Chapter 17

"What's going on, Nadine? You all look like something's wrong." Nadine doesn't want to upset or burden Adele with the knowledge of her more than likely fatal ailment…not until the time comes when she can no longer keep it from her. "No…nothing's wrong." She turns and faces her parents; demonstrating a look trying to convey to them not to reveal anything to Adele. "Everything's fine." In one last vain attempt to put Adele's mind at ease, Nadine musters a forced smile. Adele finds herself in a bit of a quandary now. She still feels that there's something Nadine's not telling her; but she also feels that she can trust her…that Nadine wouldn't lie to her. So, Adele, still appearing unsure, chooses to have faith in her newly acquired friend, and attempts to dismiss that impinging, gnawing sensation that something's the matter; delivering an apparently uncertain half-smile back to Nadine. Nadine shifts the topic of discussion, "Hey, Mom; is it okay if Adele stays for dinner?" "Sure. Adele, honey; would you like to have dinner here with us?" "Yes, please. But I have to call my Grandma to see if it's okay with her first." Nadine takes hold of Adele's hand. "Come on; you can call her on the phone in my room." Meanwhile, a despondent-looking David slowly rises from the couch, speaking to no one in particular, "I'll be in the den." Adele watches as he slowly shuffles out of the room; looking as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Once again, that troublesome feeling returns to the forefront of Adele's mind. "Uh…Nadine…if everything's okay…why does your dad look so sad?" "He's not sad…he just had a really hard day at work today; that's all. Now come on; let's go upstairs and call your grandmother." Nadine takes Adele upstairs. Heartbroken and in total dismay, David's seated in his swivel chair slumped over the desk, gazing down upon a framed picture of Nadine that was taken about a year ago. He's gently running his fingers over the glass as if he were lovingly caressing her face. Tears slowly form and trickle down his cheeks. As Cheryl passes by, she sees this and stops in the doorway. "Stop that, David. She's going to be fine. She beat this before…and she'll beat it again this time. Right?" David looks up to her and wipes his cheeks; then says without much conviction evident in his delivery, "Yeah…sure. You're right…she'll be fine. "That's right. She's going to be fine, David." David delivers a non-heartfelt nod; and Cheryl walks away. He looks back down upon the photo and softly cries. A preoccupied-looking Cheryl is angrily chopping vegetables on a cutting board in the kitchen; as pieces stray haphazardly off it from the force of the blows she's delivering. She stops and turns her head to look at the phone mounted on the wall. Cheryl momentarily struggles while debating in her mind whether she should call or not. She turns back around, getting ready to restart chopping again; but instead, places the knife down and goes to the phone. She briefly hesitates before picking up the receiver and dialing. The answering machine picks up after several rings. After the beep… "Yeah; it's me. I don't know why I'm bothering…you never return any of my calls. Fine; whatever…but I thought you should know…your sister's sick again." She pauses briefly, and then continues, "I know you may not want to talk to me…but it would be nice if you'd at least give your sister a call." Cheryl hangs up the phone, returns to the counter, picks up the knife and starts chopping. She continues to do so for the next minute or two, then stares down at the cutting board. Suddenly, Cheryl raises the knife to the side of her head…holding the utensil in a ‘stabbing' position…and thrusts the point of the blade into the wooden board; then releases the handle and leaves the knife embedded in it standing upright. She turns around and leans with her lower back pressed against the counter and arms folded across her chest; staring at the phone. Tears start to gradually form in the corner of her eyes and slowly stream down her face. Cheryl wipes them away, takes in a deep breath, turns back around, takes hold of the knife and resumes chopping the vegetables.