Forever Is a Long Time

It was awful. She hadn't been able to visualize it before, even when she'd been presented with brochures to describe the operation, and its end result, in detail.

She looked at her breast, the one she had left. It was familiar, its heavy shape, sagging lower now than it had done twenty years ago, but it was undeniably a part of her. And beside it...absence. Flat chest, looking almost caved in by comparison. A squiggly, angry red scar, the stitches visible here and there. It was still elevated, but she was told that in time it would even out, and become lighter in shade.

She hadn't been able to anticipate how much it would shock her not to have her breast anymore. She had never particularly liked her breasts. They were too large to her liking, they got in the way when doing many things, and she always had to wear a bra.

Thinking of bras stung. She would have to get some sort of a prosthetic to disguise her disfigurement. She knew it would take two years of healing, before she could even consider breast replacement surgery. She had been against an artificial breast from the very day she found out she would have to get her breast removed to get rid of all the cancerous growth. Now she wasn't so sure anymore.

A black feeling welled up inside her. This was not her life. She wasn't the one that was supposed to be pressured by this feeling of doom hanging over her head, waiting for the biopsy results. Not that she thought anyone was supposed to be under this looming death threat. But she didn't want to be someone who hurt, and was trying to heal, only to be dismembered for life. A breast replacement surgery couldn't give her her body back. Nothing could. In addition, she would be forced to spend the rest of her life afraid she'd develop cancer again.

Maybe she should've just told them to cut off the other one, while they were at it.

Tears rising to her eyes, she wrapped the hospital robe around herself, and skulked back into her bed. The nurses were encouraging, speaking to her like she was a little dim witted. They claimed her scar looked good and she looked good. She didn't say anything.

When the nurses finished wrapping her up, and left, she sat and stared straight ahead. She thought of all the more serious illnesses, more serious cancers, all the mortal or debilitating accidents that happened to people every day. She thought of her life so far, how healthy and unconcerned she had been. She thought of her parents, who had died in a car crash, and wondered if her mother would've developed breast cancer, if she'd lived long enough. None of it helped. She thoroughly felt like her body had betrayed her, failed her. And now it had been mutilated to something that wasn't her.

Tommy came by on the evening visiting hour, like he did every chance he got. Laura didn't know how to describe any of her feelings to him. He was so worried, she didn't want to add to his burden.

-#-#-#-#-#-

Laura woke up with Tommy's arms around her. It wasn't unusual, or it shouldn't have been unusual. It was a month since the operation, and she was well healthy enough to be held. It wasn't pain that had woken her up.

Tom was spooning her, and for a few seconds she pressed closer to his warmth, and didn't remember. Then something made her wonder why his arm around her felt like it did, how was it that it was now somehow lower than normally. He liked to hold it against her sternum, to feel her breathing, right between her...breasts...

She shouted in agitation and struggled away from him. She was angry with herself for how good it had felt, how much she wanted to stay right there. So she shouted whatever came to her mind, accusing him completely unfairly of groping her against her will, and retreated to the bathroom, slamming doors.

"Laura," he said and the door handle turned. "Laura, honey. I'm sorry if I did something. I didn't mean to."

He sounded really sleepy. Things had been tense between them since the operation, and before it he had been afraid for her, and slept poorly. She felt a twinge of guilt, and shame, for behaving like an idiot, but the anguish over her spoiled body exceeded even that.

"Just go away," she said through the door.

"I don't want to go away."

"I just, I don't want to talk with you right now."

"Okay then," he said. His voice was sullen. "But I'm not going anywhere. Remember, when you asked me to never leave you? And I promised you I'd be with you until the day I die, and you wanted me to promise I would never die? That's still how it is, Laura."

He waited for an answer, but she didn't have one.

"Laura?"

She pictured him, just on the other side of the door, touching the door lightly with his hand. She pressed hers against the smooth surface.

"I'm gonna make coffee now," he said. "I'm coming back, to get dressed, in ten minutes."

She could hear him walking away. She moved further from the door, and took her nightgown off.

There was only a small mirror in the bathroom, and she managed to avoid looking at her breasts. She avoided looking at herself altogether, and just stepped into the shower. She didn't even touch her breasts. Or her breast and her non-breast.

She couldn't bring herself to apologize to Tommy, but he didn't bring it up. They drank coffee outside, on the porch, like they often did, and didn't talk at all.

She didn't understand herself. It was wrong to lash out at Tommy. None of this was his doing, and he had been nothing but supportive through all of her health problems. Still the black feeling inside her remained, looming. She tried to forget it was there, but it only got bigger.

-#-#-#-#-#-

"Timothy?" said Tom. "Oh, Karl. Can I talk to Timothy, please."

He waited when Karl went to ask Timothy to come to the phone. Timothy had been called Tix when he had gotten to know Laura, and through her, Tom. He had been an actor in the first of Laura's porn flicks.

Timothy had since retired from the adult entertainment business. He worked now as a personal stylist to those less blessed with a sense of style, and was married to Karl, who was a psychologist. He had shed the nickname "Tix", and went now by the more conventional "Tim", or just "Timothy".

"Tom," Timothy said affectionately.

"Tim," he answered in kind. 'Tim Tom' was their private joke. Laura had once persuaded Tom to try it out with a man, and Timothy was the one it had been set up with. It had been a good experience for both of them, and even with Tim settling down and becoming monogamous, which had surprised Tim himself more than anyone else, that old affection still colored their relationship.

"It's been awhile," Timothy said, but not accusingly. They lived in Chicago, and Laura and Tom in San Francisco, and none of them was the kind to keep in touch regularly. "How's Laura?"

"Well, that's why I'm calling," Tom said. "I'm thinking you're one of her best friends. You know she's not that sociable. And well, she needs a friend now."

"Oh?" Timothy said, clearly worried now. "Do tell."

Tom described Laura's cancer, the operation, the all-clear after the biopsy results were received. How her wound was by all indications healed now, but her mood got ever darker, and she got ever snappier and gloomier. He had tried to talk with Laura's doctors about this, once with her in the room and once behind her back, but they just said it was normal to need some time to adjust. Laura had been absolutely enraged for him to try and meddle.

"I don't know what to do," he concluded. "I love her, you know that. She knows that. But I'm just a construction worker, I've got no idea what to do beyond trying to talk to her, and she doesn't want to talk to me. And she's not okay. I can see she's not okay."

"How about Maria and Mariana?" Timothy asked.

"She doesn't snap at them, but as far as I can tell, she doesn't confide in them any more than she does in me."

"Hmh," Timothy said. "Let me talk with Karl. I'll get back to you. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Take care, big guy! Hugs and kisses!" Timothy said and got off the phone.

Tom smiled when he put his cell away. Tim always got him in a better mood.

-#-#-#-#-#-

Laura got angry again, when she discovered Tom had asked Timothy and Karl to come visit. They had a shouting match, but Tom stood his ground, and for once refused to step down. Laura was so agitated she went to sleep on the couch. She didn't refuse to meet them, though, and the next night she came back to the bedroom like nothing had happened.

Tom wasn't impressed with how volatile she was. It made him afraid to push back in anything less than the most important issues.

-#-#-#-#-#-

Timothy and Karl arrived, and it was clear that they had a battle plan. Timothy got a hold of Laura, literally, and Karl asked Tom to show him around the neighborhood. They walked slowly along the sleepy roads and talked. Tom didn't know Karl so well, but was determined to tell him anything he knew, if it could possibly help Laura.

"I don't know how much you know about Laura," he said. "I don't know how much Tim knows. So let me summarize.

"We grew up in the same small town, we were neighbors. We lived in the woods outside town. There weren't any other kids around, and I'm seven years older than her, so she was a lonely kid. It didn't bother her, she read a lot and she's always been good at being alone, she's self sufficient that way. When she went to school, she got teased a lot, for that birthmark of hers, people can be really petty and stupid up there. So she never had any friends, growing up.

"We once knew an old woman, our neighbor in one of the first houses I did. Or maybe the very first one? I really can't remember. She was the first friend Laura ever made. We talked about Laura with her, and she used to say it made Laura free to be so detached from all the social games people usually play. And she was right as well. If Laura had bought into the stupid social rules of that small hellhole of a town we are from, she never would have become who she is now.

"And also, it's difficult to understand how much grief she's had over that birthmark. Remember, I always knew her, from when she was born. So I have trouble even seeing it, it's just the way she looks. But it influenced her so heavily, when she was growing up, that nothing else came even close. She once told me she never had any body issues, because with the birthmark everything else was irrelevant, you know? So I think this is the first time she's ever had any difficulty relating to her body."

"I see," Karl said. "That's interesting. Definitely gives me something to go on, when talking with her. Assuming she wants to talk to me at all. I suppose Timothy can talk her into it."

They walked in silence. Karl was thinking, he had a habit of furrowing his brow when he did.

"I understand you don't have children on your own?" Karl said finally. "She's never been pregnant?"

"Not that I know," Tom said. "I suppose she would've told me. She didn't really have that much of a sex life until I came along, and by the time we got nowhere near stabile enough to consider, we were too old. We've never discussed it all that much. And well, I got my chance, with Devon, when we settled here. He's like the son I never had. But it's not like that for Laura, I know it isn't. Neither of them has never thought of her as his mom."

Karl nodded his head. He looked like he was filing all this away for later use.

"I just meant pregnancy is one factor that usually gets women to reassess their attitudes towards their bodies. I take it you're willing to do whatever it takes to help her?"

"Oh, definitely," Tom said. "I just don't know what to do."

"Make her some good food," Karl said. "I've heard you're a great cook."

"What?"

"Cook for her. Good food with loads of nutrients. It will help her body to recover, and it will be a way to show her you love her, even if she doesn't let you show it in other ways."

Tom considered it. "That's really good advice, you know."

Karl smiled. "I would hope so," he said.

-#-#-#-#-#-

Timothy did convince Laura to talk with Karl. It wasn't officially therapy, but he assured them he would treat it as confidently as if it was. Tim and Karl stayed for a week, and Karl talked with Laura every day. When they flew out, they invited Laura over in two weeks time, and Tom as well. They masterfully formulated it so that they left the choice of bringing him to Laura, and for the first trip up north she didn't include him.

Tom took Karl's advice and cooked for Laura. He was the one to do their cooking anyway, but now he concentrated even more than usually. He took to setting her food on a plate, and did all sorts of funny arrangements, like he would for a small kid: hearts, flowers, smiley faces. Laura teased him for them, but it did make her eat more, in both quantity and variety.

They still slept in the same bed, and Laura let him hold her, but usually she would arrange herself so that her normal breast was against him. He took great care not to touch her front, but he held her, stroking her back and her hair, when they were going to sleep. He didn't touch her, or look at her, even when she was sleeping. He wanted to respect her boundaries.

She never let him see her naked. At daytime, she wore a prosthetic bra, which made her appear normal when clothed. Her cancer check ups showed everything was fine, and for now the cancer was defeated. It was good news, of course, but since it did nothing to lift Laura's mood of doom, it was hard for Tom to get very happy over it.

Laura flew to Chicago every two weeks to spend a few days with Karl and Tim. Tim didn't know any more than Tom did, and Laura wasn't sharing. Karl couldn't, so they didn't even ask.

Tom knew Karl had convinced Laura to start writing, not in order to publish as usually, but as a therapy. So Laura was writing short, ragged stories. She printed them out and left them around the house, and Tom took that as a permission to read them.

They were mostly about breasts. Big breasts, small breasts, mismatched breasts, mutilated breasts, injured breasts. Beautiful breasts, ugly breasts, degraded breasts. Breasts that ruined the lives of their carriers. Breasts that prevented their carriers doing the things they wanted to do. Even breasts that ruined the whole world. The tone was sometimes wistful, but mostly profane and vicious. It made his skin crawl to read some of them, and it hurt him to think what a dark place she was in, to write like that.

He started to write on his own. He had written erotic stories himself once, he had even participated in a writing competition and won a second prize. He had dropped writing at some point, and focused on the practical side of things: renovating houses, fixing things with his hands, cooking. Now he dug deep, and found what he wanted to say, through words for a change.

Writing was slow at first, but as he got his flow and feel for the story, it became easier. Before, his writing had been rooted in his fantasies, never resembling any particular woman he had known. There might've been bits and pieces of them, but none of them were featured in all their aspects. Not even Charlene, who had been his most serious relationship before Laura.

This was all about Laura. He focused on her, her personality, her body, describing her essence as accurately, and lovingly, as he could. He was in the story himself, but he was present as a prop to lift Laura higher, to put her in the center of the universe of his story. He went over their love together, sometimes revisiting memories, sometimes writing something akin to poetry to praise her.

In his mind he called it "Love Letters to Laura". It had a clear focus in his mind: to let her know how he saw her, how much he loved her. He didn't show it to her, he wrote it on his own, revised it and perfected it, and it felt like therapy.

Tom also started to plan for a confrontation of his own. He used his alone days, when Laura was up north, to check out the nearby motels. Once he found the correct type of room, he switched to internet stores of old books and magazines. He knew exactly what he was looking for, but it took some time to find it. After that, it was easy, because he would've paid anything to get a copy of the magazine he had in mind.

-#-#-#-#-#-

A few weeks before the due date, Kathy had a baby shower thrown for her by her friends. Laura, Tom, Mariana and Larissa paid Devon and Kathy a visit the next day, and admired the piles of supplies they'd received.

"I never knew tending to a small child was so complicated," Tom said, and eyed all that suspiciously. "I thought I'd volunteer as a babysitter, but maybe I'll wait until they're of age first."

Devon laughed. "Don't worry, we'll teach you," he consoled him.

"Well, in that case," Tom said and rolled his eyes. "But seriously, all you guys, I'd like you to come sit down here, I've got something to show you. And Laura has as well."

Devon, Kathy, Mariana and Larissa all eyed each other. They sat down on the sofa. Laura sat opposite to them, beside Tom. He pulled out the envelopes, and smiled at Laura, then gave each of the others a copy. He explained how he had considered adopting Devon and Mariana, but had settled including them in his will instead, and how Laura had decided to do the same.

"And, well, I'm sorry, but we excluded the spouses, so if you guys get divorced you won't get our money," he said. "It's nothing personal. And I hope you never separate anyway, right?"

The youngsters looked stunned. They leafed through the pages, and their eyes grew ever wider, when they spotted sums on some of the pages.

"Obviously, we hope to live to be a hundred, so the specifics will change over the years," Tom said. "We were also thinking we might give you some token sum, as a sort of advance inheritance, after the baby is born, if that's alright with you? It would be then subtracted from the final inheritance, but that way you could have something now, to start the college fund for the baby or something."

"College fund?" Devon said and looked stupefied. Kathy smiled at him with quivering lips, and then they kissed.

Tom still looked at Devon. "And I'm gonna leave the company to you," he said. "It's included in the will. If there's enough cash to compensate Mariana, she won't get any part of it. If there isn't, she's gonna get a part of it, and you'll split the cash. The amount of 'enough' is hard to define, but that's the idea, anyway. Assuming you want it, and you don't?"

He looked at his kids. They looked at each other, and then at him, seemingly in full agreement.

"But I'm thinking, you should start to officially take over earlier," he continued to Devon. "Just to get the hang of making all the decisions. I'll help you in anything you want. And I'd appreciate it, if you let me hang around, and help with the work, when I want to."

Devon smiled brightly. He looked startlingly young, carefree, and happy. Kathy was wide eyed and silent. Mariana and Larissa were whispering amongst themselves, shuffling through the papers.

"Something wrong?" Laura asked them.

"No, the opposite," Mariana said. "See, we've been thinking about children as well, like trying on a clinic with donated sperm, or maybe adopting, but all of that takes so much money we've just buried the idea. But now? I think we have a real chance to really think it through, to see if it is what we really want."

"Oh," Tom said, surprised. "Well, I'm sorry we haven't done this earlier, then. On the other hand, I didn't even realize we were this well off, until we started to count it all for the documents. But I still wish you would've said something."

"Yeah, I kind of wish so, too," said Mariana. Then she looked at Tom, flashed an impish smile, and added, "Dad."