Tim & Cecily

by Courtney Smith

Every day when he wakes up in the morning, he throws a shirt on and

goes straight to his hundred dollar coffee maker that he got for only twenty
bucks. A pot of fresh coffee is waiting for him. He’ll drink half of the pot in his
favorite coffee mug while he checks his e-mail. Nothing from his doctor yet.
His throat is killing him today. After a quick shower he goes to bedroom
number two’s closet to pick out some work clothes. He always ends up
looking the same although his spare bedrooms’ closets are full of clothes, as
though someone lived with him. His morning routine is somewhat hurried
because his commute to work takes over an hour. With his I.D. on his neck
and comb in his back pocket, he heads out to travel to work.
At his work, he is very liked by his co-workers, but he can’t figure out
why. Perhaps it’s because he has worked there for over twenty-five years, so
the people have respect for him. Respected or not, he’d rather get his work
done in peace. If he takes phone calls, he answers with a whispered, “Tim
here,” in case someone is listening behind the oversized cubicles. He’s good
at his job and always takes the newest classes to make sure he’s up to date
with the latest computer software technology. Around his work space, he has
a few pictures in frames he bought on sale: his daughter’s high school
graduation photo, and a photo of a past girlfriend he hasn’t gotten around to
taking out yet.
When 5:30 rolls around, he grabs his coat, checks out of work, and hits
traffic in his Mercedes two-seater. He equips his car with some burned CD’s
to make the two-hour commute back home more bearable. But today is
special - it’s Thursday. He is on his way to a little coffee shop to meet with his
daughter. Just as he remembers, “Cecily” pops up on his cell phone. “You
gonna make it?” “Yeah.” “K, bye.” “K, bye.”
It’s already getting dark by the time he pulls up to the coffee shop; he
can see her inside already, waiting for him to buy her the usual caramel latte
and banana nut muffin with his frequent customer discount card.
At their usual corner table with a built-in chess game, they catch up on
the week’s events.
“So! How’s school?” he asks his daughter.
“School’s good. How are you doing? Heard from your doctor yet?”
“Nope. How’s home?”
“Ehh...”
“Your mother’s still crazy, huh?” He lets out a burst of laughter. There is
a long pause until he offers what he says every time: “Well you know you can
come to my house whenever you want.”
“I know, but I’ll eventually have to go home,” Cecily says as she idly
moves the chess pieces around in no particular order.
When they’re done with their coffees and muffins, he routinely tells her
to call him when she gets home so he knows she’s safe. They go their
separate ways in the parking lot after he tells her one last time to please be
safe driving.
That conversation, the one that always makes him wince when she says
“Ehh...” about her home life, is what resonates in his head tonight. He
wonders what she really goes through at home, if her mother is still as bad as
he remembers, and when his doctor will call. His phone rings in the middle of
these thoughts as he was still driving home. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s me. I’m home.”
“Oh alright, see you next week.”
“You too, Dad...”
“Oh wait, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to go to a concert with me
next week.”
 “A concert? What kind?”
“I dunno, some classical something or other. My company gave me the
tickets.”
“Oh alright, well yeah, I’m always free Thursday nights. Do I have to
dress up? I really hope not because...”
“No. I’ll just pick you up next week. K, talk to me later, bye.”
“...Bye.”
By the time he gets home it is already nine o’clock and he is already
getting tired; the commute to and from work really takes a toll on his neck.
The house echoes as he locks the door behind him. He goes into the kitchen
and opens the fridge where there is always just enough food to make a
sandwich. Salami and extra cheese. He heads upstairs to his spare living
room and sits on the worn-down spot on the sofa in front of the big screen TV
as he passively watches whatever is on the science channel. He checks his e-
mail once more, then heads to bed.

The next morning while he was checking his e-mail, the phone rings
instead. “Hello.”
“Hi, Mr. White?”
“Yeah, this is him.”
“Hey there, this is Dr. Taylor... I’ve got your results from last week.”
Tim takes a deep breath while he drinks his morning coffee and looks out
the window and down at his single car waiting for him.
“Uh, did you want to come into the office sometime for your results?
Or...”
“No, sorry, I don’t really have time for that. I’m okay, you can tell me
over the phone.”
“Okay, Tim.” The doctor took a deep breath himself, and said, “I’m
sorry.”
 There’s a long pause on the phone until the doctor asks if he is okay.
“Yeah I’m fine,” Tim exhales. “Can I call back later tonight to find out what
needs to be done?”
“Yes sir, take the day to think and I’ll e-mail you some information.
Maybe tell your loved ones as well, if you’re ready for that. I’ll talk to you
later, Tim.”
Now he’s out the door, and he thinks peripherally about what might
happen while he drives to work. At least it’s Friday, he thinks.

All day, the theme of his thoughts surround his new problem. During his
lunch break, he reads the PDF files his doctor sent him: “An Overview of Oral
and Head and Neck Cancer.” Apparently he has a tumor on his left tonsil, and
his cancer is called Squamous Cell Carcinoma, a combination of words that
don’t mean anything to him yet. His throat causes him a lot of pain, but the
actual sickness doesn’t seem to hit him - he is still in the indestructible
mentality he’s occupied since he was young. If this is really happening to
him, he thinks, who would he tell? Co-workers? Family? He doesn’t have any
communication with any of his family other than his daughter. And if he tells
anybody, who would be his support system? He’d probably have to go it
alone like everything else he’s done. The personal note from his doctor is
attached to the technicalities of the medical information: “Tim, please call as
soon as possible so we can make the first move. -Dr. Taylor.”
He calls his doctor and sets up a series of appointments. He looks over at
the picture frames on his office desk, and the outdated picture of his ex-
girlfriend spurs him to spontaneously pick up the phone and dial the number
he might not still remember. She answers, though, and Tim says, “Hey there,
Judy. This is Tim.” She says hello and briefly fills him in on what’s happening
with each of her kids. It seems as though Judy is all of a sudden busy and
hurried to get off of the phone. Not wanting to make her feel any more
uncomfortable than he is, he dismisses himself from the conversation. “Well
it was nice chatting, Judy. If you’d like to talk more anytime, please call.
Alright, bye.”
Well that was awkward, he thinks. Then he wonders why he ever picked
up the phone in the first place. He quickly removes her picture from the dusty
picture frame, puts the picture in his top drawer, and sets the empty frame
next to his daughter’s photo again. The frames came in a set, anyway.
For a week he tries to think of people he might have a connection with.
No one at work says anything but formalities to him, and the people he runs
into daily only suffice for small talk, probably because they want a tip. He
always has Cecily to talk to, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to her,
especially since it seemed as though she had enough on her plate. She is,
however, the only person who knows who he is on the inside. She knows his
quirky habits and lets him have them. She even exhibits some of the same
ones herself. As his thoughts drift to his daughter, he remembers that
tomorrow is Thursday, and the tickets for the concert are still in the envelope
they came in. He transfers them to his wallet, and heads to bed. The next
morning is his first appointment with Dr. Taylor, and he doesn’t know what to
expect.

When his appointment is over, he drives home. His thoughts are shifted -
he is more distraught and scared for the future than he was a week ago. Dr.
Taylor set everything in stone and made everything seem real. He examined
his throat - the tumor had consumed all of his left tonsil by this point - and
gave him a very precise outline of every step that needed to be taken.
Operations, extrications, radiation therapy. Tim trusts the doctor, but he feels
like he is now out of his comfort zone and needs time to adjust. Time to
adjust would seem like a luxury pretty soon, at least that’s what the doctor
made it seem like. His work schedule will have to undergo a drastic change. A
majority of his time in the near future will be spent at a hospital in a nearby
town. He is a picky eater, and hopes there will be some decent food to eat.
Then it strikes him - he hopes even more that he would be able to eat at all.
While he is driving, mentally on autopilot, he thinks he might have
miscalculated the scope of the disease.
He has time to take a nap at home before he picks up Cecily for the
concert. Laying in his California king-sized bed, he takes off his glasses, and
falls asleep. It’s a lucid sleep, though, because his throat is killing him. It
seems as though the appointment increased the pain, or perhaps the
awareness of the tumor did. It is hard to swallow but easy to sleep, for now.
His thin dreams consist of him repeatedly walking to the refrigerator for some
cold water to ease his throat.
When he wakes up from his couple hours of rest, he changes quickly and
grabs a water bottle before he heads out to pick up Cecily. They’d have to
drive downtown to get to the concert venue, which would be a good half-hour
car ride. He honks the horn when he pulls up to her house, and she practically
has the front door open already. She speed-walks down the sidewalk and into
the passenger and only other seat of his car. The routine conversation
ensues: the “how’s school’s” and the “how’s home’s.” The vague answers
that imply that if anything, they’re still alive. The “how’s work’s” and
“anything from the doctor yet.” He tells her that work is fine.
He pops in a CD from the guy they’d be seeing tonight in concert. Cecily
says she’s never heard of him, and quite frankly, neither has he. But the
tickets were free and the music sounded bearable. Thinking music, he
thought.
They pull up to the venue and he reluctantly pays ten dollars to park in a
worn-down spot of grass next to other BMW- and Mercedes-type cars. They
join the flanks of the flock of people funneling into the venue’s double doors,
where there are people in uniforms ready to greet you with a scanning device
and ready to rip your tickets in half. Everyone is either overdressed or Tim
and Cecily are severely underdressed. The concession stands are
immediately visible upon entering, but they pass them without a second
glance. They head toward their seats and wait for a few minutes before the
lights dim and a guy, tiny from where they are seated, enters the stage with
a tiny violin in hand.
The sound produced is louder than expected, though, as the player’s
arrangement starts with a pretty sing-song piece. After the first song is over,
they turn to each other and nod in mild approval while clapping. The
arrangement takes on a more dramatic sound not too long after the violinist
gets comfortable on stage. Tim asks Cecily if she wants some water or
something. She says “sure” and offers to make the run instead of having him
do it, but he is already inching past the row of audience members to get it
himself.
He returns with two cups of water - one with ice, and one without. For
some reason the person in charge of dispensing cups of water to people
missed this small detail, and so did Tim. But Cecily notices this because she
has an affinity for lots of ice in drinks. He had already drank from the cup of
water with ice, though, and when Cecily asks him about maybe switching
water because she prefers ice, he snaps.
“NO!!” he screams, as he violently jerks the cup away as if she were
reaching for it.
“What? What did I do? What happened? Why...?” Cecily asks, wide-eyed
in puzzlement at her dad.
He has the feeling the surrounding audience members might be casting
accusatory glances at him, but he lets in the sound of the violin and the
climax of the song is obviously happening. His outburst was probably only
heard by Cecily.
“Sorry...” he offers her. “I...” and hesitates telling her the true reason
why he can’t and probably will never be able to share drinks again.
Her wide-eyed stare is still stuck to her face at her father’s burst of
emotion.
He has to tell her eventually, and there’s a chance that she might not
even hear the bad news due to the continually crescendoing sound of the
violin, so she’d accept the excuse as ordinary. So he blurts it out, in
somewhat of a mumble.
“The doctor got back to me, and... I-I can’t be sharing drinks.” he says
aimlessly yet in Cecily’s direction.
Cecily doesn’t say anything. He can’t tell if she heard him or not. She
turns her head forward again, stares at the violinist finishing one of his
seemingly endless pieces, and sips on her iceless water. Tim stares straight
forward as well, and begins to have tunnel vision for the remainder of the
concert. I have cancer, he thinks. This is happening to me. He feels betrayed
by his own flesh and blood. He is no longer bullet-proof.
The car ride to drop Cecily off is thick with a strange emotional tension.
He wonders if she had actually heard him admit what is wrong with him for
the first time, and she doesn’t answer his thoughts, she simply stares out the
window. Once they are out of the glow of the city, Cecily turns the stereo
down and looks at him for a couple seconds.
“So your doctor called you and the results were positive? Is it cancer?”
“Yeah. My left tonsil has a tumor.”
Cecily looks out the window again, and Tim hears small sniffles coming
from her direction. They pull up to her house once more, and she gives him
another look before she says goodnight quietly. Then she gets out of the car
and slowly walks up the sidewalk to her front door. She fumbles with her keys
for a while, and Tim doesn’t drive off until she’s inside. He lets out a big sigh,
and drives the rest of the way home in silence himself. He goes to sleep
immediately after he enters his house, full of echoes. The next morning he
has to get started on surgery, and he still doesn’t know what to expect.

“Hello?” Cecily answers her phone.

“Hey, it’s me. I was wondering if you could do me a favor? What are your
hours at school today?”
“I’m already done with my class. Why? What do you need?”
“I was wondering if you’d drive me to the surgery center? My doctor said
I might not be capable to drive after it was done. I’m really not sure how long
it will take, though.”
“Of course!” Cecily almost interrupts his favor. “I’ll be on my way to your
house soon.”
“K, thanks. Bye.” He’s always in a hurry to get off of the phone, as if he
has something else to do.
As he waits for her, he looks over the calendar his doctor gave him. The
next couple of months are booked with medical things. He made sure to take
off of work, but the steadily increasing pain in his throat and questions about
the future cancel out the relief of not having to work.
She honks when she pulls into his driveway.
“Hey, thanks again.” he mentions as he gets into her oversized sedan.
“No problem, Dad. So are there any details I need to know?”
“Hmm, not really. The surgery today is to extricate the tumor.”
“Oh.” She seems to be deep in thought as they drive to the surgery
center. When they arrive, she says, “Call me when you need to be picked up,
I’ll be in the area.”
“Alright. Thanks!”
He hops out of the car and Cecily manages a “Good luck!” before the
door is completely shut. She watches him go through the double doors that
seem too wide for him, into an infinite abyss of white walls.
When his surgery is over, he calls his daughter. It’s eleven o’clock in the
evening. She tells him she’s waiting in the waiting room and would meet him
outside.
“What did you do while you waited?” He asks her, somewhat delirious
from pain-killers and still donning his medical cap.
“I got some food and came back. I’m lucky I had homework and plenty to
read. How’d it go?”
“Ehh.” He manages, as he rests his head on the head rest. “It’s painful.
Gotta go back for radiation soon.”
“Oh,” Cecily says, gravely. “Dad, I’ve been thinking about something.
Can I ask you something serious? Hey, are you awake?”
“Yeah, yeah, go ‘head, go ‘hea...”
“Um, okay, well...” She stumbles with her words for a moment until she
holds her breath while she asks, “Do you think it would be okay if I stayed
with you for a while?”
Tim bolts his head toward her, and actually looks her in the eyes as if to
ask if she is serious. “And why would you want to do that?” he asks as he lets
out a good but painful-sounding amount of laughter.
“I dunno,” Cecily says quietly. “It seems like it would be good if you had
me around to take you to... get better... and,” she hesitates, “I don’t think
anyone would miss me at home.”
Tim doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He is partially thinking
about what she asked, and partially wincing from the pain in his throat which
now pulses throughout his body. He’s sure she thinks he went to sleep, so he
strains, “Yeah. I’d have to clean out one of the spare bedrooms, but yeah,
you can have it.”
“You wouldn’t have to clean it out. I’ll do it.” Cecily quickly offers.
“Well when are you planning to do this? Let me sleep first,” Tim says as
they pull into his driveway. She walks him to the front door. He is half asleep
as he leans on her shoulder without realizing it, and they say goodnight.
 He has been in bed for a week. He has just enough strength to walk to
the refrigerator to get some liquid meals his doctor had given him to swallow
for two weeks until he has to go back for radiation. Once his coffee maker
overflowed because he forgot to tell it to quit making coffee for him in the
mornings.
He quickly gets into a television routine. Nothing much is on in the
daytime, so he usually sleeps until six o’clock when the interesting stuff
comes on. He never knew what came on Thursday nights until now. Thursday
also meant Cecily. He vaguely remembers that she had asked him if she
could move into his house almost a week ago, so he decides to call her.
“Hello?” Cecily answers quickly.
“Hey. It’s Thursday but I don’t think I’m going anywhere. I’m stuck
watching TV.”
“It’s alright, I didn’t expect to see you today. But can I come over? I’ve
been thinking about more plans if you want to discuss them. Hello?”
“Yeah come over! The door will be unlocked, okay, bye.”
He hears her come in and ask the echoes, “Dad?” He answers from his
bedroom and she goes in and moves the tissues and cups that sit on the
chair beside him, then takes a seat. They don’t say anything until there is a
commercial, when he lowers the volume.
“So, what’s news?” he asks his daughter.
“Nothing, nothing, how are you feeling? Sorry I haven’t been able to call
and check up on you. I’ve been kinda drained myself. I told Mom about our...
my idea.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, it’s okay though. I figure if I’m quiet about it, it won’t be a big
deal. Do you need anything?”
“Would you mind getting me some room-temperature water?” he asks
her. “Oh and be careful, there might be some coffee kinda... all over the floor
in there.”
For the rest of the evening they discuss move-in plans during the
commercials. They decide that she can occupy the biggest spare bedroom so
that she can have room for her bookshelves and a painting easel. He’d have
to move all of his clothes to another closet and clean up whatever unfinished
projects currently occupy the space, but he has a good feeling about the
change. It would give him a chance to get to know his daughter again and
have someone to talk to about his medical issues. She is only nineteen, so he
hopes whatever issues he chooses to share with her wouldn’t burden her. But
he is also glad he’d be giving her a chance to be away from her mother.
A few days later, she shows up driving a friend’s truck with all of her
stuff crammed into the bed of it. He is able to stand up now without feeling
light-headed, so he opens the door for her but can’t do much else. The
medicine and staying in bed had weakened him, and radiation was only a few
days away. But by now he had managed to clear the space for her, and she
was the happiest he’d ever seen her. She goes upstairs with an unusual skip
in her step as he finishes unloading in under an hour. She dons a huge smile
as she gives him a side-hug, and they spend the evening watching a
documentary before they go to bed. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.