99 Days With You

by Catherine Miller

  ‘Bit random, but hey! Puffins it is. First stop barbeque… Next stop puffins.’

  Emma’s laughter trilled through the air with a lightness she wasn’t feeling. If only it were that easy. She could never abandon her mum like that. It was just the way things were. ‘You haven’t answered the question yet. What would you do, if it was the last thing you were ever going to do? If you’ve lived with that philosophy at heart, surely it gives you a better idea over what would be the best last thing to do?’

  ‘That’s easy to answer. It’s just not that simple to action.’

  It sounded like they were both in the same boat once again. ‘What isn’t?’

  ‘This recent breasts-with-issues business has made me realise how selfish I’ve been all my life. I may have been living for the moment, but everything I’ve done has been for my own personal enjoyment and satisfaction. The problem with that is it’s only ever been fleeting. I might have done the things that set my soul on fire, but what happens once the flames go out? How do you ever keep it going? It’s made me realise that, if I were going to do anything as a last act, I’d want it to be fundraising or something for a good cause. Something real. Something lasting.’

  Emma found the right kind of plastic cheese slices and added them to the basket. ‘Don’t you jump with people who are fundraising for charity all the time? You must have raised hundreds of pounds through your job.’

  ‘I hate to admit it, but I wouldn’t be there if I wasn’t getting paid for it. I’m there purely for the thrills and the money, not because I’m strapped to someone hoping to raise funds for charity.’

  ‘It still counts though. You might think it’s selfish, but really you’re doing something incredible.’ There was nothing Nathan had done since she met him that would make her consider him a selfish person.

  ‘I’m not sure about that. I just know I’d like to do something more. Make my mark, you know?’

  ‘Any idea what you’d do?’

  Having navigated every aisle within the supermarket, Nathan started to scan their items through the self-checkout.

  ‘That’s the part I’m not sure about. If I asked my mates to sponsor me on a skydive they’d laugh at me, but then what can I do that’s bigger than jumping out of a plane?’

  Emma pondered for a moment as Nathan did an efficient job of sorting their shopping. ‘What about running a marathon, or one of those mud courses?’

  ‘I really admire anyone who takes part in those, but I want to do something different, and I don’t mean by running in a chicken suit. If we are truly on about our last acts, then it needs to be epic.’

  ‘Don’t say that! Last acts sounds so… final. How about we call them everlasting acts?’ It was scary. Emma wondered whether she should have even started to think about what might be to come. Because when it came down to it, everyone was scared. There was always something bigger to tackle. There was always a fight to be had, a battle to win, a love to get over. Neither of them knew what it was they would be facing.

  ‘It’s an improvement on calling it a bucket list. Everlasting acts sounds better to me. But right at this moment, we just need to concentrate on never wasting an hour. Shall we?’ Nathan extended his hand out for her.

  Without any need for further explanation, Emma knew exactly what to do. Their shopping was still piled up at the checkout, but ignoring that, she allowed herself to be waltzed around the aisle like they were a couple without a care in the world. Never wasting an hour should definitely involve dancing in the aisles with strangers looking at them oddly.

  It was like there was music playing, even though there was none. The beeping of the tills, the trolleys sweeping over tiles, the buzzing of the fridges – all in tune with their rhythm. In their movements, to an imaginary beat, there was a certain magic to be found. The air shifted as they twirled. And in that dance, it was if a wave of realisation was dawning. What if, in all this madness, they were going to save each other? As she thought it, she felt it – a curious certainty they were meant to be in each other’s life.

  It was a new feeling, being this close to a man. If she were able to store this moment in a glass jar, she would treasure the sensation of his chest moving as it was pressed against hers. She would keep hold of the shiver that passed through her when his breath reached her neck. She hadn’t known this man for very long, but somehow they were meant to be here, pressed together, as they laughed and danced and lived.

  And as every bystander in the shop glared at this display of revelry that was far too jovial for the time of day, Emma’s weirdo stranger friend went to kiss her.

  It was a fraction of a moment. And for a fraction of a moment Emma wanted to respond. She wanted to kiss him like it was the only way two souls were able to connect. Some confirmation that, whatever this sense of belonging was, at the very least she wasn’t imagining it.

  ‘I hope you two dancing queens are planning on paying for those?’ the none-too-happy security guard asked.

  It was alarming, how quickly the world could shift. How swiftly magic could be sucked out of the air. How soon after a moment it was possible to question if it had even existed.

  Whatever tempo had been there was gone. And like a dandelion seed blown away on the wind, Emma knew there was no hope, and not much point in trying to catch it.

  Eleven

  Nathan

  Nathan’s place, as he’d expected, was empty when he went in to retrieve his barbeque. There might have been two other people in his house share, but they rarely saw each other, what with them all being hard at work and hard at socialising. Truly, it was just a place to lay their heads before the next adventure.

  It wasn’t until the past couple of weeks that he’d realised what an empty kind of existence it was. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends – he had plenty. But who could he call on when the chips were really down? What did he have to show for his life of excess? Not nearly as much as he’d like. The question Emma posed had him thinking – what would be left of him when he was gone? He didn’t have a clue how to perform an ‘everlasting act’, but he knew he had to try. But right now he was going to settle for doing something for someone other than himself. Cooking dinner for a stranger seemed like a pretty good start.

  He wasn’t going to think about wanting to kiss Emma. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced the instinct before. Kissing was part of the curriculum for living like there was no tomorrow. But smooching on impulse had been known to get him in trouble. That wasn’t what he wanted with Emma. There were all sorts of other battles they would have to face without that getting in the way. There was no going back if he kissed her. There was just one set of automatic doors between the life before and the life after.

  He wanted to stay on this side of that set of doors. The side that was known and uncomplicated. But would he be able to describe anything as uncomplicated ever again?

  He grabbed the barbeque and attempted to concentrate on the present. He had enough preconceptions of the future to not want to dwell on that for a moment.

  Twelve

  Emma

  Emma fumbled with her key in the lock. It was a telltale sign that, despite trying to play it cool, she was not achieving it in the slightest. Nathan, who was going round the side passage with their barbeque haul, had gone to kiss her. Kiss her. On her lips.

  Once she’d managed to negotiate her way through the doorway, she had to take a moment to try and calm down. Because the thing was, he hadn’t kissed her. He might have thought about it briefly, but he’d stopped himself. That moment was gone. So she needed to concentrate on getting through this meal – not thinking about his mouth or the smell of his shampoo or how nice it had felt being pressed to his torso or the fact that she’d never been kissed before.

  ‘Emma, is that you? Are you okay?’

  It was unusual for Emma to hesitate in going to say hello to her mum. She dusted her work shirt, brushing off invisible traces of the things that hadn’t been. She’d not mentioned tha
t she wasn’t planning on going in for the immediate future, so she’d worn it as if she were off to work as usual that morning. There were so many things she wasn’t currently mentioning to her mum.

  ‘Fine, Mum. I’ve just got some chewing gum stuck on my shoe. I’ll be in in a minute.’ Emma didn’t know where that had come from. There was nothing on her shoe and yet the little lie had fallen from her lips so easily. How many more would follow?

  Making sure she was presentable, unable to do anything about the flush in her cheeks, Emma went into the confines of her mother’s living space.

  ‘You’re late, love. Everything okay?’

  Emma was such a creature of habit that it was glaringly obvious when anything was out of sync. She hadn’t even realised that she was later than she normally would be.

  ‘Er, yeah, fine.’

  Her mum was tipped over slightly in her chair, not quite where she should be and obviously unable to right herself. Guilt over not returning sooner pricked Emma’s conscience as she adjusted her mum’s position.

  ‘Did you have a good day, love?’

  ‘You should have rung me, Mum, and asked me to come back earlier.’ The phone was voice-activated, in case her mother was ever in a position where she couldn’t reach it, and failing that, there was an emergency cord around her neck.

  ‘Oh, it’s no bother. It only just happened.’

  Not so long ago, her mum’s nerves had been intact enough to allow her muscles to correct her posture. That wasn’t the case any more. The MS was eating away at the lining of her nerves, making it impossible for the signals to get through. It was cruel how a disease was able to chip away at a person.

  ‘You need to let me know, Mum. Please. We don’t want you having any more problems with your skin.’ It had taken weeks for a small ulcer to heal before Christmas. They didn’t need any more hiccups like that, especially if Emma wasn’t going to be in a position to help.

  ‘Duly noted.’ Carole smiled, giving a shaky salute towards her daughter’s bossiness.

  ‘I’m not joking.’

  ‘I know, love. I just…’ Carole’s voice trailed off, as if any remaining gusto had been punched out of her.

  Emma chastised herself. It was so easy to get concerned. To forget how hard it must be, living in the confines of this room. The last thing her mother needed was her coming along and pointing out her shortfalls. And right at this moment, it wasn’t about that. They were supposed to be having an afternoon of spontaneous fun.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Emma fussed over her mother’s position a bit more. ‘I have a surprise for you.’ She smiled, trying to ease into the idea that Nathan was busy cooking outside while she was tending to her mum.

  ‘Have you brought eclairs?’

  They were her favourite, and Emma was in the habit of getting them as a treat, even if it did end up being a messy affair. ‘Better.’

  ‘I think you’d have a hard time beating an eclair. What is it?’

  ‘You mean who is it.’

  Her mother’s grin reappeared. ‘Have we got a guest?’

  ‘Sort of. We have a chef!’

  ‘Really? Who?’ Carole jerked more markedly with the news. ‘It’s never your brother?’

  Emma almost laughed at the thought. She was quite right… It would never be her brother. James didn’t know the first thing about being helpful, let alone ever having the good grace to show up and help them out with dinner. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you fancied burnt frozen pizza, or I’d have called him!’ Her brother had been a notoriously bad cook during his teen years, massacring the simplest of foods.

  ‘No, of course not.’ There was disappointment traipsing the edges of her mum’s words. The empty hope that never lifted. A mother’s love that never died.

  ‘The chef is Nathan. Although he’s not an actual chef. But he did offer to cook us a barbeque.’ Emma hoped her mother wouldn’t ask too many questions. Especially when she didn’t have the answers prepared. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain Nathan and his presence.

  ‘A barbeque?’ The delight on her mum’s face was worth any white lies she might have to tell between now and burger-in-a-bun time.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Isn’t it too cold?’

  ‘Not according to Nathan.’ Just saying his name made her smile, sending a thrill through her in ways she’d not been aware were possible. She didn’t want to like him in that way, as she knew it would make their whole situation messier, but her instincts said something different. ‘I don’t think he’s too worried about categorising seasons. He’s wearing shorts,’ Emma added, to clarify just how at odds he was with the cold compared to every other person in Wiltshire.

  ‘As long as we don’t have to wear any!’ Her mum smiled, apparently not at all fazed by the fact that a complete stranger had turned up at the house.

  ‘I’ll go and see how things are getting on.’

  ‘Okay, love. But I want to see this barbequing in action, so don’t leave me here.’

  ‘I’ll be back soon. Promise.’

  Emma left the lounge, and as she made her way through the kitchen, she worried for a moment that Nathan wouldn’t be there. That perhaps this was some mirage she’d been imagining. A handsome man, who’d almost kissed her, was cooking dinner for her and her mother. It didn’t sound like the kind of thing that usually happened in her life. She’d been spending far too long with her head buried in books, feeding herself ideas that were far beyond the scope of reality.

  But as she reached the garden, here was that fantasy: tall, dark, handsome and capable. If the ruffled hair and designer stubble weren’t enough to make her weak at the knees, then his tanned features and broad shoulders were. He was humming to some music coming from his phone.

  Emma recognised the tune. ‘Smashing Pumpkins,’ she said, without thinking.

  ‘Yeah, do you know it?’

  ‘“Farewell and Goodnight”. One of my favourites.’ It was ironic that they both liked a song that referenced enjoying every hour of every day. At least that was how Emma interpreted the words, along with its sense of being a goodbye…

  They both nodded to this shared love and listened to the melody as it played out. The lyrics had a bittersweet meaning when she tuned into them. Often, when she heard this song, she would think about her mother, but now it brought renewed meaning as she started to think of how the goodnight song might be her own. There was a swell in her chest. Her emotions hadn’t been this all over the shop since she was a teenager brewing chin-spots. She peered at the clouds to check if the skies were opening, but even though they were grey and plentiful, she was the only thing spilling over with the waterworks. She subtly wiped away the wayward tear.

  ‘I’m going to switch to something more upbeat.’ A High School Musical track started pumping from Nathan’s phone.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You can’t beat a good musical song to help bring out the happy.’ Nathan beamed at her and started to snap his tongs to the beat. ‘Come on. Don’t tell me you don’t love this?’

  Emma didn’t want to openly admit to loving the song, partly due to a crush on Zac Efron. Come to think of it, Nathan had a bit of Efron about him as he swaggered some dodgy dance moves in his shorts and the thick Barbour-style gilet he’d picked up along with the barbeque. The cold February day meant he needed the extra layer.

  ‘Mum is quite happy about you being here.’ Emma returned her focus to why they were here. It wasn’t to re-enact a movie scene; it was to create one of their own for the benefit of her mother.

  ‘Has she asked any questions?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Emma hesitated and decided to reemphasise the fact that she didn’t want her mother to know that she was being screened for cancer. ‘Can we not mention how we met?’

  ‘Not a word. I think we should say we travel on the same bus and we started talking because we get off at the same stop.’

  It wasn’t the biggest lie in the world. They did get the bus today and t
hey did get off at the same stop. It wouldn’t take much to elaborate, making out that they’d discovered they were near neighbours over a few journeys. ‘I can go with that,’ Emma said, glad they’d agreed some kind of plan.

  But it didn’t take away from her concerns regarding how introducing someone new to her mother would go. She hadn’t realised it would feel like a problem until today. After all, she was always introducing her mum to new people: district nurses, lunchtime carers, staff from the day centre she visited once a week. It wasn’t like their life was entirely isolated, but they were all health care professionals who knew about her mother’s illness and the extent to which it affected her life. She didn’t have to think about what she needed to tell them when they had a set of case notes to refer to.

  ‘I’ll go and set up the dining table. Do you want to eat inside with us?’ Emma was hesitating too much. Letting her thoughts take over the actual living part of living.

  ‘If that’s cool?’

  Emma nodded. It was cool, even if it wasn’t. She was the one that needed to get over her mental hurdles. She took one last glimpse at Nathan as she went back inside. It would seem that even in the darkest of moments, life was sometimes able to provide light.

  As always, Emma laid out the protective cover for the floor and got the specialist cutlery and cup her mother would need.

  ‘It smells delicious,’ Carole shouted from the lounge.

  ‘Can you smell it all the way in there?’ Emma went to retrieve her mother, taking the brakes off her wheelchair and manoeuvring her through the house. They were waiting for a specialist electric wheelchair that would be suitable for navigating through the house, but it seemed like any such equipment required jumping through several hoops and twenty-eight meetings in order to access it.