Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
January 2025
Nantucket Island
T he waiting room at the Nantucket Hospital was empty save for the receptionist and a statue that looked straight from ancient Greece. Tara and Josie sat in cushioned chairs. Josie was flipping through a magazine about celebrities as Tara stared ahead, stirring with anxiety. It stood to reason Josie wasn’t as nervous as Tara was. Having cancer was old news to her at this point. Plus, Josie had basically decided she didn’t want more treatment and had only taken this appointment for Tara’s sake. Tara imagined Josie had already practiced telling the doctor, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Tara was still stumped on how to convince her.
“I don’t know how I feel about Tom Cruise,” Josie said now, clucking her tongue. “He always seems so slimy, doesn’t he?”
Tara wanted to ask, how can you think about celebrities at a time like this ?
But instead, she said, “He was really good-looking back in the day.”
“He wasn’t my type,” Josie quipped.
“You liked Ethan Hawke, right?” Tara remembered.
Josie cackled. “You liked him, too.”
Tara grimaced into a smile. She knew exactly why Josie was saying that. It was because Donnie and Ethan Hawke hadn’t been dissimilar back in the early 2000s; they’d both been rocker-esque types with long hair and big opinions.
That was the thing about having a sister. They didn’t let you forget a thing.
A nurse came to get them and led them down a long, brightly lit and white-painted hallway to a big room. Tara hadn’t thought for a second that Josie might not want her in the room, but when they entered, Josie gave her a look that seemed to mean what are you still doing here ?
Tara realized that Josie had gone to every cancer appointment by herself. It was probably strange to share something so private.
But Tara didn’t want to go. She was there to talk Josie into taking whatever treatment was available.
“Can I get you anything? A water?” Tara asked.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Tara sat and tore at her nails and waited. The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
Dr. Addison Franklin entered a few minutes later. She was in her late thirties or early forties, not so far off from Tara’s and Josie’s ages, and she wore skinny gold hoop earrings and a pair of high-waisted trousers under her white coat. Tara watched Josie, wanting her to acknowledge how great it was to have a female doctor. But maybe Josie was accustomed to that back in Manhattan.
“Hi, Josie. Hi, Tara,” Dr. Franklin began. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Thanks for having us,” Josie said. She sounded vaguely bored.
Per Josie’s request (after Tara’s urging), Josie’s Manhattan doctors sent her files to Dr. Franklin, and Dr. Franklin assessed Josie’s current cancer treatment strategy.
“I understand you want to cease chemotherapy and radiation,” Dr. Franklin said.
“It wasn’t worth it,” Josie announced firmly.
“It’s heinous,” Dr. Franklin agreed. “I can understand why you’d want to stop.” She folded her hands on her lap and continued to look Josie in the eye. “But here in Nantucket, we work directly with the cancer research center at my alma mater, Harvard. Because of this, we’re offering an experimental treatment plan to cancer patients such as yourself—patients who have struggled with chemo and radiation and seek other alternatives.”
“I’m not seeking other alternatives,” Josie said.
“Are you interested in hearing about the treatment plan?” Dr. Franklin asked.
Josie sighed. “I guess so. We already drove all the way here.”
Tara shot her a look that meant be nice .
Dr. Franklin laughed gently. In layman’s terms, she described the experimental treatment plan, one that involved “tricking the body’s cells into attacking the tumors.” It sounded sensible to Tara.
But when Dr. Franklin finished describing the plan, Josie said, “Haven’t my cells been tricked enough?”
Dr. Franklin raised her eyebrows. Tara guessed she wasn’t accustomed to facing someone as hard-edged as Josie, someone so set on quitting.
“It’s the most advanced treatment plan available,” Dr. Franklin said. “It isn’t an option for most cancer patients across North America.”
“It should be,” Josie shot back.
“It’s on its way,” Dr. Franklin said quietly. “But the medical field is a difficult one. Pharmaceutical companies are never easy to deal with, either.”
Josie looked like she was about to rip into Dr. Franklin about the medical field and pharmaceutical companies. Her eyes spat fire.
Tara spoke, hoping to calm Josie down. “I told her it would be good to get a second opinion.”
“It always is,” Dr. Franklin said. “And my opinion is that this treatment could be beneficial for you.”
“It could be,” Josie said darkly. “But it also could not be.”
“There is always a risk,” Dr. Franklin said.
Josie swallowed and crossed her frail arms. “My doctors in Manhattan told me I had anywhere between three and six months to live. Is that your guess, too?”
“Based on your file, yes,” Dr. Franklin said matter-of-factly.
“And this new treatment plan would give me, what, a couple more weeks?”
“It could extend your life by decades,” Dr. Franklin explained.
Tara’s lips parted with surprise. She wanted to scream, Decades, Josie! You deserve to live many more decades!
“But you don’t know that for sure,” Josie said.
“Nothing in the medical world is for sure.”
Josie let her shoulders slump forward. A full minute passed before she asked, “How long do I have to decide?”
“For every month you put off the treatment,” Dr. Franklin stated, “the medical treatment decreases in efficacy by ten percent.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “So it’s like a ticking time bomb.”
Tara’s hands were in tight balls on her thighs. Her nails tore into her palms.
“We can fight this,” Dr. Franklin said gently. “But in order to do that, you have to want to try.”
Josie closed her eyes.
When it seemed clear Josie wasn’t going to speak again, Tara scrambled to say, “Thank you, Dr. Franklin. It means a lot that you met with us.”
Dr. Franklin’s eyes were shadowed. It was clear she understood the drama of the situation. How do you make someone who’s been through chemotherapy hell want to keep doing treatment?
Fifteen minutes later, Tara and Josie parked in the grocery store lot so that Tara could buy healthy ingredients for an anti-cancer meal. Josie still hadn’t spoken since they’d been in the doctor’s office, and Tara felt jittery. With the engine off and her hands around the steering wheel, Tara stared into the middle distance, watching a very old woman who’d once been friends with their mom wheel a grocery cart to her little white car.
“I can’t do anything when I’m sick from the treatments,” Josie breathed. “I can’t read or watch movies or think. It’s just exhausting, Tara. Right now, I have so much to live for. But it’s only because I’m not on that heinous medicine.”
“What if this medicine is different?”
Josie raised her shoulders. “I just don’t think it is.”
Tara’s eyes filled with tears. Slowly, the old woman piled her groceries into her trunk and shut the trunk door. Once upon a time, that old woman had been a strong and powerful Nantucket wife and mother. Where were her children? Had her husband died?
“You told me before that you’d think about it if I thought about meeting Mom and Dad again,” Tara said, her voice shaking.
Josie nodded. “I did.”
“How do you feel about that now?”
Josie folded her lips. “Let’s make a decision soon.”
Time was running out. Tara knew that. But she hated to think that everything hinged on her agreeing to see their mother and father again. They were strangers.
Tara swept through the grocery store and came back to find Josie half asleep in the passenger seat. Tara felt foggy with love and fear. Back at home, Josie went to her bedroom to rest, and Tara performed the rituals of making salmon and vegetables. Tears drained from her eyes. She wondered if she would ever stop crying. It felt automatic at this point.
At five thirty, Tara and Josie sat for an early dinner. Josie seemed lost in thought and, after just a few bites, admitted she wasn’t hungry. Tara wasn’t, either.
Josie returned to her bedroom, and Tara packed dinner into Tupperware containers and sat at the kitchen table as her thoughts boiled in her mind.
Not long after that, though, Hilary texted. It was like she knew.
HILARY: Impromptu dinner? Rose and Gale are game, too.
By seven thirty, Tara was in the Nantucket Historic District with a glass of rosé and a flatbread with parmesan, artichokes, and dried tomatoes. Gale, Rose, Hilary, and Tara clinked glasses and watched the snow fluttering out the big window of the wine bar. Tara hadn’t yet told them what happened at the doctor’s office. Instead, she took pleasure in listening to the small victories and annoyances of their everyday lives. Her heart filled with love for them.
She could almost pretend this was just an average, normal day.
Suddenly, she spotted someone on the street corner outside: a terrifically tall blond man with a big, puffy coat and a thick, hand-knitted scarf. Tara froze. It was Johan.
“Why do you look like you saw a ghost?” Hilary demanded.
The three of them followed Tara’s gaze to the corner.
“Who is that?” Rose whispered.
“He’s just an old friend,” Tara said, waving her hand.
“If he’s old, he’s aged like fine wine.” Rose giggled.
Johan was looking through his coat pocket for something. Seeming frustrated, he threw his head back and cast his gaze toward the wine bar. Immediately, his eyes flickered with recognition. He took his hand out of his pocket and raised it to Tara.
Tara’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Wave back!” Rose cried.
Tara raised her hand and waved. A smile crept over her face. It felt like she was butter melting on a slice of warm bread.
“Oh my gosh. He’s coming this way,” Hilary rasped.
It was true. Johan had abandoned his post at the corner, and he approached at a clip, moving faster than most because of the incredible length of his legs. All at once, he was inside the wine bar and approaching their table. Tara alternated between panic and joy.
“Tara! I thought that was you.” Johan’s Swedish accent was especially musical and beautiful tonight. “You caught me in a weird state. I couldn’t find my car keys. But of course, I just put them in a different pocket than usual.” He jangled the keys now, then slipped them back into his pocket.
Tara couldn’t stop smiling. It was hurting her face. “I do that kind of thing all the time.”
Johan laughed. “You’d think after forty-nine years on earth, I’d remember something that simple.”
“The simple things are the hardest to remember,” Tara said, although she wasn’t sure if she really believed that. She would have agreed with anything Johan said right now.
Johan continued to beam at her. Tara remembered what Josie said—that Johan had always had a crush on Tara. Was it true? Or was he just really friendly and nostalgic for the early 2000s?
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Hilary asked finally.
Tara had nearly forgotten her friends were there. “How rude of me! These are my dear friends Rose, Hilary, and Gale. Girls, this is Johan. He used to live on Nantucket many years ago, and he just got back.”
“You aren’t American,” Hilary said as she shook his hand.
“I’m Swedish,” he said.
“So was my mother!” Hilary cried. Excitement filled her face.
Johan glowed. “You look just like a Swedish actress I used to love as a boy.”
Tara fought a violent wave of jealousy. Of course, Johan knew Hilary’s famous actress mother. Of course, he’d been in love with her.
“That’s her,” Hilary said with a heavy sigh.
“No kidding?” Johan chuckled. “That’s the thing about Nantucket. You meet all sorts of people from all walks of life. You even meet a famous movie star’s daughter.”
“It’s a special place,” Hilary said.
Tara felt her jealousy dissipate. Johan didn’t seem too interested in talking about Hilary’s mother. His eyes had returned to her and her alone.
“I hope you’re settling in okay?” Tara said quietly.
“I don’t own much of anything,” Johan admitted. “In a matter of an afternoon, I was unpacked.”
Tara smiled. “Minimalism?”
“I don’t want to care about things anymore,” Johan declared. “Things have never brought me any pleasure.”
Tara beamed.
“I’ve never been to this wine bar before.” Johan looked around as though he’d just realized where he was.
“We’re in love with it,” Rose gushed.
“We’re regulars.” Hilary nodded. “They’d have to close without us.”
Johan laughed. “I’d love to come sometime.”
And then Tara said, “Maybe we should come together.”
Johan didn’t hesitate. “That sounds great. Later this week?”
Tara felt Hilary’s, Rose’s, and Gale’s eyes upon her. They’d probably never seen her so romantically forward. Tara had never seen herself like this. She’d only married Donnie because Josie had gotten ahold of him and told him Tara was pregnant and he was needed here.
What had gotten into her?
“Let’s do it,” Tara said.
Johan and Tara exchanged cell phone numbers; Johan’s had changed since the mid-2000s, and Tara had lost all her numbers when her phone was stolen in 2013. After that, they said an awkward yet excited goodbye, and Tara watched as Johan swept back into the snow and disappeared around the corner.
“Tara Steiner!” Hilary cried. “You just asked a handsome Swedish man out on a date!”
Tara waved her hand. “We’re just old friends. We want to catch up.”
“I think he wants to do a whole lot more than that,” Rose said with a sneaky smile.
Tara rolled her eyes and again told her friends just how wrong they had it. But privately, her heart swelled with fresh emotion and new life.
Josie wanted to be done living. But in a sense, Tara had quit living long ago. She’d sequestered herself in her house, planning other people’s weddings, other people’s birthday parties, and other people’s joyous occasions.
Maybe if Tara was demanding Josie’s optimism, she needed to show a bit of her own.