“Um .. yeah, yeah I am, Adam.  Just the main one.  I don’t have to see the others anymore. ” Jo still couldn’t look away from those hypnotic green-grey eyes, almost forgetting where she was, knowing only that there seemed to be this buzzing energy between her and Becca that made her heart beat faster, and made her breathless.  She could barely register Adam’s presence.

Adam was telling Becca something, gesturing sympathetically at Jo.

Moments later Jo realized Becca had said something, and that her eyes had turned into pools of compassion.

“Wh-what was that, Becca?”  She asked the delicate dark-haired beauty confusedly.  She liked how that voice matched the face: low, cultured, clear as a bell.  Jo wanted to say something about how she would willingly stand next to beautiful Becca all day long just to look at her and listen to that voice read out arrivals and departure information.  Then she wanted to find out everything she could about her.  Were you always beautiful?  And do you roll out of bed looking like this?  Do you eat yogurt?  I hope so.  I have to eat healthily these days.  But I’d willingly down a greasy burger with a chocolate-malted shake with you if that’s what you’re into.

“Adam was just saying that you’re a cancer survivor.”

Jo snapped her head to look at Adam, who’d confused her look for a remonstration of sorts.

Adam’s happy countenance changed to a pained look.  “Hey, I’m sorry, Jo.  I should’ve let you say something about the cancer yourself.  My bad.”  In his embarrassment, he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, so ended up resting one lightly on Jo’s shoulder.

She was about to reassure him quickly but paused.  Talking about her cancer had long ceased to bother Jo, although she knew the subject still made other people uncomfortable, especially those who’d known her all her life.  She’d gone through a difficult, painful initial year of recovery, after the series of surgeries that had removed the tumors.  The struggle, and the pain, made it almost impossible to explain to others what she felt and how she was coping.   Thankfully, she’d crossed into her second year of recovery in less pain than she and her doctors had anticipated before the surgeries, which made talking about the cancer less difficult.    She’d long accepted that it was part of who she was; who she’d become.  She didn’t feel it was something to avoid discussing; but she didn’t go out of her way to talk about any of it, either.