Requiem

“There is no remedy for love but to love more.” -Henry David Thoreau.- Chapter one July 8, 2011 The phone call awoke Mark Bishop at midnight. He looked at the clock, wondering who could be calling so late. He found his glasses on the bedside table and reached for the phone. “Who is it?” he asked, still not fully awake. “Mark, I'm so sorry to wake you up. I thought you ought to know that…” The woman spoke with a heavy Russian accent. She cried so loudly into the phone that he could barely understand what she was saying, but when she uttered a familiar name—“Isabella”—he recognized that the voice belonged to Sofia Kaminski. Mark immediately sat up. “What happened, Sofia? Why are you crying?” Once her sobs quieted, the woman said, “Bella was diagnosed with breast cancer…” “What…” For a few moments, Mark was at a loss for words. He shook his head unable to believe what he had just been told. Isabella¬—Bella, as everyone called her—had cancer? How was that even possible? She is only twenty-six years old, he thought. Before his eyes he saw an image of the blooming, always laughing young woman, with her large blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. She had been his schoolmate since high school, his first true love, the one he still could not forget. Sofia spoke more calmly now. “I apologize for calling so late but this was the only time that I could be alone since I now spend all of my time with my daughter. Bella’s condition is growing worse…” She paused for a moment to take a breath. “I decided to call you because I do not know who else to turn to for help. You were always such a good friend to Bella and you were like a son to me. And Bella speaks of you often these days.” “Thank you, Sofia. I had also considered your family like my own. Please tell me how I can help. I will do whatever I can for you and Bella,” he said enthusiastically, although he could not think of how he could be useful, other than by offering his support. Lost in thought, he missed what Sofia said next. “Are you there, Mark?” she asked. “Sorry… I just still can’t believe it.” “You can imagine how I feel.” “Why didn’t Bella call me?” Mark wondered. Sofia burst into tears again. Mark heard another female voice in the background, whom he recognized to be Sofia’s older daughter, Mila, who seemed to be trying to calm her mother. “I do not know. Perhaps she is ashamed to admit that she is seriously ill. You know, some people do not like listening to the problems of others, they have enough of their own.” “Well, that’s not entirely true,” Mark said gently. “Can you please tell me what happened?” He could hear some rustling coming from the other end. “Hi Mark, it's Mila. It’s hard for Mom to speak English when she is in this state of mind. Let me tell you what happened. It started when Bella decided to enlarge her breasts. A plastic surgeon discovered a small lump in one of her breasts and sent her to Mount Sinai Hospital in New York where they found that the lump was cancerous. Bella underwent surgery, and as a measure of precaution, the doctor suggested that she have a double mastectomy followed by a course of chemotherapy. Are you still there, Mark?” “Yes, I’m listening.” “So, after nearly a year of treatments, Bella went into remission, and we believed that the worst was behind us. But the situation worsened and the cancer spread into her bones. To make matters worse, she also refused to continue with the chemotherapy. “Why did she do that?” Mark asked. “She suffered a great deal of pain from the medication and chemo. She was terribly sick and unable to eat or sleep. Naturally, she read all that she could about the disease and came to the conclusion that traditional medicine could not help her. So, she found someone – a homeless man, and he assured her that he would cure her. She believes that some kind of meditating quack can help her more than a real medical doctor. All our pleas to her about not seeing him were useless; she would not listen to us. That’s why mom decided to call you. If we do not stop Bella from seeing him, this man will kill her. Mark, I’m handing the phone back to Mom. She wants to tell you something.” “Hi Mark,” Sofia said. “All I ask of you is that you speak with Bella, persuade her to see her doctor and to take her medication. She will listen to you, she always had such great respect for you. But please, under no circumstances should you tell her that I called you. Otherwise she will be very upset with me.” “Please do not worry, Sofia. I promise that I will not mention our conversation to Bella,” Mark assured her. After he finished talking with Sofia, with the phone still in his hand, Mark walked over to his desk. In the corner was a picture of Bella. It had been there for eight years, since they graduated from high school. Mark sat down in a swivel chair and stared at the picture for a long time. Bella had played such a significant role in his life. Step by step, like a sculptor, without even noticing it, she had helped formed his character. And he, like a good student, diligently followed in her footsteps The memories fell one atop another, like dominoes, right before his eyes. He pictured Bella and himself in their late teens. She was new to the neighborhood in Brooklyn and started appearing in his high school classes. When she appeared first in their class all the boys immediately took notice of the tall, beautiful girl with model looks. They jumped up from their seats and surrounded Bella. But Mark did not join them. He watched in silence as the other boys asked her to go out after school. “What a beautiful girl,” he could hear his friend beside him say. The friend then punched Mark in the shoulder, waking him up from his yearning daze. “Hey, I see you falling in love with that chick. Wake up, buddy, a girl like that is never going to take an interest in either one of us.” “You don’t have to tell me that,” Mark replied angrily, but he realized that his friend was right. Being shy and physically weaker than his male classmates, he was not as confident or as arrogant as they were. But he was not going to give up. He already had a plan in mind. After school, he followed her home and found out that that they both lived on Ocean Avenue, just two buildings apart. He then started to accompany her on the way to school every day in hopes that she would eventually notice him. And one day, she did. Bella turned around and said, “You know, it hurts my neck to keep looking back at you.” When he caught up to her, she looked at him and said, “Your name is Mark Bishop, right?” “Yes, that’s my name...” he babbled. He felt terrible. His face was sweaty from excitement and his glasses slid down to the tip of his nose. She smiled and extended her hand to him. “I am Isabella, or Bella, for short.” Her hand was small, but she had a firm handshake. “I understand that we are neighbors, right?” she said. Mark noted that Bella did not have a typical Russian accent; which he often heard while living in Brooklyn where a large number of Russian immigrants lived. On the contrary, her pronunciation was soft and pleasant to the ear. “Yes, my house is two blocks away from your place.” “It’s not an apartment building, is it?” she asked. “No, the house belongs to my parents.” They walked in silence for a few minutes which left Mark feeling uncomfortable. He often imagined the moment when he would finally get the chance to talk to her. He even knew what he was going to say to impress her, but now his mind was blank. Luckily Bella asked him a question. “Tell me, is shmuck an English word?” This made him laugh. “I think it's a Jewish word. Do you know what it means?” “I know what it means, but I didn’t think that Jewish words were in the English language.” “America is a mulch-ethnic country, Bella...