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I still was that fun girl, and to numb myself from the sickening
feelings that were creeping in. Of course, I didn’t. That wasn’t me anymore.
I’d get through this. I’d have to. If he told Marty and the guys at the agency,
well, so be it. Maybe they’d never believe it anyway.
    The shoot was awkward and uncomfortable, and Dave was a dick to me. It
took every shred of determination that I had not to do something stupid.
Ironically, as irresponsible as I had been with men, I was always incredibly
responsible in every other area of my life. I think the conditioning early on
of always being the adult to my mother must have led to that. So I have her to
thank for that part of me.
    As much as I desperately wanted to walk away, I had a job to do, and
Dave’s fragile ego would just have to deal with rejection. Plus, I was the
client. I, or my agency, was paying him.
    “One sec, I want her to shift positions.” I said to Dave who seemed
surprised I spoke up.
    “I think she looks good the way she is.”
    “And I want her in a different position.” I said looking him
square in the eyes before turning my back to him as I walked over to the model.
    I took my time behind the frosted glass, grateful it was there, and
explained to Malena what I was looking for. She smiled sweetly and when I came
back I made sure my shoulders were back and my head was up. I didn’t need Dave
to like me, but I did need to get the shots I wanted.
    “Okay” was all I said as my indication that he could start shooting
again, which he reluctantly, silently did. As the shoot progressed, I continued
to art direct Malena, talking only to her, and in the end, it was a beautiful
shoot.
    As we wrapped, I vowed to remain professional. “Thanks, Dave. I think
we got some really nice shots here. You can send a drive to the office.” I
stuck out my hand to shake his and he looked at it, snorted and then rolled his
eyes.
    “What’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of schizo?”
    I had no response. Maybe I was. I had tried to be the bigger person,
tried to be professional, yet I still felt like I wanted to throw up. I’m not
sure what the right play would have been. It didn’t really matter. I had
screwed up my courage to get through the shoot, which I did, and got what I
needed. I didn’t combust or wilt or yell or cry. I got through it, which was a
big step. As I drove back to the office I congratulated myself on not falling
apart while simultaneously worrying what, if any fallout there would be at the
office once Dave had talked with Marty and the rest of the gang.
    On the drive back to the office as I was wracking my brain trying to
remember when and where I’d met Dave, my cell rang and upon seeing my mom’s
name pop up, I was snapped out of my pathetic wallowing and reminded that there
were far more important things to worry about.
    “How are you feeling today? Have you been able to eat?”
    She sighed. “God, Steph, I just can’t digest anything. I get hungry and
then eat something and a few minutes later my stomach just bloats up. I’m so
uncomfortable. And I look disgusting. I look so fat.”
    “Ma, you’re not fat.”
    “You saw my belly. It’s disgusting! I can’t even look at myself.”
    As sad as it may have been, I was grateful that my mom was focusing on
the superficial rather than what the underlying cause was.
     “Enough about this. How’s work?”
    “I’m on my way back from a shoot for Illusion cosmetics.”
    “Oh, I use their foundation! I love their products! You know, I was one
of the first of my friends to try their line and now everyone’s using it…”
    With that, we were back to our usual dynamic. She chatted on for the
rest of the drive to the office keeping my mind free from worry about her or
Dave or anything else that could turn my life upside down.
    ****
    Once again, I asked Marty for the afternoon off to take Barb to her
first chemo appointment. Neither of us had any idea what to expect and I wanted
to