Marla showed up to work the day after learning about the cancer. She’d told only Jenn, not her mother and definitely not her father. She’d probably never tell her brother. But she had no idea what she wanted to say to “work.” It was her life, she was a star performer at the firm. The nurse whose job it was to give her the news of the tests had warned that her treatments might make working difficult—going forward. But Marla was advised not to worry yet, that her medical team who do more testing before devising the exact plan.
The terror of having cancer was too new to have any solid idea of what the next week or year would hold. Could she keep up the facade of who she was until she did know? Would she feel bad physically waiting for treatments to begin? Would anyone notice?
Marla was an excellent actress, no one succeeds these days without that skill unless you’re a nun or a monk. Who knows, maybe that’s all a sham too. She could convey confidence, be quick on decisions, be ahead of the game. It was her super power: jumping ahead with feigned assuredness. Now a hole had been poked in that balloon and it was slowly starting to deflate. She could feel it getting closer to her head. Not yet visible, but she could hear the air whistling out. This was not a balloon slowly deflating in a landing after an exciting, pre-dawn ride in the desert. This was her life.
She strode down the hall with the practiced swing in her step. She waved to her colleagues as she passed them. She had had the presence of mind to remember the receptionist’s birthday when she’d entered the building. She should have brought pastries from the danish bakery, just for fun she would have given as a reason. Word would spread, denizens from the far corners of the office would begin to migrate to the lunchroom that was hidden away from the glitzy conference rooms and the executives offices. But even the top guns would show up for sweets. Why hadn’t she thought to do that. Could she still go out and return with pink boxes without it seeming strange? She could, she would. She needed the gratitude from her colleagues. A warm shawl of attention to distract her and them from the possible death sentence she’d just received.