Autumn Gold: A Rendezvous with Cancer, Knowing Death Is Not Final

C H A P T E R 1

A few years earlier Vashti, an energetic, upbeat, twenty-six-year-old assistant district attorney in a busy DA’s office in Albuquerque, New Mexico, was arguing cases every day in court with expertise admired by judges. However, as she wasmore than occasionally tardy, she was admonished by them as well.

One day at the office, as she scrambled to stuff papers into her briefcase, she realized that even if she ran she would probably be late for court again. Opening the door, she saw her secretary, Cathy, looking perturbed, holding files she needed in court that morning. She dropped her briefcase, hugged Cathy, and said, “What would I do without you? I love you even if I drive you crazy because I’m always late. You know they give us too many cases to handle sanely. Sometimes I want to tell the district attorney how overworked the assistant DAs are, but I’d just be told to buck up.” Vashti then grabbed the files and ran down the hall toward the front door, muttering under her breath, “Another day in paradise just living the dream.”

Cathy smiled slightly as she watched Vashti disappear through the doorway. Cathy had worked at the district attorney’s office for several years, but Vashti was new to its Community Crimes Division. She had worked her way upfrom being a prosecutor in Metropolitan Court in downtown Albuquerque, handling misdemeanors, to a prosecutor in District Court, focusing on felonies. Cathy remembered the day the supervisor of the Community Crimes Division, David Chambers, had announced that they would be getting a new attorney from Metro Court. The Metro Court evaluation of Vashti had been glowing, saying she was intelligent, quick on her feet, a team player, and had a positive attitude that led to success in her work. Later they found out that even defense attorneys had good things to say about her because they felt she was always fair to their clients. When David had asked for volunteers to be Vashti’s secretary, Cathy had raised her hand. Cathy’s life had been a whirlwind ever since.

When she had first met Vashti, she was surprised at how short she was, given her reputation for effectiveness as a prosecutor in court. But Cathy had soon discovered that Vashti camouflaged her short stature by wearing the highest heels. She had big hair made up of beautiful curls in several shades of brown, which accentuated her flashing brown eyes and radiant, youthful face. Cathy thought she looked sixteen instead of twenty-six.

Vashti had injected new, uplifting energy into the Community Crimes Division. Now laughter could be heard every day in the hallways, and more pranks than ever before were pulled on people working there. Cathy re-called how Vashti had once given a young attorney in the office, who had continually boasted about his legal victories and sexual prowess, an attitude adjustment. That day he had left for court to try a big case, telling everyone that he expected a victory celebration when he returned. Before his return, Vashti had strategically placed a stink bomb purchased at a gag gift store just inside his door so that he would have an odiferous surprise when he entered. A few minutes later she had overheard him ask a group of young attorneys to come into his office so he could tell them his most exciting victory story to date. Then she had heard groans of disgust and fleeing footsteps. Of course, Vashti had realized that when he discovered the identity of the prankster she would get payback, but she had confided in Cathy that it would be worth it. Part of the fun of working in the DA’s office was interacting with young attorneys who enjoyed good times together, along with acquiring ample court experience.

As Vashti entered Judge Sanchez’s courtroom, she glanced at her watch and saw that she was five minutes late again. “Your Honor, you know that I drive a very old vehicle,” she remarked in an effort to excuse her tardiness.

Judge Sanchez slowly looked up from the bench and replied, “Don’t bother telling me, Ms. Warner.”

Vashti quickly took her place at the podium and declared, “I’m ready to start arraignments, and I promise you we will get out of here on time.” Judge Sanchez gave Vashti a stern look, but after several seconds she noticed a slight smile on his lipsbefore he stated, “The prosecutor may proceed.”

Vashti flashed him her usual smile. Judge Sanchez was her favorite judge in District Court. Despite his reprimands for her tardiness, he was fair and reasonable, and appreciated her professional style and expertise.

The arraignments went smoothly, and Vashti finished on time, as promised. After court, Vashti returned to her office and, as she did every day, called her mother, June, who was also a lawyer. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“What does any attorney do in the Civil Division of the attorney general’s office? I’m giving an agency advice that they don’t want to hear, about things they want to do but legally can’t. Vashti, remember you promised you would come for dinner tonight? We will eat around six o’clock, and we’re having your favorite pork chops.”

“I’ll be there,” Vashti responded. “There is a case I want to talk to you and Dad about, and I always look forward to your awesome pork chops. I may be a few minutes late, though,” Vashti added, “because I’m planning a bridal shower and have to stop at a couple places after work to make some arrangements.”

“This must be the hundredth shower you’ve planned for friends over the years,” June commented. “Many weddingshowers and baby showers, but none of them for you.”

Vashti laughed and replied, “Mom, don’t go there. It will only depress you. See you tonight.”

After hanging up the phone, Vashti thought about her close relationship with her parents, wondering if it was because she was an only child and they were both talented lawyers in their own areas of law. Since they made a good living, life had gone well for her growing up. They had spoiled her in some ways, but not overly so. She remembered asking them to buy her a BMW when she was in high school because other kids had them, and seeing her mom give her an incredulous look and say, “Why would we ever do such a thing? Even if we can afford it, buying those kinds of gifts for kids is crazy. Where would it end? Next you would probably ask for your own house. And why would you ever get a job after finishing your education when you have nothing to work for?”

Instead, her parents had helped her buy a used Land Rover a few years ago, but she had paid for all repairs. Now she was proud to have gotten it running perfectly and knew she would never have had any such feelings of accomplishment if her parents had bought her a new BMW and handed her the keys. As she thought more about it now, she didn’t even like BMWs or care for a lot of the people who drove them. She knew that if her parents had bought her things like expensive cars she would not be the person she was today, a public servant practicing law in a district attorney’s office for a meager salary.

After she had graduated from college with a degree in English, her parents had encouraged her to pursue a graduate degree in English so she could teach it at the university level and write poetry, believing she was a talented poet and such a path would align with her aspirations. Ultimately, however, she had decided to go to law school no matter how her parents felt. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have time to write poetry; summers free to travel the world, even though she had seen much of it already on family trips; and be able to do volunteer work for causes about which she felt passionate.

She recalled how her parents, rather than initially supporting that decision, had insisted she fill out the law school application on her own, which had made her think deeply about her self-image as a biracial woman and question society’s perception of ethnicity.

“What do I put down for race?” Vashti had asked her parents while completing the application.

“How does the question read?” her father had responded over the history book he was reading.

“Circle the one that most closely identifies your race—white, black, Indian, Asian,” Vashti had replied, handing her mom the page.

After reading it, June had said, “This won’t be easy given your family background. You are white and black and Indian and Asian, but predominately white and black. I’m white; my grandmother was a Canadian First Nation Indian; your biological father was half black; and his mother was part Chinese. None of these choices really fits you. There should be some way to indicate your mixed-race identity, reflective, as it is, of an unusual and interesting heritage.”

Vashti had thought about it for a couple minutes then marked all four choices, determined to give the most honest answer and, at the same time, make officials aware that they had not provided an option for people who, like her, were of mixed race and proud of their diverse ancestry. In fact, Vashti was not only proud of her multiracial background but certain that it had helped her feel empathy for the people of many backgrounds that she encountered.

Today Vashti felt confident that pursuing a legal career was the best decision she could have made. She loved practicing law and the fact that being in this line of work had a positive impact on society, often helping the disadvantaged of various races, a realization that made even the ugliest cases bearable.

As these thoughts faded, Vashti returned to preparing for a trial to begin the next morning. When she had first started working at the DA’s office, trials had made her nervous. No matter how long she prepared, she worried about questions coming up that she would not be able to answer. But with a few trials behind her she realized that good preparation was more than enough to competently litigate, and she began enjoying it.

There was a loud knock on the door. “Brittney!” Vashti exclaimed as she opened it and gave her friend a big hug. “What are you doing in town, girl?”

Brittney’s eyes flashed deviously as she replied, “I needed a break from work, hubby, and all of Las Vegas, so I came home to play.”

Brittney, having grown up in Albuquerque, had been good friends with Vashti for years. Vashti had encouraged her to try anything once and never give up playing, because in Vashti’s view play was as important as work. As a result, some of Brittney’s best times were with Vashti. Both gifted athletes, they had participated together in many sports, including a women’s rugby team called The Atomic Sisters. The minor injuries they had sustained during games had been insignificant compared with the passion and mayhem of the sport they both loved. After the rugby games, they had enjoyed the wildest parties imaginable when the men’s and women’s rugby teams got together. Now that she was a few years older Brittney knew she could no longer dance and drink until dawn, stumble home, then get ready for a day of work. Still, she lived in accordance with Vashti’s insistence on play.

After graduating from college, Brittney had moved to Las Vegas, found work as a photographer, and married a handsome man. Although she missed her hometown and Vashti, she didn’t often get the chance to come back as being grown up took more time than she’d ever imagined. It was no wonder adults got grumpier as they aged since they often stopped playing, she thought.

“Want to take our boards and skate downtown for old times’ sake? Then we could hit a few clubs,” Brittney asked enticingly, with a gleam in her eyes. “That sounds positively liberating, but tonight I have dinner plans with my parents and then I must prepare a case for court tomorrow. How about tomorrow night? It’ll be Saturday, so the clubs should be fun. You’re staying until Sunday, right?”

“I have to catch a plane early Sunday morning so I can have brunch with hubby and his parents. Then I have to get ready for a shoot on Monday.”

“Sit down for a minute so we can catch up. Anything new and exciting going on in your life?” Vashti asked.

“We are thinking about starting a family,” Brittney said with a mixture of joy and fear in her voice. “I want to have kids, but I had planned to wait until I was thirty. Since my husband is older than me, he is ready to start a family. I guess I am, too. But it is a huge decision, leading to so much responsibility.”

“The hugest,” Vashti replied. “This calls for a celebration! I’ll take you out for an exquisite dinner tomorrow night, followed by skating, dancing, and drinking.”

“Deal,” Brittney responded, smiling and endorsing Vashti’s plan. Her friend never failed to make her feel good while facing difficult decisions. And they always had a wonderful time together when they went out.

Brittney then asked, “What about you? Any interesting new men in your life? Please tell me there are and that you have forgotten about Jeff.” “Many guys ask me out, and sometimes I go. I have fun, but it never gets serious. I think I have been single and independent too long. I like my life the way it is,” Vashti asserted.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Brittney responded as she got up and opened the door. “You haven’t forgotten Jeff. He is married now. Moved on with his life. You have to get over him and find another man you can seriously love.”

Vashti pushed Brittney out the door, saying, “I’ll call you tomorrow and set up our play date. Love you.”

Vashti’s thoughts turned to Jeff, aware that Brittney’s words had touched a nerve. She had met Jeff in college. He had been stationed at Kirkland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, and they had fallen in love almost instantly. They were the same age. In fact, their births had occurred just a few hours apart. Several years earlier her mom asked an astrologer to do their charts, and the results reflected contrasting extremes, indicating that they would either share a beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime love or clash like titans to the end.

Jeff was very much like Vashti. They were both athletic and active. Her passion was running, and his was lifting weights. One of the first things she’d observed when they met—after noticing his handsome face, radiant smile, and expressive eyes—was how well-proportioned and muscular his body was. She had a small body but strong as well, capable of great endurance from her years of running competitively. As a couple, they’d had great times. They liked all kinds of sports and games, traveling, camping, dining at marvelous restaurants, and partying with friends, yet were also happy staying home and cuddling as they watched movies. Though Vashti had always had lots of friends with whom she was comfortable talking about many things, with Jeff it was different. They talked for hours, and she was able to tell him everything about her life, including her dreams, goals, and aspirations, as well her faults, mistakes, and failures. Talking about sex had never been easier. Making love had never been better. She had to confess that she still remembered every little detail about him—how he smelled, laughed, kissed, and made love.

Looking at her watch, Vashti realized she had to stop thinking about Jeff and run a few errands before dinner with her parents. She might be a little late, but her parents would understand since she was always late. In fact, arriving on time might throw them into shock since they were getting up there in age, she thought, amused at how she rationalized her tardiness.

After locking her office door, she noticed her boss, David Chambers, whom she affectionately called D-Chappy, standing in his doorway, just beside hers. She knew that most people would detest having an office next to their boss’s, but she really liked him. She was grateful that he had helped her navigate the waters when she first started working at the DA’s office, and because of their mutual love of Jameson whiskey, she enjoyed having an occasional drink with him to decompress afterwork.

“Want to have a shot before you head out?” he asked.

“Would love to, but this evening I’m off to plan a shower for a friend and then have dinner with my parents,” Vashti explained.

As he watched her disappear down the hallway at the speed of light, he shook his head, thinking that her upbeat energy, playfulness, and willingness to help others made her irresistible.

C H A P T E R 2

“Okay, I want to talk to you guys about this case that bothers me,” Vashti announced after raving about June’s pork chops at dinner. In this household, the conversation was almost always about law. The debates Vashti and her parents often engaged in were monumental, convincing Vashti that her upbringing had honed her litigation skills.

“Nothing too gruesome at the dinner table, I hope,” her dad, Conor, said softly. Conor’s mother had forced him to read books on manners when he was growing up, stating that certain topics were off limits when people were eating, like gory medical issues, religion, and politics.

Vashti responded, “Not gruesome, but troubling. There was a group of five young men downtown one night just hanging out. They came up with the idea of looking for a homeless man to hassle, and in this town they’re easy to find.Their victim was a middle-aged man sleeping in an alley. When they started trying to wake him up, he got angry, and a fight ensued. They ended up beating him to death, and now they’re being charged with murder. Each was over twenty-one and looked like a hardened criminal except one, who was a few months shy of the age of majority.”

Her father commented, “No problem for a prosecutor. He should be tried as an adult.”

“Normally I would agree, but this kid has no criminal record and a beautiful, cherubic face that makes him look like a teenager. God only knows what he was doing with those punks that night,” Vashti stated.

“But he took part in beating a helpless man to death,” Conor reminded her. “Yes,” Vashti said as she stared out the window lost inthought. “It was horrible, Dad, but what lies ahead for this angelic-looking young man is horrible, too, if he is sentenced to an adult men’s prison. He might have a chance to get his life on track after this terrible experience, but it won’t happen in an adult prison.”

“Still,” June interjected, “they killed a vulnerable, innocent man. I don’t know what happens in prisons, and I’m sure it isn’t good, but the young man helped commit a murder.”

“Mom, prison isn’t good at all, especially for this kid.”

“What options are there for someone so close to the age of majority who has participated in such a heinous crime?” June inquired.

“I don’t know, but I can’t stop thinking about this kid,” Vashti replied in a troubled voice as she walked to the back door to leave. She had always had, as June well knew, a natural empathy for people who were struggling in life. While opening the door, she muttered under her breath, “Knowing what I know, if I were his sister, I would tell him to end it all if he gets sentenced as an adult since death would be merciful compared to what he would face in there.”

“I heard that, Vashti,” June said quickly, ready to challenge her about such an extreme view, even if it did show that Vashti’s heart was in the right place. But Vashti had already disappeared.

The next evening Brittney and Vashti enjoyed a delicious dinner downtown at one of their favorite restaurants and then skated leisurely among the people shopping in the little eclectic shops by the university.

“I haven’t been on a skateboard in more than a year,” Brittney shouted over her shoulder. “It feels wonderful!”

“Remember how we used to go to the parking garage in the tallest building in town and skate down the ramp going a hundred miles an hour?” Vashti asked.

“Yes, and I remember that you were the only girl I knew who could make it to the bottom,” Brittney said in a disgusted voice.

“I can still make it to the bottom, and sometimes on nights when I can’t sleep I take my board and sail down the ramp in the wee hours of the morning. It clears my head, and I go home and sleep like a baby,” Vashti confessed. “Hey, you want to check it out?”

“Sure, let’s see if you can still get to the bottom, old lady,” Brittney challenged, laughing.

They went to the parking garage a couple blocks away and took the elevator to the top.

“Who’s going first?” Vashti asked, teasing Brittney.

“I’m going first because I’m the guest here,” said Brittney as she sped off. Vashti listened to the sound of Brittney’s board gaining speed, hoping she would make it to the bottom. Then Vashti jumped on her board and started down. She always made it to the bottom, so while it was no longer challenging it was still fun. She passed Brittney about three quarters of the way down the ramp and gave her the high sign.

Watching her fly by, Brittney shouted, “You go, girl!” Then Brittney heard a terrible scream. Concerned, she ran toward the sickening sound. When she rounded the corner, there was a man standing over Vashti as she lay crumpled on the groundcrying in pain.

The man explained, “I was working late. I opened the door to the parking garage, and there she was coming right toward me like a bat out of hell. She swerved sharply to avoid hitting me and crashed.”

Brittney bent down and asked her friend, “Are you okay?”

Vashti attempted a smile and clumsily pulled the right leg of her jeans up to reveal a knee already the size of a grapefruit. “Take me to the ER,” Vashti requested, weakly.

The frazzled man immediately said, “I’m so sorry. Can I help in any way?” Vashti quickly replied, “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Brittney implored him to stay with Vashti until she got her car. In minutes she returned with the car and, with the man’s help, lifted Vashti into the back seat.

As Brittney drove toward the hospital, to give Vashti some comic relief she teasingly said, “At least you weren’t skating topless.”

“Shut up,” Vashti replied. “It hurts even more when I laugh.” She knew Brittney was referring to the hot summer night when the two of them had been out dancing then had come up with the idea to skate the neighborhood at 3:00 a.m. topless to cool down, a crazy but fun experience, Vashti thought.

When Brittney sped into the hospital’s driveway, the ER staff rushed outside with a cart and wheeled Vashti to X-ray after the doctor quickly looked at her knee. Then they took her to get an MRI and returned her to the ER, where the doctor delivered the bad news, saying, “Unfortunately, you have completely torn the ACL in your knee. Surgery will be required; a cadaver ligament will need to be attached to repair the injury. I have arranged for you to see an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow at three o’clock, but in the meantime I’ll place your right leg in an air splint and send you home with some pain medication.” Vashti, while concerned about how this might interfere with her heavy work schedule, was glad she had not injured anyone else in the accident. And she couldn’t honestly be sorry that she had skated with such passion and speed.

When they reached Vashti’s apartment, Brittney asked if Vashti wanted her to spend the night or call Vashti’s parents.

Vashti replied, “I’ll be fine, and I’ll call Mom in the morning.”

The next morning sunshine poured through the window onto Vashti’s splinted leg, instantly reminding her of the accident the night before. She groaned in pain as she phoned her parents.

When June answered, Vashti mustered the cheeriest voice possible and said, “Mom, I need a favor. Can you take me to adoctor’s appointment at three o’clock?”

“Sure, what’s wrong?” June inquired.

“Don’t be mad, but I fell off my board and hurt my knee.”

“You fell off your skateboard?” June asked, in an exasperated tone. Then, flooded with compassion, she added, “No problem, honey. Listen for the horn when I pull up out front.” Vashti hesitantly replied, “Ah, I think you’ll need to arrive early and come inside and get me.”

With apprehension, June agreed, realizing that this could only mean her daughter needed help moving around. She looked upward and muttered, “Please, Lord, tell me she still has a leg.”

Her daughter did little skateboarding these days and hadn’t fallen since first learning the sport, so June was worried about what had caused her to fall. But Conor took June’s hand and said, “Don’t get mad at her or be too worried. To her, skateboarding is like surfing in the desert. She taught herself to skateboard, excelled at it, and still loves doing it. And you know that when Vashti loves something she never gives it up.”

June shook her head and muttered, “Like never letting go of Jeff.” Conor hugged June and replied, “We all loved Jeff. He became family—the perfect son we never had. We haven’t forgotten him. Imagine what it is like for her.”

“But it’s been years since they were together,” June responded. “It is time for her to go on with life and find someone else, and maybe even time she stopped skateboarding.”

After calling her mom, Vashti faced the grim task of phoning her boss. She had no idea how long she would be absent from her job, requiring the other overworked attorneys in her division to take over her cases. However, she reminded herself that she’d had an accident—something people have all the time—though mention of a skateboarding accident at her age might raise some eyebrows, she conceded.

Still, she pondered what to tell David. The truth? No, it would be better to just explain she’d had a fall. When David answered the phone, Vashti said, “D-Chappy, it’s Vashti.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m calling because I need sick leave.”

“Oh, too much vino with Brittney?” he asked, accusingly.

“I wish,” Vashti replied, then paused. “I fell and hurt my knee.”

“You fell? Where?”

“In a parking garage downtown.” “Okay. Will we see you tomorrow?” “No. I need surgery on my knee.”

“Stop and back up. I want the whole truth,” D-Chappy insisted. Vashti didn’t know what to say. She figured that if she told the truth the DA would be livid hearing a request for extended sick leave for a skate-boarding accident. But she wanted to tell her good friend David the truth, so she took a chance and said, “I was skateboarding and fell. We were in the Telstar Building parking garage, and it was late. I was flying down the ramp when a man suddenly came out a side door. I had one second to decide between running over him, possibly breaking his leg, or bailing. I bailed.”

There was a pause as David tried to absorb the image of Vashti skateboarding down the parking garage ramp of one of the tallest city buildings. He had not been aware that it was a sport she loved and didn’t know any other women her age who skateboarded. Then, realizing that such spontaneity and craziness was what he loved about Vashti, he replied, “Don’t worry about it. Just concentrate on getting well and getting back. I will tell the DA that you fell and will need surgery to fix the injury to your knee; what you were doing when you fell is your business. Keep me posted.”

“Thanks for understanding. Mom’s taking me to see the surgeon today, and I’ll call you when I know more,” Vashti promised and hung up. She thought about how lucky she was to have a great boss. They had gotten along from the minute they’d met. She found him very attractive. In addition to sometimes sharing Jameson whiskey after work, they had gone to dinner a couple times, though just as friends.

After David hung up, he thought more about why, amidst the division’s busy workload, he wasn’t furious about losing a staff attorney because of a skateboarding accident. But after reflection, he knew that it was precisely because Vashti was wild, wacky, wonderful, and made no bones about it that he liked her so much. She was a tough woman, and he thought she would be able to recover sooner than most other people.

When Vashti and June got to the doctor’s office later that afternoon, Vashti was in agonizing pain, though she tried to keep a brave face. No one in her family ever cried unless they were experiencing the worst pain imaginable. However, this was the worst pain she had experienced. God help her if she ever had to endure more than this, she thought.

Finally, Dr. Moss examined her and explained, “Vashti, you have a severe injury, but I think we can repair it surgically. You will have some down time, though.”

“How much down time? My boss needs to know,” Vashti quickly asked. “A few weeks at least. Then you’ll be on crutches,”he replied.

She said, “I can handle that. I ran track in high school for four years, and I have been on crutches more than once.”

“What did you run?” he asked.

“The hundred-meter dash and the hundred-meter relay at La Cueva High School,” Vashti answered. “We had a great girls’ track team.”

“Her best time is still posted above La Cueva auditorium’s main entry,” June boasted as she grabbed her daughter’s hand. “She loved the sport, and we were so proud of her.” Vashti appreciated the fact that her mom was always her most enthusiastic cheerleader.

The doctor looked at Vashti and asked, “Do you still run?”

“Every day,” Vashti replied. “I tried to run to work, but I got too sweaty for court.”

“Well, you won’t be able to run after your surgery until I clear you to do so,” the doctor said sternly. “And, speaking of restrictions, you are approaching age thirty, so it shouldn’t be too much of a disappointment that you’ll have to give up skateboarding.”

Vashti replied passionately, “Wait. When I am completely recovered, why wouldn’t I be able to use my board?”

Dr. Moss looked confused, wondering why this was so hard for his patient to understand. “Well, as I said, you’re almost thirty. You are an attorney, and it would seem to me that you would not want to take unnecessary risks. If you tear this ligament a second time, I don’t know that we can repair it.”

Vashti looked him straight in the eye and bluntly stated, “You don’t know anything about me except for a few facts in my chart. Why would you assume that because I’m almost thirty years old I would want to quit boarding when I’m fully recovered?”

Without waiting for Dr. Moss to respond, June wrapped her arm around her daughter and said to him, “We will see you in a few days for the surgery. Thank you.”

On the way to her parents’ house, where Vashti knew she would have to stay until recovered enough to return to her apartment, she heard her mom say, “I’m so proud of you for speaking up. You’re right. People tend to make assumptions based on their own sometimes narrow perspectives, and often they’re wrong. It didn’t make sense to me that just because you grow older in years you automatically have to give up the fun, playful things you used to do, as long as you can still do them and enjoy them. The doctor’s attitude seems to be a recipe for growing old fast.”

Vashti replied as she stared out the window, “Thanks, Mom.”

June nodded in agreement, then, knowing that Vashti must be disappointed about having to slow down for quite a while, she squeezed Vashti’s hand and said reassuringly, “Hey, we’ll get through this.”

Vashti smiled and replied, “That’s what you always said when I was growing up and faced disappointments and setbacks.I always believed you, and you were right. Speaking of track records, we have a pretty good one.” Before they knew it, the day of Vashti’s surgery arrived. They checked into the hospital, where Vashti was prepped for the procedure.

“Are you feeling lucky?” June asked her.

“It depends on what you have in mind,” Vashti replied.

“Not an escape. We wouldn’t get very far with your bad leg,” her mom said, teasingly. She then pulled out a deck of cards and asked, “How about letting me beat you at a little gin rummy?”

Vashti won all but one game, all the while appreciating the distraction from her pain.

When the nurses wheeled Vashti down the hallway toward the operating room, she shouted loudly, “I love you, Mom!”

June shouted back, “I love you too, and I’ll see you soon.”

After about three hours, June spotted Vashti being wheeled out of the recovery room to a patient room. Without opening her eyes, Vashti gave her a thumbs up, and June’s heartbeat returned to normal.

“She’s been talking to a Jeff ever since she started coming out of the anesthesia,” the nurse told June. “She was acting as if he was with her, taking away her fear and making her confident that everything would be all right.” June was glad Vashti’s memory of Jeff had helped support her but was also concerned about Vashti’s apparent reliance on a former boyfriend who was no longer in her life.

Vashti was resting when the doctor arrived and reported, “Miss Warner, the surgery went well. I expect you to have a complete recovery. You will have some pain the next few days, but it should decrease each day. The harder you work in your rehabilitation program, the faster you’ll recover. I’ll recheck your knee in one week and then two weeks after that.”

Vashti flashed him a weak but heartfelt smile. Her knee felt like it was on fire. The pain was excruciating. Years before, while playing rugby, she had watched a male athlete from Australia suffer many painful injuries in silence, but with the most severe injuries he’d shouted out at the top of his lungs, “Rat fuck!” Remembering the expression, she said it over and over in her mind, which made Vashti feel better.