In Practice

(To read from the beginning, click here)

“Yeah.” He started out of the door.

“How’s he doing anyway?” Katie asked softly, referring to Jeff.

Jim’s mood grew somber. “I think he’s okay. Every day he’s a little better than before.”

“Good,” she replied.

The silence was awkward.

Jim shuffled his feet.

“See you tomorrow,” he said abruptly.

“Okay, yeah, see you” Katie replied. And with that, Jim quickly pulled the door shut.

Damn, she thought. I shouldn’t have asked.

Jeff was Jim’s only son, now almost seven years old. Almost a year ago, Jim’s wife, Caroline, was diagnosed with cancer. Katie had just started working at the firm as a clerk when they heard the news.
At first, the word had been breast cancer, fairly easy to treat and things were expected to turn out well. The surgeon performed a single mastectomy on Caroline, then a double. But it was already too late. The cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. The doctors gave her a prognosis of six months to a year; she died less than six weeks after her last surgery. Caroline lived just three days past Jeff’s sixth birthday. Katie liked to think that Caroline held on long enough to celebrate his birthday and say goodbye. It somehow felt better to think that there was some method to all of the madness.

Jeff took Caroline’s death extremely hard. At the funeral, he was the picture of grief, this little boy dressed in a dark gray suit. He cried the whole time. Folks kept telling him that it would be all right but what did they know? How do you convince a six year old who has just lost his mother that anything would ever be all right? It was heartbreaking.

Jim had been the opposite. Katie never saw him cry a single tear. It was like he’d purged himself of all feeling. He stared ahead stoically throughout the service. He thanked everyone for coming and replied, almost automatically, “Why yes, it was a lovely service” to all who shook his hand.

It had indeed been a memorable funeral service, the most evocative that Katie had ever seen, not that she had been to very many. The church was filled top to bottom with pink tulips, Caroline’s favorite. The music was flawless, the eulogy moving. It had been the perfect suburban funeral, everyone had said so.

Jim took just two weeks off from the office to be with Jeff. When he returned, he threw himself into his work. Since that time, he hadn’t missed a day, including holidays. He worked nonstop. He never really talked about Caroline after he returned. It was almost like it never happened.

I shouldn’t have said anything, she thought. It’s not my business.

She leaned back in her chair.

What a day it had been.