.
“So I’m not done.”
“No.”
“But I’m not dying today.”
Dr. Morris smiled.
“None of us gets that guarantee.”
Sophie laughed.
I almost hugged the doctor.
I restrained myself.
Outside, Sophie leaned against the wall.
I waited.
Then she started crying.
People walked around us.
A cart squeaked past.
A phone rang somewhere.
Life refused to become cinematic for our big moment.
I liked that.
I stood beside her.
After a minute, she said, “I want french fries.”
“What?”
“Real ones.”
“You just had surgery.”
“I almost had cancer spread through my abdomen.”
“It was cancer.”
“Potentially.”
“You’re weaponizing pathology vocabulary.”
“Fries.”
I drove twenty minutes to the place she liked.
When I came back, she ate six.
Then fell asleep.
The next morning, discharge planning began.
Rachel offered her apartment.
Mom offered our old guest room.
I said nothing.
Sophie noticed.
“You’re not going to offer?”
“I was told not to fix.”
She smiled.
“Learning.”
“I’m slow.”
She looked at her hands.
“I want to go home.”
My chest tightened.
“The old house?”
She nodded.
“Just until I’m stronger.”
“Okay.”
“And you can stay in the guest room.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because the stairs are annoying.”
“That’s the reason?”
“No.”
She looked irritated with herself.
“Because I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Then she added quickly.
“This does not mean anything.”
“I know.”
It meant everything.
May you like
But I finally knew enough not to say that.
