Pop Vultures

Biology: Kelly and Brenda sit and listen while a teacher explains the workings of the ear. There’s a knock at the door. “Shoot me before I die of boredom,” says Kelly to Brenda. Brenda turns around, sees that it’s Cindy at the door talking to the teacher, and tells Kelly to shoot her before she dies of embarrassment. Kelly laughs and asks what her mom is doing there, and Brenda grabs her bag, saying she’ll tell her later. Outside, Brenda says that she thought they were meeting after school, and Cindy says she got an appointment with a doctor who came very highly recommended from one of Jim’s clients who could squeeze them in if they got there before two. “She?” asks Brenda, and Cindy says, “Yes, she.” They smile.

Doctor’s office, and nice, smiley-looking woman introduces herself as Dr. Donner and asks Brenda what seems to be the problem. Cindy leaps in, saying nervously that as she told her over the phone, Brenda discovered some sort of lump or bump on her breast the other day. Cindy goes on that naturally she was concerned that she have it checked out immediately. Dr. Donner says that in the vast majority of cases involving women of Brenda’s age this is nothing to be concerned about, but they’ll see. She looks at the chart and says that there’s a maternal history of cancer in the family. Dr. Donner asks Brenda how she detected the lump, and Brenda says she was with some friends, they were just following this article on how to test yourself. The doctor says that’s very commendable and she wishes more women would do that. She asks if Brenda has ever noticed a breast mass before, and Brenda says no, then thinks again and says that actually two months ago she got bruised playing volleyball. Cindy, annoyed, asks Brenda if she knew about this two months ago, and Brenda says she didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The doctor explains that quite often that’s how women are initially alerted to a breast mass, they’re fooled into thinking that it’s from some external trauma when in fact it’s really been there all along. “I see,” says Cindy, and the doctor asks if she’d mind if she talked to Brenda alone; Cindy equivocates, and finally says she guesses not.

Alone, Brenda smiles ruefully and tells the doctor that Cindy’s a little overprotective, and the doctor says that she wanted to talk to her alone because it’s important that she realise that her relationship with her is entirely confidential; what Brenda tells her is private, and she wants her to feel free to come and see her for any reason. The doctor tells her to lie back and feels the lump, asking if it’s changed size or shape at all in the last two months or if it hurts. Brenda says no, and asks if the doctor feels it. The doctor says yes, and asks more doctorly questions about periods and nipple discharge. Brenda asks if she’s going to need a mammogram, and the doctor says that they don’t usually do mammograms for women her age, but she is going to need to do a needle biopsy to test the lump, and that will tell them right away if what she has is just a cyst, or something that has to be tested further. Brenda looks worried and asks if a needle biopsy has anything to do with needles, and the doctor says she’s afraid so; Brenda smiles shyly and asks if she minds if her mom comes back in the room. Recapping that scene was like recapping some sort of public health announcement, but I fear that if I skipped over it, someone reading this would be bound to not get a suspicious lump checked out or something, and it’d be all my fault. So sorry if this was dull, but I’m doing it for you, readers.

At school, Steve and Brandon walk through the halls, and Andrea asks where they’re going. Brandon says he’s late for work, and Steve says he’s going to Alfred B Cook. “Oh, really, right now?” squeaks Andrea, and Steve says you know what they say, Alfred B Cook, or you be fried. Andrea laughs nervously and asks if they give any pointers on how to, let’s say, improve your test-taking skills, which, really, you’d hope they would, given that they are a SAT preparation course. Sheesh. Steve says it’s an integral part of the course. “Integral,” he adds, “know it, it’s going to be on the test, you can trust me on that one.” “Never,” says Brandon. He leaves, and Steve goes to walk off too, but Andrea runs after him and grabs him by the sleeve. “What, Andrea?” Steve says, annoyed; she says she’s sorry, she didn’t mean to claw him, but she’s in a desperate situation. He asks what’s the matter, and she stammers that she was wondering if she could… “What?” asks Steve, and she asks in a rush if she can come over to his house that night and study with him after class. Steve grins and asks if she’s asking him for a date, and, affronted, she says no, she’s asking him for the Alfred B Cook advantage: notes, drills, practices test, secret documents, whatever he has. Steve asks if she knows where he lives, and scribbles down his address and phone number. Andrea grins, saying slightly hysterically that they have a reputation to uphold. Did Steve know that West Beverly and Beverly Hills High have some of the highest SAT averages in California? “How illuminating,” says Steve, smiling, and walks off. “Don’t forget, take good notes,” Andrea shrieks after him.

Brenda lies down on the doctor’s table and says she’s just got to tell them that she really, really, really hates needles. The doctor says that with the xylocaine she’ll hardly feel it. Cindy tells her to just squeeze her hand if it hurts, and Brenda tells her she’s just lucky she doesn’t have nails. The doctor explains that she’s going to insert the needle and try to withdraw fluid from the lump; if there is any fluid they’ll know what she has is a cyst and there’ll be nothing more to worry about. Brenda says OK, turns her head away and clasps hands with Cindy. “Ouch!” she yells, and Dr. Donner points out that she hasn’t done anything yet. The inserts the needle as Brenda grimaces. Brenda asks if she’s going to do it yet, and the doctor says she did it. Brenda unscrews her face and smiles. “`You’re kidding, that was nothing,” she says – yet again, it’s a PSA: see, kids, needles are nothing to be afraid of!

The doctor says that what Brenda has in her breast is not a cyst, and they’re going to have to conduct a biopsy. “Oh my god,” says Cindy shakily, and Brenda asks what that means. “Probably nothing,” says the doctor. Cindy asks Brenda to excuse them for a minute, she’s going to talk to the doctor in the hall for a moment, but the doctor says she’s sorry, but she can’t discuss Brenda’s case with Cindy without Brenda being present, but she always likes to be upfront with her patients and give the worst case scenario. “Hope for the best, expect the worst,” says Brenda. The doctor smiles and says on the up side, 81% of these cases are usually fibroadenomas or benign tumours. “And the other 19%?” asks Cindy, proving that her mental arithmetic skills are better than mine. Non-cancerous lesions, explains the doctor, and sometimes cancer – given Brenda’s young age, she finds that highly unlikely, but given the maternal family history of cancer, nothing can be ruled out until they conduct a biopsy. She looks at her planner and says that the soonest she can schedule something would be Saturday. Brenda says that’s her SATs, and Cindy sighs and asks if she can make them up. “I guess so,” says Brenda. She tells Cindy not to worry, she’s going to be fine, and Cindy says she knows she will.

In the kitchen, that evening, Cindy freaks out to Jim that it’s exactly the way it started with her sister. Jim chops plot-contrived onions and tells Cindy that Sheila was a lot older than Brenda, and age is an important factor in this disease. “So is family history,” says Cindy. Jim wipes his eyes and says he hates slicing onions. He tries to look concerned as Cindy says histrionically that she just can’t conceive of anything happening to Brenda. “Baby,” says Jim, “everything’s going to be all right.” Brenda enters and wishes that they’d stop talking about her behind her back like that. Jim says they weren’t, and Cindy wipes her eyes, blaming the hapless onions. Brenda tells her not to make more out of it than it is, and Cindy insists she’s not. Brandon enters and everyone says hello overenthusiastically; he sits down beside Brenda and says he heard she left school a little early today. Brenda says it’s no big deal, just don’t say anything. She says she went to a doctor and explains that she has a tumour in her breast. Brandon looks shocked and asks what that means. Jim says probably nothing, and Brenda adds that they’re going to do a biopsy on Saturday to find out more. Brandon looks woeful. “Is it…it’s not…I mean, do they think it…” he stammers. “That’s very unlikely,” says Brenda, “Right, mom?” Cindy says it’s highly, highly unlikely. “Absolutely,” adds Jim. Brenda says they’re just doing it to find out more. Brandon smiles and says to look on the bright side, at least she gets to miss the SATs, and Brenda smiles back, saying that right now, that’s the last thing on her mind.

Steve’s bedroom: he explains to Andrea that she’s got four choices, and out of those four, one will be a total throwaway. “It is?” asks Andrea, and I refuse to believe that such an academic high-flier could be so clueless about the SATs. Steve explains that they do that so they can weed out the morons. Now, she’s got three choices left, and of those three choices, one word will often mean the total opposite, so you can rule that one out. “And of course I never do,” says Andrea; Steve says that now she’s down to two choices, and even if you don’t know the right answer you still have a 50/50 chance of guessing right. Andrea laughs and says that makes it so much easier, and Steve tells her you just can’t spend too much time on one question, you have to go through the test with total confidence and no hesitation. She rubs her face, taking off her glasses, and lies down on his bed, saying that she hopes she can do it, and Steve tells her she can, she’s smart already. In fact, that’s her problem - she outsmarts herself. “You know what?” asks Steve. He smiles rakishly and tells her she’s pretty cute without her glasses on, which I guess she is, if you like 40-year-olds. She laughs and asks if that’s supposed to be some kind of a compliment, and he says no, this is: he moves in closer and kisses her, and pulls back. Andrea grabs him and pulls him back, kissing him lustily. Steve moves eagerly onto the bed, and Andrea pushes him back, panicking, saying she has to go. She vaults off the bed, saying it’s getting late. She grabs her books and nervously says that she’s sure he helped her score two, three hundred points. “Anytime,” says Steve, amused. Flustered, she asks if she forgot anything and walks out. “Bye,” he says, off-hand, then cackles, does a forward somersault onto the bed and lies there grinding his teeth. Steve is totally on coke.

Brenda and Brandon flip through a photo album, looking at old pictures presumably of Sheila, and Brenda says that mom won’t even look at these pictures, it’s like she wants to forget her or something. Brandon says it’s just hard for her, they were so close. Brenda says it was awful, with her losing her breast and then all her hair; she couldn’t imagine that ever happening to her. Brandon puts his arm around her and says it won’t, he’ll protect her, and Brenda says he can’t. Nobody can protect her. She starts to cry and says that the thing she remembers most about after Sheila got sick was that no matter how much love they gave her she just kept on getting lonelier and lonelier. Brandon tells Brenda that she’s going to be just fine, and when she asks him how he knows that, he says he’s older and wiser. Brenda smiles and asks just how much wisdom he accumulated in those momentous four minutes. “A small lifetime,” he says, and, “Very small,” she adds, whacking him with a pillow. “My eye, my eye,” he yells, and she laughs. Aw, a nice twin moment. I realise to my surprise – and, perhaps, disappointment – that I haven’t wanted to kill Brandon once in this episode. What’s happening to me?