On May 19, 2021, Chap­ter 25 unfolds as Bar­bara rush­es through the qui­et, ster­ile hall­ways of Kin­er Memorial’s oncol­o­gy depart­ment, her mind rac­ing with anx­i­ety. The famil­iar hum of med­ical machines and the faint scent of anti­sep­tic fill the air, cre­at­ing an atmos­phere of both order and unease. Despite the hospital’s attempt at warmth with soft light­ing and cush­ioned seats, the ten­sion of those waiting—some anx­ious­ly check­ing their phones, oth­ers star­ing into space—presses down on her. Marie’s unex­pect­ed call had been brief but urgent, and Bar­bara had braced her­self for some­thing seri­ous, though she clung to the hope that this was just anoth­er rou­tine check-up.

Spot­ting Marie in the wait­ing area, Bar­bara quick­ens her pace, her stom­ach twist­ing at the expres­sion on her friend’s face. With­out pre­am­ble, Marie explains that Olivia, their mutu­al friend and men­tor, has been liv­ing with can­cer for years—something Bar­bara had nev­er known. While the dis­ease is slow-mov­ing, it is still can­cer, and the rev­e­la­tion feels like a blow, leav­ing Bar­bara momen­tar­i­ly speech­less. Olivia, nev­er one to wal­low in pity, has cho­sen to keep her con­di­tion large­ly pri­vate, dis­miss­ing it with her usu­al dry humor, call­ing it “ass-can­cer” as if it were no more than an irri­tat­ing incon­ve­nience.

Dr. Brown, Olivia’s trust­ed oncol­o­gist, has been close­ly mon­i­tor­ing the pro­gres­sion of her ill­ness, ensur­ing that while malig­nant, it remains at a pace that allows her to live as nor­mal­ly as pos­si­ble. Olivia, true to form, refus­es to let her health dic­tate her life, mak­ing her doctor’s vis­its just anoth­er errand rather than a defin­ing fac­tor of her exis­tence. Bar­bara, still grap­pling with the weight of this new real­i­ty, finds her­self shift­ing focus, momen­tar­i­ly set­ting aside her aca­d­e­m­ic con­cerns to take in the grav­i­ty of Olivia’s con­di­tion.

Before Bar­bara can process every­thing, Olivia reach­es into her bag and hands her an enve­lope, her expres­sion unread­able. Con­fused, Bar­bara hes­i­tates before care­ful­ly tear­ing it open, eyes scan­ning the con­tents until they land on the words that change everything—she has been short­list­ed for the pres­ti­gious Pen­ley Poet­ry Prize. A wave of dis­be­lief wash­es over her as she rereads the let­ter, her breath catch­ing at the real­iza­tion that her work, her voice, has been rec­og­nized on such a sig­nif­i­cant scale.

For a fleet­ing moment, the heavy atmos­phere of the hos­pi­tal lifts, replaced by an unex­pect­ed but much-need­ed moment of joy. Olivia, watch­ing Barbara’s stunned expres­sion, allows a small, sat­is­fied smile to form, proud of her mentee’s accom­plish­ment. The con­trast between cel­e­bra­tion and the weight of real­i­ty lingers in the air, mak­ing Bar­bara feel as though life is play­ing a cru­el yet poet­ic trick—giving her some­thing won­der­ful in the midst of some­thing trag­ic.

The ride home along Ridge Road is filled with unspo­ken emo­tions, Olivia’s voice cut­ting through the silence as she sings along to songs from her past. Bar­bara lis­tens, struck by how frail Olivia appears yet how vibrant she remains in spir­it, her pres­ence refus­ing to be over­shad­owed by ill­ness. The car moves steadi­ly down the wind­ing road, but Barbara’s thoughts are any­thing but still, tum­bling between the excite­ment of her achieve­ment and the real­iza­tion that time is slip­ping away for some­one she deeply admires.

Back at home, Olivia main­tains her char­ac­ter­is­tic blend of wis­dom and humor, refus­ing to let the weight of her con­di­tion steal the moment. Stand­ing in the foy­er, she tells Bar­bara to release the emo­tions she has been bot­tling up, urg­ing her to scream. At first, Bar­bara hes­i­tates, unsure if she can find the voice for such an act, but as Olivia throws her arms up in an exag­ger­at­ed demon­stra­tion, Bar­bara laughs, the ten­sion between them final­ly break­ing.

The moment, absurd yet pro­found, encap­su­lates the essence of their relationship—one built on trust, under­stand­ing, and an unspo­ken agree­ment to embrace life despite its unpre­dictabil­i­ty. Olivia’s strength isn’t just in her abil­i­ty to endure but in her refusal to let hard­ship steal joy, a les­son Bar­bara absorbs as she clutch­es the let­ter con­firm­ing her poetry’s worth. This moment, though seem­ing­ly sim­ple, shifts some­thing with­in her, solid­i­fy­ing not just her aspi­ra­tions as a poet but her under­stand­ing of what it means to tru­ly live.

As the day winds down, Bar­bara reflects on the para­dox of the afternoon—how tri­umph and sor­row can exist in the same breath, how vic­to­ries can be tinged with grief. Olivia, despite her ill­ness, remains a guid­ing light, prov­ing that even when faced with the inevitable, life must be cel­e­brat­ed. As she watch­es the gold­en evening sun cast long shad­ows through the win­dow, Bar­bara knows that this day will stay with her, shap­ing both the poet and the per­son she is meant to become.