Monogamy Book One. Lover: This is one love for life and beyond time

by Victoria Sobolev

  ‘But you’re driving!’

  ‘I brought my assistant with me.’

  I pass him a bottle of whisky and a glass. Then I make myself a coffee and we sit on a soft, comfortable settee by the glass wall because the sea view is breath-taking today: the autumn sky is saturated with pink and the sea is dark, tumultuous.

  ‘So how did it go?’ I ask.

  ‘It was okay, but he looks awful. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. It’s obvious he doesn’t have much time left. He wanted to get up, but he couldn’t.’

  ‘He gets dizzy, that’s all. It will pass.’

  ‘No, it’s more than that. He just doesn’t have the strength to do it. He’s little more than a corpse, there’s almost nothing of him left.’

  ‘Why are you telling me all this? Do you think I’m here on some kind of holiday? Just naively taking it easy? Working on my tan? I can see just as well as you and I’m sick and tired of it all! I’m exhausted and have lost five kilogrammes myself. I have a husband and children waiting for me at home, a husband that will probably throw me out after this! Wouldn’t you throw your wife out if she disappeared for months to help a virtual stranger, and a man at that?’

  It’s suddenly all too much, and I let someone else see me cry for the first time in months.

  Suddenly, Mark says, ‘If you go, then he’ll die for sure. Not of cancer, but of heartbreak. He loves you. He has always loved you.’

  ‘But he has never said it...’

  ‘Sometimes it doesn’t need to be said.’

  ‘It always needs to be said, Mark. Always! But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help him beat this illness and we will beat it! I’ll have a good cry in front of you now, then go upstairs with a cheerful smile on my face. I’ll tell him that his test results are good, that he’s young, that he’s holding up well, that he looks better today than he did yesterday, although it’s a lie. He looks worse today, and I know he’ll look even worse tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. I have eyes and a brain just like you, but the best we can do for him right now is to believe in him and support him.’

  ‘You’re incredible, do you know that? I would give anything to have the love of a woman like you.’

  ‘This is really not the time, Mark!’

  ‘It’s the perfect time. I need to talk to you about something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something serious.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know how all this will end, but you have already done more for my friend than his wife, lovers, girlfriends and relatives put together. You’re here giving him every ounce of strength you have, giving him months of your life, and I think you should have a chat with him about being included in his will.’

  I am so taken aback by what he has just said that I momentarily lose the power of speech. I wait a moment before responding.

  ‘You know, Mark, you are also incredible. You give out your big smiles to all and sundry, but you don’t understand what it means to be selfless, to give help without expecting anything in return! Just your ordinary help and support that is everyone’s sacred duty when someone they care about is in trouble. And Alex will never be able to understand how much he hurt me when he left me his apartment as some kind of consolation prize. He probably still thinks he did the right thing, made some grand gesture, but he has no idea how I cried with shame. Even now I want to burst into tears just thinking about it.’

  ‘You’re being stupid! I don’t think you realise how much money he has! He is extremely wealthy and it’s all going to go to someone who is completely undeserving of it.’

  ‘Knowing Alex, I’m sure that, if he does have a will, it will only include those who really deserve it. And as for me, I have tried to explain my position to you as clearly as possible.’

  ‘There’s a lot of goodness in you, but you’re not pragmatic. You need to be able to turn off your feelings and emotions sometimes. And trust me when I say that now is one of those times, because life doesn’t end here, it will go on after his death.’

  ‘And is your pragmatism capable of understanding how a seriously ill person who thirsts for life will feel when someone asks to be included in his will? Especially if that someone suddenly turns out to be truly dear to him, but, at such a difficult time, has more belief in the US dollar than in his life? It would kill any flicker of hope he may still have, along with any chance he has of getting out of this nightmare. I believe – no, I know – that he will get better. He has to. The world cannot exist without him. He’s going to get through this and it will be just the same as before, with the girls choosing him over you every time, because Alex always was, is and will be the most beautiful man in this world. And you will all “ooh” and “aah” in astonishment, you will all sigh and gasp and exclaim: “It’s a miracle!” I didn’t fly halfway around the world for his money, I did it to save his life! And you know what? When I start something, I see it through to the end!’

  And I’m suddenly drowning in tears, all the tears I usually hold back when contemplating Alex’s wasted body, his humiliating helplessness, and the hopeless deterioration of his condition. Even though Tony says he is getting better little by little, it seems that they’re nothing more than words. Judging by what I have seen in the last few months, his condition is steadily deteriorating. So steadily, in fact, that there are thoughts skulking about in my head that shouldn’t be there. So I really need this opportunity to cry on someone’s shoulder and I’m not going to miss it. Unfortunately, however, the shoulder on offer is not yet ready to drop the subject.

  ‘If that’s what you think about girls then you’re wrong. Alex and I have always seen eye to eye where they’re concerned. And believe me when I say that I have never envied his looks, I don’t need them. There’s more to being a man than good looks. But I can see that your head is filled with sentimentality and emotion, so I’ll drop by tomorrow for the papers and talk to him about it myself.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! I won’t let you in! I won’t ever let you in again, do you understand?’

  ‘Just listen to what I’m saying. Alex once told me that you live in a tiny old house, but you dream of having a big new one. You can’t imagine how free he is with his money and how much he gives to people. I mean, he buys apartments and houses for tramps he’s dated just because they were once nice to him and lived with him for a while. He sometimes does crazy things and I have no idea why. And now here he is, dying, and you’re right here by his side. That’s what matters to him. But he can barely think straight right now. I mean, he didn’t even recognise me today. If he was well enough to see the whole picture clearly, he would be absolutely devastated! You have to understand that he needs it more than you do. You were upset with him about the apartment? You can’t imagine how upset he was when you returned his gifts. All he wanted was to love you, but he didn’t know how to show it, how to get through to you! The house you’re living in right now he built for you and you didn’t even bother to take a look at it!’

  Mark has tears in his eyes and is trying hard to quell his emotions. I, on the other hand, am virtually hysterical at what he has just said.

  ‘How do you think I’ll feel spending his money, knowing that he himself is no longer alive?! That he has gone forever?! His money can burn, for all I care; I don’t want anything to do with it. And you know what? Even if you get him to change his will, I’ll refuse to accept it. So there’s no point bothering him with this nonsense!’

  ‘Okay, Lera, you know better. You don’t want the money. So you just go on back to your old life and let others spend it and enjoy a rich, comfortable life made possible by Alex. Your Alex, by the way. He was and always will be your Alex. You are sometimes so blinded by propriety that you can’t see how foolish you’re being. I mean, it’s obvious to me that you love him, and I know that he has spent all these years loving you, so why the hell aren’t you together? Why aren’t you making each other happy and having beautiful babies? W
hy are you both living your own separate, wretched lives? I’ll tell you why. Because at some point you decided to fiercely stand by what you regard as the right decision! Think about it. I mean, all you have right now is time to think. It’s not like you can have much of a chat with him, there’s almost nothing left of him. Get down off your high horse and look truth in the eye for once in your life!’

  ‘I already live in a big new house that my husband and I built together. I’m doing fine and have two beautiful children. Maybe I did make a mistake back then, but I had my reasons, not that I’d expect you to understand. Just don’t mention the will, okay? Don’t humiliate him like that, don’t upset him! Let people decide such issues for themselves. Right now, I know better than you what each of us really needs.’

  *** ‘Grow Old With Me’ by Tom Odell ***

  After Mark leaves, I pull myself together and go up to see Alex. He is lying on his stomach in his enormous bedroom, dressed in a warm, dark-blue hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head.

  ‘Why are you dressed?’ I ask him. ‘Are you cold? Do you want me to bring you a warmer blanket?’

  ‘No, I went out onto the terrace to get some air.’

  ‘With just that hoodie on in this cold? Was one bout of pneumonia not enough for you?’

  ‘I really wasn’t out there for very long.’

  ‘Did you get up yourself?’

  ‘No, Mark helped me.’

  ‘Listen, Mark left some documents for you to sign. Let me help you sit up and we’ll read through them now while you’re awake, because he’s coming back for them tomorrow and I don’t want to have to wake you up later, okay?’

  ‘Okay, but I’ll do it myself.’

  And he does. He sits up all by himself and rests his back against the headboard, then picks up the documents and starts to read. I feel a huge sense of relief that things aren’t as bad as Mark made out.

  Every now and again, Alex looks at me strangely as if he wants to say something but can’t pluck up the courage. I try to help him.

  ‘Speak! What do you want to tell me?’

  ‘I... just... thank you for helping.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I reply, but get the feeling that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

  Alex immerses himself back in his reading, scribbles something in the margin. Suddenly, he bows his head and covers his eyes with his hand. My insides go cold. If he’s having problems with his vision, then it can only mean one thing – the cancer has spread to his brain, and that really would be game over.

  ‘Are you having trouble seeing, Alex?’ I ask softly.

  ‘No, just a bit dizzy,’ he replies.

  I let out a tell-tale sigh of relief and we both know why. Alex looks at me again and he seems to be really struggling.

  ‘Why don’t you let me read them to you? Then you can just sign them.’

  ‘Okay.’

  So I read and he listens. But he doesn’t just listen, he also changes almost everything and, as both an economist and a financial advisor, I agree with every one of his amendments: a penalty is too high; a payment schedule is too long; the penalty interest should be 0.01% per day of delay in line with generally accepted practice rather than 0.10%; and so on. I make the changes with a broad smile on my face because, despite the illness, despite his frailty and the endless chemicals and radiation going into his bloodstream, despite the constant fainting spells and the sickness, his brain is working perfectly. And it means that Tony is right – Alex is alive and well on the inside. His body has been weakened by the pneumonia and the aggressive treatment, but the cancer hasn’t reached his brain yet. We’re going to beat it!

  The course of treatment finally comes to an end and we’ve made it through. Alex is barely alive, thin, weak, and hardly moves. He is quiet and sleeps almost all the time, but he’s alive. The vomiting and nausea have stopped, and he needs to start eating again and get stronger. My task now is to feed him. He still can’t eat, but Tony has forbidden the drip bags, otherwise Alex’s body will forget how to nourish itself.

  I spoon-feed Alex like he’s a child. It is difficult for him to swallow and I kiss him every time he manages. He has developed an aversion to all food, but he still has an appetite for some things – the warmth and taste of my lips, for example. And, all the time, he looks at me with his unwavering gaze.

  I am tired, exhausted by his illness, by the fear, stress and worry. I have children at home, my children. Sonia is still small and it’s November now. She could get ill anytime with flu or something else and need her mother. They call me almost every day and it tears me apart. I try my best to keep it from Alex and, when they ring, I hide somewhere to speak to them, going out onto the terrace or locking myself in my bedroom and then the bathroom. I really need to go home – my husband stopped talking to me a while ago and, if I was him, I’d be asking for a divorce – but I can’t. I can’t leave Alex yet. I know he is only alive because I want him to be. Without me, there would be no him. I have a duty to see it through to the end no matter what.

  Slowly, really slowly, so slowly that I run out of both strength and patience, he gets stronger. I make him weigh himself and keep a note of it. His weight goes up fairly sluggishly, but at least it’s heading in the right direction. His hair has started to grow back, his skin is no longer so pale, and the bruises on his neck, wrists and the crooks of his arms from all the endless needles finally faded to yellow and disappeared. Every day, we go for a walk along the coast, staying close to the house at first, then venturing a little further each time. He is coming back to life before my very eyes and... blossoming.

  It’s November and, although we dress as warmly as possible, Alex still catches a chill from the cold sea breeze. He falls ill again, and I go back to being terrified. I make him drink cups and cups of herbal tea, but we’re not taking any risks and Tony prescribes a course of antibiotics. Once again, I inject medicine into him and, once again, he virtually stops eating, and it seems at this moment that my exhausting task will never end, but fate has other plans.

  CHAPTER 21. GRATITUDE

  ‘What is more forgetful than gratitude?’

  Friedrich Schiller

  *** ‘Drifting’ by ON AN ON ***

  It’s the middle of December; almost a month has passed since the treatment finished. Alex has already gained a fair amount of weight, he can drive his car again, his eating is still poor but good enough, and I’m trying my best to supervise his recovery. I keep track of his every move and he obediently does what I ask. It seems he’s enjoying being mothered and is in no hurry for it to stop. But he’s in a strange state of mind, very weird, as if he’s constantly asleep while awake. We hardly talk at all. All kinds of thoughts are rolling around in my head, but I try to ignore them and just get on with my job. My very difficult job.

  A check-up, scan and blood test show that the cancer has given up.

  I’m the happiest person in the universe. It’s finally over! We did it!

  We have just returned from a walk and, for the first time in a long time, I spent it admiring Alex: his hair is still short but growing back nicely and he is starting to look more like himself again. I got used to his thin body, but without his hair, which he always wore quite long in loose, playful curls, Alex looked different. Still beautiful, but not quite so attractive. He is becoming himself again, hot and sexy with the face of a god.

  The walk was different than usual. The time we spend together, whether outside or in, is normally one continuous silence – we communicate with looks – but not today. Today, we had the conversation we should have had the day that Mark visited.

  We are standing by the water’s edge, looking out at the sea, when Alex suddenly says, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you by giving you the apartment. I’m really sorry.’

  I spend a long time thinking about my answer.

  ‘You know, I once heard you call Mark an idiot and I completely agree with you.’

  ‘Don’t be angry with him, he didn’t say anything t
o me.’

  ‘So just a wild guess, then?’

  ‘I overheard your conversation.’

  ‘How?’

  Alex is silent, thinking about what to say.

  ‘What else did you hear?’

  ‘I heard everything.’

  ‘My God!’ I cover my face with my hands, horrified. ‘Why?! Why? Why? So much was said that you weren’t supposed to hear, especially then!’

  ‘You’re wrong. Eavesdropping on conversations like that can open your eyes to many things.’

  ‘I thought people like you were too well-mannered to eavesdrop! So I guess you weren’t all that helpless then. I didn’t think you could even get out of bed by yourself!’

  ‘When the woman who means everything to you is alone with another man, you find the strength from somewhere. But that’s not the point.’

  ‘So what is?’

  ‘I completely agree with everything Mark said, but he underestimated my mental capacity. I do have a will and it includes only decent people, those I care about the most. Your name is in there, but I put it there long before I got ill. And when I die someday, I want you to come down out of the clouds and accept what I want you to have. It is my will and my desire, so at least treat them with respect and understanding.’

  I don’t know what to say. We’re afraid to look each other in the eye. And when we get back from the walk, we are both still reeling from the conversation. I ask Alex to weigh himself and head to the kitchen to make lunch, where I’m surprised to discover... Hannah!

  ‘Just the person I was looking for!’ she says with a venomous smile. ‘Speak of the devil and he shall appear,’ she says in Russian. ‘That’s what you say, isn’t it?’ Her look is defiant. ‘You can’t imagine how grateful we all are to you for looking after Alex. You must be exhausted! We should let you go home. It wouldn’t be right to keep you here any longer!’

  ‘I think it would be worth me sticking around for a while, until he’s completely recovered.’

  ‘No, I insist. He is already much stronger; I think we can handle it from here.’