Ellis knew the second the cancer entered his bloodstream. A dark cloud of liquid dropped down from the mole on his hand and spread out into horizontal ribbons into his veins, the way a drop of blue ink does when it first hits water in a glass. He had been napping in his easy chair, a regular afternoon occurrence, so it took him a while to figure out if it had been a dream or not. Now awake with the vision still clear in his mind, he slapped the mole with his opposite hand.

“Damn it!” Ellis said.

What had he been waiting for? He had noticed the suspect hallmarks of melanoma. The mole had irregular edges, a blue-black hue, and a rough texture. But Ellis knew why he had waited. He could not bear to hear the word cancer ever again. His wife, Marie’s, two-year battle with breast cancer had left him drained. Their lives had been reduced to waiting. Waiting for lab tests, waiting for referrals, waiting for treatments, waiting in the waiting rooms, waiting for hope. And in the end, they waited for death. So, when the mole appeared, Ellis had no choice but to wait and see.

Ellis took on the idea of waiting. It explained life. People wait for their birthdays, to enter adulthood, and for things like love. They wait for babies and then they repeat waiting for their children’s milestones, their growth, and their adulthood. When Ellis stands in line at the grocery store, he is acutely aware that he is waiting to pay, then waiting to reach his house so he can wait for the food to cook.

Ellis’s phone pinged. It was his son-in-law. His daughter was at the hospital about to give birth to a second child. She had asked Ellis to plan to be there. Ever since Marie passed away, his three children had tried to include him in their family activities.

Ellis thought he did not have to rush to the hospital. They had all been waiting for nine months, and the baby would come regardless of who was present. It was not like his daughter could force the baby to wait. The new child would have plenty of time in his or her life to wait. Plus, he could not endure sitting and waiting in another hospital. He would rather show up after the birth was over.

Ellis heated up a piece of pizza to lukewarm and ate half of it. In the bathroom, he combed his hair and brushed his teeth. He sniffed his armpits and decided his shirt would do.

Outside in the sun, he stared at the suspect mole. It seemed bigger in the bright light. Then he heard his name.

“Hey, Ellis. You got a minute?”

It was his neighbor, Kevin. Ellis walked over to where Kevin was washing his car.

Ellis met Kevin a year ago when Marie was still alive. Kevin was divorced and bought the house next door in the adults-only community that Marie and he had moved to once they retired.

Kevin was all about looking for action with the divorcees and widows. The two men really had not talked much until after Marie died. Now Kevin regularly invited himself over. Ellis needed the company, but he still did not feel a real connection with his neighbor.

“How about a beer?” Kevin reached into the ubiquitous cooler that was by his side at the pool, on his porch, and now in the grass by his wet car.

“Sure,” said Ellis.

Kevin did most of the talking. He rambled on about a newcomer to the development who was into tennis. Kevin had yet to catch her eye. Ellis never said as much, but he wondered why Kevin had not had luck with the ladies in the past year. Then Kevin abruptly changed the subject.

“You have a good relationship with your kids, don’t you, Ellis?

“Yeah, too good sometimes. They never leave me alone now that Marie is gone. Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t worry about me so much. Why? What makes you ask?”

“Well, I have a daughter I haven’t seen in over twenty years. It’s a long story, but she thinks I deserted her and her mom when she was ten. But the truth is, her mother never wanted me around and made it impossible to see my daughter. She wrote to me the other day and is coming over in a few hours.”

“That sounds good, Kevin. And I’m sure a little nerve-wracking.”

“I was hoping you could tell me what to expect. I mean, she’s an adult now, so I really don’t know her. I am not happy with myself feeling uncomfortable. I have waited a very long time for this to happen and now I’m a wreck.”

“Yeah, I guess it could be uncomfortable. Maybe just be a good listener. You can ask her about the last twenty years and what she is up to now. Hey, Kevin, I hate to cut you off, but I need to get going. Thanks for the beer.”

“Oh, sure. Anytime. Wish me luck.”

On the way to the hospital, he thought about how Kevin had waited for twenty years for his daughter to reach out. Then he thought that Kevin had waited to contact her, and the definition of waiting changed to stalling and procrastination. The way we wait to finish a chore such as dirty dishes.

Ellis drove as slow as traffic would allow. He asked Siri to play his text messages three separate times. His son-in-law’s last message read “the baby will be here any minute now.” Ellis was relieved.

His daughter was holding the infant when he found her room. He had meant to stop for flowers, but completely forgot. He planned to go to the gift shop before he went home.

“Hi Dad! It’s a girl! We are going to name her after Mom!”

Ellis kissed the top of his daughter’s head. The infant nestled against her mother’s chest, her suckling barely audible.

“That’s so nice of you. Your mom would have loved to add a granddaughter to the bunch of grandsons. How are you doing?”

“I’m good, just a little tired. I will sleep after she latches on.”

There it was, waiting again. Ellis stayed about an hour and then excused himself. He bought a vase full of flowers and arranged for its delivery to his daughter’s room, then drove home.

That night, he had frustrating dreams about trying to get somewhere but never reaching whatever unspecified place it was. Similar dreams continued for nights on end. Ellis filled his days with visits to see his new granddaughter, little Marie. Ellis found joy staring at her face. She took after his late wife.

After coffee one morning, Ellis looked through his contacts for a dermatologist he had seen in the past. He dialed the number. As soon as the cheery receptionist greeted him, she followed up with a quick “I need to put you on hold.” The orchestral music started, and Ellis waited for her to come back.

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Susan Andrelchik is a writer of short literary fiction and poetry. She is the recipient of the 2023 Terry Kay  Prize for Fiction. Her works have appeared in Al Dente, Roi Faineant, Locust Shells Journal, The Paradox Literary magazine, among others. Susan resides in Atlanta with her husband and cat.