Then She Roars

by Vanessa Evetts

  “What?” he challenged. “A sinking ship?”

  Tracey’s face paled. “I’m sorry Harry – I shouldn’t have … let’s just leave it. I’m sure you don’t want me poking my nose in.”

  Harry reached across the table and took Tracey’s hand. “It’s what happened to Mum – and you for that matter – which makes me so determined to be with Avery … to take advantage of every moment I have with her. She’s the one, Tracey.”

  Tracey’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “It was instant, instinctual, as if everything I’d ever wanted was displayed in this ridiculous package of a cartwheeling woman with zero filter who randomly breaks out into song. I’ve never felt anything close to how she makes me feel. I knew she was mine from that very first moment.”

  “Oh, Harry.”

  “I get it, Tracey. I’m not oblivious to the possibility of how this might end, but … honestly, I lost Mum, but I’m still grateful I got to have her, to feel loved by her. I don’t wish I had another mother who didn’t die.”

  “Oh, Harry, of course you don’t. I’m sorry. You’re right – she’s perfect. If it weren't for this whole cancer business, I’d have chosen her for you myself.”

  Harry smiled. That part was probably true.

  “This just means I need to get down on my knees and pray some more,” she added, filling Harry with gratitude.

  “You and me both.”

  41

  Five weeks had passed since Harry had got back, and he’d all but moved in, even if that only meant slipping into bed late and leaving early. His schedule was punishing, with non-stop travel and life and death responsibilities, but I was still grateful.

  I reduced my clientele even further and focused on covering for other psychologists when the need arose, when my body allowed. It was enough to make me feel like I still had something to offer the world. I tried to get out walking every day, even when I didn’t feel like it, just to keep my body moving. There wasn’t much going on in the bedroom either. My head wanted to, my heart wanted to, but my body just screamed ‘hell no’ every time I entertained the idea. Bloody chemo had a lot to answer for.

  Harry didn’t seem to care either way. He was affectionate but allowed me space to ride the crazy chemo train, even after I forbade him from coming over when the side effects got ugly, which they did. He respected my boundaries and demands when ulcers ravaged my mouth, when I wanted to flay myself alive just to stop the itching, and when I slept on the cold toilet floor because I couldn’t stop retching my guts out. He chose self-preservation over his right to be by my side when I was so angry I could have thrown a candlestick at his head … or worse. And he didn’t complain – to me.

  Sally told me every time he popped in to collect or deliver something or purely check in because I’d refused to pick up the phone. I often heard them chatting in the kitchen, but fearing my wrath, Sally pulled the Gandalf card. You shall not pass.

  He didn’t bash the door down and tell me to stop being a dick, which I knew he wanted to. Cooper had told me, Sally had told me, I had told me. The worst part of it all was I’d started to lose sight of the dream. My lioness was comatose with heatstroke or starvation or worse, a gaping wound down the length of her abdomen, and the edge of sadness I heard in Harry’s voice every time I did pick up had me balancing perilously on the edge of no return.

  I should’ve been happy. I’d had my last chemo treatment pre-surgery, I’d survived stage one, Harry was home, Abi was safe, I was alive … but every single beacon of light had been snuffed out by the overwhelming need for this nightmare to be over.

  Stage two wasn’t over; stage two was the destruction of something I loved. Stage two was my brokenness, my lack, displayed for the world to see, and I wasn’t ready. I was so damn sick of feeling sick and weak and hopeless. I didn’t want stage two or three or four. I just wanted my life back. I just wanted to feel whole, to feel me.

  He loved me in the dark. Those words had followed me around since Harry voiced them. I knew the darkness well. I saw its grip on my clients every day of my working career. I knew the power it wielded, but I couldn’t seem to accept that a loving god would allow this kind of torture.

  How was it okay to pump people full of poison and drag them kicking and screaming to the edge of death, to maybe, hopefully, kill the evil beast inside them, which seemed to nourish itself with their life? It wasn’t.

  How was it that in the quest to save my life, I had to spend what could be the last of my life in pain and miserable instead of doing everything that I loved?

  It wasn’t okay, and I’d just about reached the end of myself. For the last four and a half months, every beautiful thing in my life had been overshadowed by fear and death, and I was losing sight of what it felt like to be free.

  My phone beeped.

  I sat up and searched for it under the covers.

  I love you.

  That moment when even in your brokenness, when you’re beside yourself with grief or despair, simple words like ‘I’m here’ or ‘I love you’ from a loved one can lift you out of the pit.

  I held the phone to my chest and allowed those three simple words to consume all the anger and pain inside of me. Harry’s voice entered the room on an echo loop, surrounding me with truth, dispelling the lies and fear I’d allowed to gain a stronghold, a platform in me.

  I choose you. I’ll take it all. You’re mine. Don’t silence her. You’ve got this. I love you. You’re not alone in this. You’re beautiful. You’re mine. I choose you. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be my wife. A voice in the dark …

  I felt a release as his words illuminated the dark.

  I had a reason to fight.

  I wanted to live.

  I tore off the covers and stared at the heels, still perched on the dresser. It was one decision. Get up.

  Just one at a time.

  Shower.

  Get dressed.

  Eat.

  I had to focus on the dream, keep it in the forefront. I slid the heels on my feet, then picked up my phone and hit reply.

  I love you too.

  42

  “Harry should be here,” Sally announced. “I’m really mad about this, Avery.”

  Her judgement was the last thing I needed today. The peace I’d gained from Harry’s text was dangerously fresh. “So, be mad. This isn’t up to you.”

  “He’d be here if it was.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said that already,” I answered, trying to ignore the sting in her tone. “This was the deal. You get the ugly, he gets the good.”

  “That was then,” Sally answered under her breath. I didn’t miss the silent accusation in her thoughts. I’m being a selfish cow. He’s trying to love me, all of me, and I’m not letting him. But I was, damn it. I was letting him. I just didn’t want him here. I needed to keep him separate from this. Why couldn’t she understand?

  “Nothing has changed,” I said definitively as the door handle turned.

  “Everything’s changed, and you know it,” she shot back as Suzanna walked in.

  I watched her eyes dart between us before offering to give us a minute to finish our conversation.

  “We’re done.” I raised my head in defiance.

  Sally growled beside me, and it burst through the thin veil of peace.

  “Seriously, can’t you just shut up and leave it, Sally? Damn it, I brought you here for support, not to berate me non-stop for my choices. My choices,” I repeated to ram some truth down her throat. “There’s not much I’m in control of right now. Making a decision or two on my own without interference or judgement is bloody important to me, so back the hell off!”

  I didn't realise I was crying or yelling until Suzanna closed the door and handed me a wad of tissues. Sally sat there wide-eyed, her quivering chin releasing a build-up of tears.

  “Damn it!” I dropped my face into my trembling hands. I wasn’t even angry at Sally, because I knew she was right. That was the problem – when it ca
me to Harry, she was always right, and a part of me hated her for it. He needed to be here, I needed him here, but he was the good, and this was the evil, and I couldn’t have the two together out of fear that evil would win.

  “I’m sorry, Sally.” I turned towards her. “I’m so sorry; I’m just scared … I’m really scared and angry, and I don’t know how to cope with it.”

  Sally reached out to squeeze my hand. I didn’t know if she was too scared to speak or couldn’t find any words of comfort, but either way, her presence in this room meant more than any words she could conjure up.

  Suzanna sat down and looked between us; the room was pregnant with something, and I’m talking full-term, and it would potentially get ugly and bloody before anything beautiful came out of it. Heck, we’d already had the unwanted advice, screaming and abuse – we were halfway there.

  No one was talking. All three of us were just waiting for this ugliness I’d spewed into the room to dissolve into the air. This was the kind of moment you intentionally create in my line of work, and I didn’t appreciate being on the other side of it.

  “You should have been a psychologist, Suzanna. You’re a master at the pregnant pause,” I offered, wanting to break through the uncomfortable silence created by my outburst and get on with what we’d come here for.

  Suzanna smiled. “Did it work?”

  I could have ignored her; I could have told her I just wanted to get on with it, that it was a private matter. Maybe I should have, but I like her. I like the way she tells it how it is. I kicked my heels off and tucked my feet under my legs. As much as I wanted this to be a ‘heels and lippy’ day, it wasn’t, and no amount of faking it would prove otherwise.

  “Avery, I’m not a psychologist as you well know, but I feel as though we need to clear the air before Dr Franklin comes in to run through prep.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay then, what are we dealing with?”

  “Sally thinks I’m wrong for not involving Harry in the process.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Are you sure you’re not a shrink?” I asked.

  “You trying to change the subject, Avery?”

  “I know she’s right,” I admitted.

  Sally tugged her hand out of mine.

  “I do. I just can’t seem to let myself. I know it would be easier on one hand for him to be here, but I don’t want this to infect what we have. I don’t want our life together to be about cancer.”

  “He wants to be there for you, so desperately. The only reason he’s not forcing the issue is because he’s trying to respect your wishes. But, Avery, you have to know, he’s really hurting.”

  I observed Sally as she tussled with her thoughts, unable to give mine a voice.

  “He should be here,” she said again.

  “We’re just not there yet.” The words sounded as ridiculous to me as they did to her. The problem was, I didn’t know what else I could say. My argument was weak, and I knew it.

  “Where? In Boobland? Oh, I think you've been there for a while now.”

  “Seriously, Sally? Boobland?” I challenged. “That’s precisely why I don’t want him here through this. Boobland is fun and sexy, and I’m dropping a nuclear bomb on it. I don’t want him here for that.”

  “So, what? You don’t think he’ll notice Boobland’s been flattened?”

  “Oh my god, Sally. Really?” I sighed. How the hell do I argue with that? Of course he would notice.

  “It sounds as though you haven’t come to terms with this yet,” Suzanna offered. “I get what you’re saying, Avery. I remember the first time you came in here determined to do this thing on your own, not wanting anyone to get hurt. But it sounds as though things have changed for you. You've found someone who loves you – loves all of you – including your breasts.” Suzanna smiled.

  At least she didn’t use the term ‘Boobland’.

  “But as I said then, you cannot do this on your own. You can’t keep pushing away people who love you – you’ll need them. This whole thing will get a whole heap uglier before it gets better, and you’ll need people who will love you through it.”

  There was no more fight in me. They were right.

  The rest of the session was reasonably painless in comparison. Dr Franklin took us through every painful detail of the surgery and recovery. It was a lot, but at least he seemed to have forgotten about my shameless flirting back in the crazy days.

  Even though I was scared as hell, for some reason it wasn’t the surgery that was bothering me as much as what would happen afterwards. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I’d be asleep for the surgery and then awake for the rest of my life.

  That was the part I was afraid of – the part where I had to live with the reality of the nuclear destruction of Boobland. Yes. I went there.

  When Sally and I exited the hospital, I pulled her into a tight hug.

  “I’m sorry. You were right. Everything has changed.”

  “I get it, you know. I know you don’t think I do. I just love you too much to let you hurt yourself like this.”

  “I know, Sal. I love you, too.” I squeezed her hand when we pulled away from each other.

  “See you at home later?” She glanced at her watch.

  “Actually, why don’t you do a girls’ night out tonight? Shake off the cobwebs.”

  Sally’s eyes narrowed. “Only if that means what I hope it means?”

  I smiled. “It does. I’ve got some serious making up to do.”

  “Well, I do love the sound of that.” Sally jiggled with excitement. “Let’s do lunch tomorrow so you can fill me in.”

  “Maybe Sunday?” I raised my brows with a grin.

  Sally did a celebratory fist pump. “Hell, yes! Welcome back, Sandy. I’ve missed you.”

  I watched her strut her happy self down the street and inhaled a fresh breath of new beginnings. “I missed her, too.”

  I retrieved my phone from my handbag and tapped out a message.

  My place. Tonight. What does fun look like?

  My phone beeped before I’d returned it to my pocket.

  Can’t wait. Literally. See you in 10.

  I couldn’t get home fast enough.

  43

  Harry burst through the door as if being chased, dropped his bag on the floor and wrapped me in his arms before I was able to acknowledge his arrival.

  “Harry, I—”

  His mouth met mine with haunting desperation.

  You need to know, Avery. He’s hurting.

  When I tried to break away, to speak, to apologise, to tell him how much I loved him, he silenced me with his mouth, with his hands. Each move, a plea for my surrender. I raised my palms to his face, trying to gauge how deeply I’d hurt him, but all I saw was piercing need for me to unlock my life for him, to let him love all of me.

  “Let me show you.” I reached down and undid the buttons of his shirt, tugged it from the grasp of his belted slacks and slid it off his shoulders. Glassy eyes followed my every move. I touched my lips to his skin, then pressed my face against his chest and listened to the reassuring rhythm of his heart. I slid my arms up his back and held tight as my own body mimicked his breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I exhaled, raising my eyes to his.

  Harry’s eyes flamed, proving each and every one of his words to be true. He wasn’t here for half of me; he was here to answer every single cell that cried out his name. I’d allowed him to be the prince in my fairy tale, but I’d stripped him of his armour; I’d robbed him of the right to stand beside me in the battle. I’d sidelined my most valuable player.

  I answered the hunger in his eyes with mine, and he took everything I had to offer. We moved in a passionate embrace, shucking ourselves of every thread of fabric that separated us.

  There was so much I needed to say, but right now, Harry needed more from me than words could offer.

  “Harry,” I whispered against his chest once we’d recovered from our passion
ate reunion.

  “I’m here.”

  I rested my chin on his chest, so I could look him in the eye.

  “I was wrong.”

  “About what, exactly?”

  “In the way I’ve treated you. I was wrong to shut you out.”

  Harry placed his hands on my hips as I crawled over onto his lap and pulled the sheet around me to cover myself.

  “Don’t do that.” He tugged the sheet from my grasp and watched it gather around my waist.

  “I’m sorry.” I leant in and took his face in my hands. “I didn’t realise how much I was hurting you. I was scared.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Right now, nothing.”

  I dropped my hands as he lowered his lips to my skin and touched feather-light kisses across the top of my breasts. My words were rapidly becoming a lie.

  “What are you afraid of?” he repeated, sketching around the soft edges of my breasts with his fingertips.

  My whole body was on fire, and yet all I could grasp was fear. “I’m afraid of losing this.”

  Harry raised one hand to the back of my head and drew me in for a kiss. “We won’t lose this.”

  “But it will be different,” I argued breathlessly.

  “So, we get creative. What else?” he asked as if my concern was nothing.

  My breath caught as he returned his attention to my breasts.

  “I’m afraid of not feeling like a woman anymore.” Just hearing the words on my lips was enough to smother the raging fire that Harry had been fuelling.

  “Avery, that’s where I come in.” He raised his hands to my face and used his thumb to wipe the moisture from my cheeks. “I’ll never let you forget how much of a woman you are. This doesn’t change anything for me.”

  “I know you say that now, but—”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No.”

  “This doesn’t change anything for me. You’re more than enough for me, with or without your breasts.”

  I sat in silence, letting his words vanquish any remaining darkness they caught lingering, then I swung open the doors and let my man in.