The Girls from Ames (42 page)

“Well,” she says, “we’ve all cried this weekend.” Everyone starts to enumerate—at the table over there, at two in the morning last night, in the living room the first day, when Marilyn said the blessing before dinner . . .

And then Karen gives her answer. “I cried with Cathy, talking about when her mom died, and how much I regret that I didn’t make it in for the funeral,” she says. “We cried with Karla over Christie. I cried with Jane when she talked about her daughter’s bat mitzvah. I cried with Marilyn when she talked about her brother Billy, and the accident, and that letter she wrote.”

“So you didn’t cry that much this weekend,” Diana says, and everyone laughs.

“Could we count how many times we laughed this weekend?” someone asks.

Karla says she has laughed so hard that she’s uncomfortable. “I get tired of laughing so much when we’re together,” she says. “I know it’s time to go when my cheeks hurt.”

The cloth bag is handed over to Kelly, who picks out pebble 19: “You all think I’m _____ but really I’m _____.”

Kelly takes a breath while she thinks for a moment. Someone says maybe they should have gotten the pebbles in advance. They could have formulated answers.

“No,” Kelly says. “That would have felt like homework. I like doing it this way. Thinking on the spot.”

The backyard is silent except for the crackling fire, as Kelly formulates her answer in her head.

She repeats the phrase from pebble 19. “You all think I’m . . . but really I’m . . .” And then slowly, drawing out her words, she says, “You all think I’m only interested in sex . . .” The others laugh.

“Now you’re going to feel bad for laughing,” Kelly says, and starts again. “You all think I’m only interested in sex, but really . . . I’m interested in finding relationships as special as the ones all of you have.”

She pauses, then delivers the longest response of the evening. “Having watched Karla and Bruce and their incredible relationship, I am searching for something equally as meaningful in my life. I left a bad relationship because I saw how Karla had a really good relationship. And I wanted that, too. That’s the truth.

“I saw I had only a shadow of a loving, happy connection with my husband. Some people are content to live that way. I decided I was not, especially after seeing Karla’s marriage and family, and seeing what a healthy home life looked like. And every time we are together and Karla confirms that her marriage is a ten, I feel like I have validation to find something like that in my life. In fact, all of your marriages are really up there. Your relationships are strong. And I feel like I deserve that.”

“You do,” says Karla.

“You go, girl,” Diana says.

“And, Diana, I’ve seen you and Bob over the years. I’ve seen what he does for you. That’s another ten. I want that, too, in my life.” Kelly has gotten slightly tearful. Jenny reaches out and takes her hand, a kind and sisterly impulse that swells Kelly’s emotions even more.

“And I know you think I’m just crazy,” Kelly says, “and that I’m not finding the right guys and I’m just looking for fun. But really, I am looking for something as wonderful as what you all have. That’s all I want. Something that simple, that wonderful, that easy.”

“I hope you find it,” Karla says softly.

“I know I will,” Kelly says. “Part of me feels like I’m on my way there. I know it’s somewhat disturbing to watch me get there.” Everyone laughs. “And it’s a little bit frightening, because I have a lot of fun finding my way. But you guys have confirmed for me that I need to keep doing what I’m doing. I need to keep searching, looking, trying . . . and that I’ll get there. I will. Anyway, I thank all of you.”

Some of the other girls wipe away their own tears. And then a few take turns hugging Kelly. They stand by the fire for a few more minutes, then one by one head into the house to get ready for bed. In the morning, the reunion will be over, and everyone will need to head off for the airport.

I
t is before dawn on Monday morning, and the Ames girls rouse each other, dress pretty quickly, zip up their suitcases, and then gather in Angela’s large kitchen for their final cups of coffee together.

No one says they wish the reunion would last any longer. They’re not exactly talked out—there’s always more to say—but they’re all pretty ready to get back to their children, husbands and current lives.

As the sun rises, they take a final look at the tobacco field beyond Angela’s back porch, and then they pile their suitcases into a minivan and a car and head for the airport. Their conversations on the ride are slightly subdued. That’s how it gets sometimes at the end of their gatherings. Some of them find themselves lost in their thoughts.

At the security checkpoint, they share their final hugs. Everyone is turning this way and then the other way, embracing, clutching hands. Kelly, Karla, Sally and Marilyn will fly together to Minneapolis; Sally will drive south to Iowa from there. The others all head for their own gates: Diana to Arizona, Jenny to Maryland, Karen to Philly, Jane to Boston. Cathy will fly to Kansas City to see her dad. Angela will drive home and finish cleaning everything up.

Within hours of their return to their own homes, they are again trading emails. They profusely thank Angela for her hospitality, they recollect the highlights of the weekend, they speculate about who should host the next reunion. They also remind each other to keep everyone posted on all the unresolved issues they talked about over the past few days.

As is always the case after they get together, they find themselves contemplating the meaning of their bonds to each other. This reunion, they agree, is just another step on a journey of friendship that should take them until the end of their lives. “Someday, when we’re old women, we’ll be able to sit together and look back at these richly detailed lives,” Kelly writes. “Even the most common of us have had these journeys. In one way or another, we have every woman’s story.”

And those stories continue.

 

 

I
n September 2007, three months after the reunion, Kelly sent an email to all the other girls. “I just got off the phone with my health care provider, giving me test results,” she wrote. “Her last words to me were to surround myself with loved ones tonight. You are the first people I am telling. I have breast cancer. I will immediately go through more testing to determine what stage I am at. All I know at this moment is that it is lobular carcinoma. I have no history of breast cancer in my family. My daughter will never be able to say that.

“My hands are shaking. So is my heart.”

It was crushing news for the other girls. Karla immediately called Jane. “I had to make a cup of tea, sit down and process it all,” Karla told her. “I’m scared for her.”

The other women had similar feelings, but they responded as if they were soldiers on a joint mission. Marilyn promised to drive down and be with Kelly any time she needed a companion at an appointment. Karla offered to share all the medical knowledge she’d gathered during Christie’s illness, and reminded Kelly to get a flu shot and to have her kids do the same. Cathy told her there are great wigs out there “despite what you may have seen on Britney Spears. You can get a human hair wig for just a few hundred bucks, and they’ll cut it on you. I’d be happy to go shop for one and send you what I think would look good.”

Jenny wrote: “How I wish we lived closer, so that we could hug you with our arms rather than our words. And now I’m going to switch into work mode.” Thanks to her job at the medical school, Jenny had lots of advice to offer: “Go to a university medical center, because they see the most cases and are most up-to-date on treatments. If you do decide to use a community hospital, find out how many cases of lobular carcinoma they treat annually. If that number is low, you MUST go elsewhere for your treatment. You also will want someone to go with you to appointments, at least at the outset. Frequently, patients are so overwhelmed with emotion, and all the treatment plans and options, that it helps to have a family member or friend who can be there to take notes and help ask questions.”

This has been the way things have gone between the Ames girls as adults. Love. Support. Advice. Action. What’s the problem? What’s the solution?

Kelly told the other girls that their support “lifted my spirits to unimaginable heights.” She shared with them how her daughter, Liesl, broke into tears upon hearing the news, and slept with her that night.

“She made me promise never to go out without my wig if I experience hair loss. I threatened to go to all her events bald and wearing tank tops that would emphasize if I only have one boob.” Kelly kept her sense of humor, joking about the possibility of meeting “hot doctors” at her appointments.

Her tumor was about the size of a squished softball, and an MRI also indicated that the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. Her doctor suggested four or five months of chemo, followed by surgery. “I want chemo to shrink this thing and destroy any rogue cells that have broken away from the warm womb in my breast,” Kelly told the other girls. She had thought doctors would recommend immediate surgery. “I expected to have this 36DDD breast gone by next week, so I’m experiencing a weird sort of relief that I’ll be intact for a while—although that means hauling around this damn tumor. Stay tuned. . . .”

Kelly talked to her students, to brace them for her altered appearance. She and her students agreed that a wig might look silly on her, so she decided to wear hats. Surgery wouldn’t come for another six months, Kelly told her students, “so I’m celebrating my body in its current form while I can. I’m not angry or despondent about what is happening, at least not yet. I’m grateful for the time and the ability to fight this.”

The other Ames girls decided to send Kelly flowers on the days she’d be getting chemotherapy. On her first day of treatment, they sent roses. “The roses are extraordinary,” Kelly told them a few days later. “Unusually large creamy blossoms tinged with pink. They are slowly opening this week, and they just keep getting more beautiful. I truly feel surrounded by your love and concern.”

During her initial rounds of chemo, Kelly felt achy and light-headed, as if she had the flu. It was manageable, though she knew the effects would be cumulative. She vowed to try to just take everything day by day.

Kelly was mostly upbeat, but one day she confided to the girls that she had yelled at one of her sons and felt miserable about it. “Liesl was around to pick up the pieces, and she consoled me and just kept saying, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ ”

For her second round of chemo, the Ames girls sent Kelly a fall bouquet—yellow, white and deep red flowers. When her mother asked who had sent them, Kelly was too choked up to speak.

Her hair started coming out in handfuls, so she got a buzz cut. “I’m in good spirits, gals,” she wrote in an email, “although the hair situation is bothering me more than I expected. It will take guts to walk into class tomorrow with a new, butch look. I’m just hoping I don’t have a weird, lop-sided head. My right ear does stick out more. Oh well . . .”

By spring, chemo had reduced her mass to the size of a marshmallow. Still, she knew she’d eventually need surgery, and there was also a tiny spot on her lung that would need to be monitored.

For one of her last treatments, the other Ames girls sent spring flowers in a lovely basket. “Never doubt the power of phone messages, cards or emails when someone is going through a tough time,” Kelly wrote when saying thank you. “Even the briefest messages have reminded me that I am never alone. Some people find that sort of comfort in God; for me, my friends are ever-present.”

Kelly’s graphic design students were making posters as part of their course work, and so, partly to remind them that they can overcome their own adversities, Kelly had a color poster created with two photos of herself. The first photo had been taken at the reunion at Angela’s; smiling slightly, she is wearing a tank top, has all her hair, and looks terrific. In the second photo she is in a similar tank top, she has no hair, but her smile is broader. It’s a powerful image, striking and brave. The poster, titled “Soul Power,” included a quote from Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and philosopher: “If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.”

The other girls all weighed in on the poster. “You look beautiful!!!” wrote Karla, who also offered advice to Kelly to help her with muscle cramping caused by her treatments. “Christie had the same problem. I swear, I try to forget most of it, but the important stuff I should recall. Anyway, be sure to get a potassium supplement from your oncologist. It will make a difference.”

Kelly thanked everyone for their kind comments about her poster, but she wrote back to them: “I certainly don’t consider myself beautiful right now. I hate looking at my face in the morning; I look so naked until I put on eyeliner, pencil in eyebrows and add a little color to my cheeks. I try to focus on radiating confidence and positive energy. Maybe that actually is beauty. That is what I wanted to get out of the poster. When we got together at Angela’s, I was so concerned with how I looked. I felt like my skin had too many flaws, my teeth weren’t white enough, my stomach was too poochy, my hair wasn’t glamorous. Now, I look at the photos we took down there and I marvel at how beautiful my eyebrows and eyelashes were. I had two breasts at that time that I should have adored, instead of stuffing them into a high-powered Victoria’s Secret bra. I should have been thrilled I simply had healthy teeth and a mouth and throat without sores.”

She ended by telling the other girls: “Enjoy yourselves right now. Take a moment today to be grateful for all your body parts. Really celebrate your body and your health. So much can change in a few months.”

In April, an MRI showed that Kelly’s tumors were gone, but concern remained that cancer cells were still present. Her oncologist and surgeon both recommended a mastectomy, but Kelly talked them into removing only tissue that had been affected. It would be a two-step process that could preserve her breast.