“I’m okay.” I lied. I wasn’t okay. I was raging in the dark place, a bubbling geyser of fear and grief threatening to lay waste to the hope I’d found a home in.
“Talk to me,” Harry said, reading the pain in my pause.
“It was so fast. One minute she was laughing, full of life, and the next she’s …”
Harry rubbed his hand up and down my arm.
Hollywood, he’s not going to get you.
I’d held her hand, which was skin and bone, and raised it to my face as she’d whispered incoherently. I couldn’t believe it had come to this – her beautiful essence snuffed out, everything she’d been and seen, all the wisdom she had yet to impart, all her dreams, her hopes, her plans … all gone.
“Thank you, Annie,” I’d whispered, fighting to maintain control of the storm inside me. “Thank you for showing me how.”
“Collateral beauty.” She’d laboured to speak, as if the words pained her.
I’d held her hand to my chest and lowered my head on to her shoulder as the wave burst its banks. When her cool hand touched my face, I’d leant into it and closed my eyes. Her whispered words were like a song, coming and going in short bursts.
“You still here with me, Ave?” Harry asked, drawing me back into the present.
I slid my legs over his and tucked myself under his arm. “I’m here. I was just thinking about something Annie said.”
A soft moan escaped my lips when his hand started kneading the back of my neck.
“What did she say?”
“She couldn’t say much, but I thanked her for always knowing how, for showing me how to survive this.”
“She’s a spectacular woman,” Harry said.
“She really is. I drew a lot of strength from her, especially when it was hard. Do you remember when she talked about collateral beauty at chemo, when you came home early from Samoa?”
Harry nodded.
“She mentioned it again today, as if she wanted me to remember.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I sat up straight, untucking myself from his embrace. “I’d forgotten about it, but then she said it again today. Every word cost her. Every word was laboured and painful. Why was that so important?”
I pulled the blanket off my legs, stood up and started pacing.
“What’s bothering you, Avery?”
“It’s the idea of collateral beauty.”
“What’s in your head?” Harry said, chucking the blanket onto the corner of the couch and leaning forwards.
“I just – well … in chemo, she said that my presence, my approach to life, helped Sammie out of her funk, and I saw it – the change in her. But there’s something else.”
“What?”
My thoughts were on rapid-fire now, and I couldn’t make sense of them all, but one was clear. “I think my cancer saved a girl's life.”
Harry leant back and tapped the couch next to him. “Come and sit with me, babe. Your pacing is making me nervous.”
I sat down and let him take my hands in his.
“Take a breath, and then tell me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t really – it’s confidential – but I need to—”
“Keep the details light.”
“There was a girl … a client. I knew something bad had happened to her and she was showing signs of – well, she was in the danger zone. I could see it, but I couldn’t seem to break through.”
Harry motioned for me to continue.
“I try not to talk to clients about my private life. Well, lately, I’ve been doing it a bit more since I was diagnosed, but as a general rule, I—” I sighed. “I think that might be another conversation—”
Harry laughed. “Slow down a bit, Ave. You’re making my head spin.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips. “I sensed she’d had a hard week, and I knew if I didn’t do something different, we could lose her, so I told her I was sick. I told her I had cancer and that I might die. I knew I was crossing a line professionally, but I did it anyway, and it worked. She opened up to me. She trusted me because I’d trusted her.”
Harry watched me without interjecting a response.
“Everything changed that day. Everything. That girl came back to life. It wasn’t instant, but she let me in, little by little. That one moment saved her life, and it was all because I had cancer.”
“I’m sure you could have reached her another way, babe. You’re good at your job,” Harry offered.
“That’s it, though. Maybe I could have eventually if I didn’t run out of time. But I don’t know. The cancer was the link – her dad died of cancer, so she got it. She trusted that I could understand that deep brokenness inside her – it unlocked the vault. I think that’s what Annie was talking about.”
“Collateral beauty,” Harry repeated.
“Yeah, it’s not the reason I have cancer; I get that. And it won’t change anything in the physical, but maybe it can change my perspective.”
I stood up again, unable to control the nervous energy bounding through me. “If I just focus on cancer, it’s all about the pain. It’s ugly and dark and hopeless.” I brushed a stray tear off my cheek absentmindedly. “What if I stop focusing on the disease and start looking for the collateral beauty? What if I look for opportunities that have arisen because I’ve—” I stared at Harry as if I’d just received the revelation of the century.
“What is it?”
“We would never have met.”
“What?”
“Sandy,” I laughed. “If I wasn’t half crazy with fear that I was dying, I never would have been in that park, I never would have been doing cartwheels or breaking into song. I never would have been her. This whole thing … us …” I motioned between us. “This all happened because I had cancer.”
Harry’s eyes widened as I sidled up beside him and took his hand.
“You know I hate the saying ‘everything happens for a reason’. I seriously hate it and will never use it, but I get it now – I get that there are some shards of beauty in this whole ugly thing. And when I see the big picture, Sammie being happy and confident in herself, a young girl alive and free of her past, and this …” I raised my hand to his face, “… us … it makes me a little bit grateful.” I shook my head as fresh tears fell. “I know that sounds crazy, Harry, but—”
Harry silenced me with a lingering kiss, then rested his forehead on mine. “It doesn’t, Ave. I get it – I’m grateful for that, too.”
I reached forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and tucked myself into the blissful silence we shared.
I woke the next morning to find a note from Harry on the bedside table saying he’d be back in a few hours. Our conversation had made my mind up. I had to be part of the answer. I had to help find a way to pull our young people back from the cliff.
Harry appeared in the doorway just after midday holding two packages, one significantly larger than the other, and a paper bag from my favourite restaurant. I minimised the webpages about group counselling and youth suicide rates and closed my laptop.
“Ohhh, what’ve you brought me, babe?”
Harry laid the boxes on the table and tugged me out of my chair. “Do you need help getting showered and dressed this morning, Ave?”
“Maybe.” My brows danced. “But no, I’ve been up for hours working.”
“On what?” he asked, pulling back to set the table.
“On the school stuff. I think I’m going to do it … well, I’m going to do something. I’m not sure what yet.”
Harry’s face lit up with a grin. “I was hoping you’d do that.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You needed to get there on your own. It was too important to force.”
I held his face between my palms then stole a quick kiss. “I love how well you know me, Harry.”
He paid me back in kind, then spun me around and whacked my bum. “Go have a shower, stinky –
I’ll serve lunch.”
I did the best salute I could pull off with a loud, “Yes, sir!” and marched all the way to the bathroom like a giddy teenager. For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt free of its ugly grasp. Moments would come and go as would symptoms and the dreaded dark place, but for some reason, it just didn’t have the same power it used to.
Hollywood, he will not get you.
“No, he damn well won’t,” I replied to Annie’s voice in my head.
Lunch was amazing, but the whole time I was eating, I couldn’t take my eyes off those packages sitting on the edge of the table.
“Can I open them now?” The words leapt off my tongue.
Harry laughed. “Excited much?”
“Aren’t you?” I thought back to our weekend in Brisbane and felt my face turn scarlet.
“You sure you don’t want to be doing something else?” Harry teased.
“I’m quite sure … we’ll get to that. Presents first. Pleeease!”
Harry smiled, “Which one first?”
“The mould,” I answered, knowing the photos would be very dangerous indeed.
Harry smirked and dragged the box across the tabletop. We took no time freeing the sculpture from its cardboard prison.
What had once been a mess of layered white plaster cast had been transformed into a piece of art fit for a gallery. I traced my fingers down its smooth curves and closed my eyes remembering Harry massaging the plaster in place.
Harry stepped up behind me and joined his hands to mine.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whispered, burrowing my face into his neck.
Harry gave me a squeeze, then collected the final package off the table and walked past me into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I followed him.
“Privacy,” he collapsed on the bed.
“There’s no one here,” I countered.
He grimaced. “It just feels better.”
I laughed. He’d had no such qualms when the photos were being taken. “Okay then – shove over.”
Harry had removed and discarded the packaging before I’d even joined him on the bed. “You ready?” I asked before flipping the cover page over.
“Let’s do it.”
My eyes and mouth grew wide with shock upon seeing the first picture. Harry smiled knowingly.
“She was there?”
He nodded. I looked back over and traced my fingers down the image. She’d captured the moment perfectly. The sun’s rays reflecting off the turquoise waters; Harry and I up to our waists in a close embrace; my arms resting on his shoulders while my hands massaged the base of his skull; my breasts in perfect form, pressing against his chest, and our foreheads pressed together. If this had been the only photo in the album, it would have been enough.
“She’s incredible,” I said.
“Why do you think I whisked you away to Aussie. She’s one of the best.”
As Harry and I moved through the album, we fell in love with each and every photo. The last image was as perfect as the first. It was a medium close-up, revealing our naked bodies from the waist up, Harry’s right arm wrapped around the top of my chest possessively, the other made its claim on my waist, leaving my breasts bare, and the central focus of the shot. I had lifted my left hand to cradle his head as he pressed his hungry lips to the exposed skin on my neck as I tilted my head away from him, my eyes closed in surrender.
Harry pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, and pressed a gentle kiss to my shoulder.
“Do you miss them?” I asked, my eyes glued to the page.
“Of course I do, babe. They were a part of you. A beautiful part.”
I half expected hesitation or even a lie – the type you tell out of kindness. But there was nothing but heartfelt truth. “I miss them too.”
When I closed the album, there was something else on the bed, and it shook me right to my core.
49
I took the velvet box in my shaking hands.
Harry lowered his hands to my thighs but refused to fill the silence with his words. I felt the first wave come over me gently like an invisible quivering in my spirit … as if some dream was coming alive, and I was the only one able to bear witness to it.
The second wave was more palpable. Harry wrapped his arm around me instinctively, pulling me in close, but still remained silent.
I laid my arm on his and turned my face towards him.
He’d already asked me, a hundred times, in his own way – even though he’d never actually said the words. He’d told me in the way he loved me that we were forever. He’d already claimed me as his wife the first time we lay together, though I didn’t know it at the time – and if I had, I would’ve run a mile and never looked back. I touched my forehead to his and breathed in every word he’d ever spoken about our future. I knew now it was a future I not only desperately wanted, but one that I believed in. Now that I wasn’t burdened by the vicious grip of death, I could feel it – the hope … and the promise. I will make you my wife, Avery Bishop.
I watched in awe as Harry slipped off the bed and got down on one knee. I placed the velvet box on the bed so he could take both of my hands in his, and I listened – as if for the first time – to Harry as he told me how much he loved me.
“Avery, I made a commitment to wait for my wife, and I did. I’ve known it from the first time I laid eyes on you. In my spirit, you’re already my wife, but I’d love to make it true in the natural too. I’ve waited for what seems like an eternity for you to be ready, for you to believe in the dream, to believe that we’re strong enough to overcome anything.”
“I am … I do,” I said, nodding my head furiously.
“I’ve been carrying that ring with me since the weekend, waiting for the perfect moment to—”
“This last weekend, or the weekend?” I interrupted again.
“Since Taupo, baby,” he answered, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Since Taupo?” I asked, convinced I’d heard wrong.
Harry laughed. “Avery, yes. Since Taupo. I’ve told you a million times that I knew from the moment I saw you that you were mine – how are you surprised by this?”
“How? When?”
“Don’t you remember the little black bag you spotted when I’d come back from wandering the shops … while you were asleep.” He raised his brows, daring me to admit I’d wondered what it was.
“Are you seriously telling me you bought this in Taupo?”
“Yes.”
A giggle escaped my lips instead of words.
“Now will you let me propose already?”
I nodded, biting my bottom lip.
“Avery Bishop, you are the love of my life and I can’t imagine living even one more day without being able to claim you as mine – my fiancée, my wife, my future. Will you please make me the happiest prince on the face of the earth and an honest man?”
I wanted to make a show of it, make him sweat a little. I wanted to pass a smart comment about him living a life of sin, but I couldn’t. This man had already walked through fire for me over and over again; this man had been my anchor in the storm, so I did the only thing I could do. I threw myself at him and smothered him with my surrender as he collapsed on the floor under my weight.
“Can I take that as a yes?” he asked, drawing back from my passionate attack.
“Yes. Yes. Yes! I would love to be your wife for real and not just for feels.”
“You felt it too?” he asked, tracing his hand around my face.
“Yes, fiancé, I felt it too.”
We both looked up when a high-pitched squealing sounded from the door. “She said yes?”
“Of course, you knew! And damn straight I said yes – have you seen this guy?” I joked, standing up and pulling Harry with me.
Sally ran into my room and engulfed us with celebration, and despite a possible burst eardrum, I loved every second of it.
When she pulled back and took a good look at m
e, her eyes narrowed for a second, then a tiny smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “Something has changed in you. You’re finally sold on the rewrite, aren’t you?”
I smiled, wrapped my arms around Harry and nodded. “I’m all in, baby.”
We watched with joy-filled hearts as Sally did her happy dance all the way out of our room.
50
The next season of our lives was anything but joy-filled. The big C got offended by my happiness and did everything in its power to destroy me. It got close, but even in the dark, I remembered the promise. I held onto it for dear life, and I fought with everything I had.
I heard the whisper too, breathing encouragement into the air around me. It was exactly as Harry and Annie had described it. I gathered those words up and stored them in my heart as weapons in my arsenal.
Just as Suzanna had predicted, it got ugly, but unlike before, I didn’t shut out the people who loved me. I kept the door ajar, so some light filtered into the dark of night, and I focused on that.
It took eighteen months, but we did it. My body yielded to the drugs, and finally, the cancer slowed its spread and then stopped altogether. During that time there were a few rounds of radiation and my breast reconstruction, with an additional three months of recovery.
I’ll never forget the day when Harry and I sat in Suzanna’s office, and she told us it was over. You could barely hear the words through sounds of joyful celebration. I was surprised no one came in to tell us to stop our hollering – that this was a place where dreams were broken, not made – and I’m sure Suzanna would have told them to shut the heck up.
I’d spent any time I could – when the haze lifted – working with other professionals, organisations and schools on the resilience program we’d developed as an answer for troubled youth in our nation and our devastating suicide rates. This was successfully trialled in Abi’s school.
As it turned out, Abi’s mum, Joanne, was so passionate about the project she built a team of politically driven professionals who were willing and able to lobby government on our behalf. And thanks to the health minister’s support, Joanne had been able to implement the roll-out of the project on a national scale. What started out as one desperate attempt to save the lives of a few had given life to a movement whose sole purpose was to empower, encourage and inspire our young people as well as keep them safe when life has them in a stranglehold.
Then She Roars Page 23
