by J Wells
My shoulders fall. “How long’s a piece of string? If I’m lucky, maybe six months, but the way I’m feeling at the moment I doubt it.”
“For God’s sake, Natasha, wake up! The hospital’s offered you more treatment, you should be grabbing it with both hands.”
“Easy for you to say. I’ve had three courses of chemo, and for what? It’s not working.” I look away from Gabriel and down at my feet. “I can’t go through it all again for nothing.”
“Where there’s life there’s hope; you’ve got a life, don’t go giving up on it! You’re still here, it’s not giving up on you.” He screws up his face and stares down at me. “You don’t look ill; you don’t look like a person who has cancer.”
Sliding Larry off my lap, I sit him at my side and open my coat.
“How’s a person with cancer supposed to look?”
His eyes almost stand out from his head.
“Christ, Tash, you’re like a bag of bones. I never noticed it before, because you were wrapped up in a dressing gown. But…” he stutters. “I still can’t believe…”
He’s not the only one, or maybe I don’t want to believe. I slip off my chestnut wig.
“So is this how a person with cancer is meant to look?”
He stands open-mouthed.
“Say something, damn you!” I spit out, but he says nothing.
“You’re staring at me the exact same way Josh did only a matter of hours ago.”
He thrusts his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“You told him,” he huffs, “yet you had no intention of telling me; nice one.”
“No, Gabriel, I had no intention of telling anyone, and as for Josh, I didn’t tell him, he just found out.”
I roll my eyes and feel my cheeks redden as I remember the way I stormed past Josh and he accidently pulled the towel off my head. I think it was the shock that stopped him from saying what was on the tip of his tongue, but I could see in his eyes that he already knew.
“How come you’re getting all pally with him again? Didn’t things work out with Michelle? Are you two back on, so to speak?”
“You’ve got to be kidding, that’s the last thing on my mind. I invited him round to ask a favour. I wanted him to take Larry, coz where I’m going, my little dog can’t come.” My throat burns as I choke out my words.
He reaches his hands out for me to take, but I push them away and swallow hard.
“Gabriel, don’t, I don’t need your sympathy.”
Retrieving his hands, he straightens himself into an awkward stance.
“So when’s he calling round to pick him up?”
I sigh, ruffling Larry’s short hair. “He isn’t. Michelle doesn’t want a dog round the house now they have a daughter.”
“Oh…” There’s a noticeable softening in his voice. “You could have asked me; I’m not keen on dogs as you know, but Larry’s okay.”
I hear children’s voices in the distance and catch sight of a young family walking their dog. I don’t feel I can cope with people’s stares, so straighten my wig between my fingers and place it back on my head. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to wearing it; it makes my head constantly hot and itchy. My gaze follows Gabriel as he walks around the bench. It’s as if he needs time to think what to say, before he eventually sits down and shuffles up to Larry.
“So, the cancer,” he utters in a low voice, “when did you find out?”
“I was diagnosed in February.”
I breathe in deeply and think back. I remember how bloated my stomach looked; initially I bought a pregnancy test from the chemist on the cruise ship, and everyone kept congratulating me on the baby I wasn’t having. I just laughed it off, thinking it was the amount of food I’d eaten over Christmas. Though on reflection I realised I hadn’t actually eaten that much. I mentioned it to Darcy and questioned myself, as my periods were all over the place. Darcy said I could be pregnant. I did a test the following day, but it came back negative; I did a couple more just to be on the safe side and got the same result. I sat in my cabin and rang Adrianna, who told me to come straight home and go to the doctors to get checked out.
“Ovarian cancer is supposedly known as the silent killer. Apparently, the backache, stomach cramps and loss of appetite I’d been experiencing for the months prior were all symptoms. I just thought it was stress from the breakup with Josh and backache from the decorating. I never thought for one moment I was ill.”
“Your dad mentioned the chemo, radiotherapy and your operation.”
I find myself forcing a smile. I slip my hand inside my coat, lift my jumper and rub my fingers across the uneven scar on my stomach.
“Not that it matters now … but before they took everything away, I got the doctors to remove some of my eggs and had them frozen. Adrianna said that if and when I decided I wanted children, she’d be a surrogate for me.”
I pause, imagining myself pregnant. Adrianna and I would be sitting on the bed, glancing down at my scan picture. She’d be wittering on about the skull theory, and we’d sit perusing the shape of its forehead, then argue over the sex. It would be me who’d send her down the shops to buy red cabbage and bicarbonate powder. I’d take a reel of cotton from my sewing box and dangle a ring over my bump like we did when she was expecting Logan. She’s always been a stickler for old wives’ tales, whereas I on the other hand tended to poo-poo them, though silently was just as curious.
“So what treatment have the doctors advised?”
I shake my head. “I’ve decided against any more treatment. Jenny, my Macmillan nurse, visits me every day; she’s a remedy in herself.”
“That’s bullshit! All the trials they’re doing in America, book yourself on a flight, I’ll come with you if you want. Believe me, Tash, there is something out there, and if it costs mega money don’t worry, because every penny I have is yours.”
His fingers are warm and comforting as they slip into mine. I allow them to stay for a moment, but no longer. What’s the point? I picture our feelings like a ribbon being pulled taut between us, and my heart aching as the scissors cut through it.
“Don’t you get it, Gabriel? There is no America, there’s no point. My only wish is that I spend my last Christmas at home surrounded by my family, the people I love.”
“Bullshit, Natasha, you’re giving up. This doesn’t have to be your last Christmas!” He’s literally bouncing on the bench, he’s that hyped up. “You need to get off your arse and fight this while you still can. Just listen to yourself, you’re not even trying anymore.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Okay, Dr Owen, when did you qualify as an oncologist?” I snap, resting my head in my hands. “Look, if I was strong enough to fight this, don’t you think I would? I had my ovaries and my womb removed, but it was too late, it had already spread to my stomach. The cancer’s aggressive, my nan had the same; she fought it and had months of treatment, but medicine can’t perform miracles.”
“Miracles? But you’re still in your twenties, damn it; this isn’t fair. Why you?”
“Why not me?” I answer coldly.
“You’ve got so much of life left to see … and so much of life I wanted to show you.”
He gets to his feet, staring down.
“You pushed and pushed for me to have my operation, you wouldn’t let it lie, you made damn sure I went ahead and I had my sight restored, for what?” He kicks out at the leg of the bench. “So I can stand by and watch you die?”
“No, that won’t be happening. I’m not going to be a burden to anyone, and I’m certainly not asking you to stick around till the end and watch me take my last breath. It’s only a matter of time before you move on with your life and meet someone else; you might miss me initially, but you’ll get over me … you’ll cope.”
“Are you fucking serious?” His watery-blue eyes stray. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I’ll tell you what…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been envisioning u
s, being with you every day for the rest of my life. And finally, having my sight I wanted to see all those little things that other people miss… The smile on your lips when you’re happy and the frown that falls on your face when I’m being a dick. I wanted to know you inside and out, every line, every crease, every stretch mark when you gained a couple of pounds, and instead all I’m going to see is a plot of land where you’ll be in that small grave all alone without me. Tell me that’s fair, and tell me how the fuck do I cope? How do I get over you when you’re gone?”
“Don’t make us more than we were, a weekend in London, because at the end of the day that’s all it was, sex and a couple of days together.”
“It wasn’t just sex, Natasha, and you know it.”
He turns my head so I’m forced to face him. Tears well up in my eyes.
“It was far more than that.” His fingers tilt my chin. “God damn it, I loved you then and I love you now. Do I need to spell it out?”
I pull away and look down into my lap.
“You know what?” I glance back up. “I think in time, if we’d had enough of it, I could have loved you back.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes bypass me. I guess it’s the slam of a car door that steals his attention. He frowns, and I turn to see why. Dad almost trips over his feet as he makes his way over to join us.
“Tash, I’m so sorry,” he pants, trying to get his breath back. “I had to talk to someone, and Gabriel was just there at the right time.”
“You shouldn’t have said anything, you shouldn’t have told him.”
My focus is back on Gabriel.
“Can’t you see? Your dad can’t cope. Stop bottling everything up, and stop pushing away the people who love you. We’re here, so let us in.”
Dad’s hand rests on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Do you still plan on going to London this evening?”
His eyes settle on mine, though I quickly look away.
“I guess that’s up to Natasha.”
Wet cheek, wet nose.
“Yuk, Larry!”
I wipe the drool from my face. With my eyes tightly closed, my arms feel their way round him. Locking my fingers, I hug his little squat body into my chest. Within a couple of minutes he wriggles free. I hear the catch of the bedroom door and so reach beneath my head, throwing my feather pillow over my face.
“Breakfast is served, cooked by my own fair hands,” Gabriel jokes, dragging the pillow off me, which I fight to reclaim by hugging it into my stomach.
Bacon, eggs and a steaming cup of tea await me on a tray decorated with a couple of shiny green holly leaves and vibrant red berries, making breakfast look particularly festive. My eyes flash to the wall and Gabriel’s New York calendar: 10th December. I can’t believe it’s only two days until Adrianna and Danielle tie the knot and fifteen until Christmas Day.
I don’t dare tell Gabriel how bad I’m feeling this morning, as I know he’d confine me to bed and that’s something I don’t want. Life’s for living, and the little time I have left I don’t intend on wasting. I never realised how much of life I’d taken for granted until now. No matter how long I lie here and how many different ways I look at things, I can’t get into my head that one morning in the not too distant future I won’t wake up again, won’t see the sun shining in through my window and won’t moan about the rain when I have to dash up the road to walk Larry. I smile at the thought of spring, in my opinion the prettiest season of all, with its yellow daffodils and colourful crocuses. I swallow hard and wonder if I’ll get to see them again.
“Natasha, your breakfast.”
I shake my head and rid my mind of the nostalgic thoughts.
“Please stop fussing over me and go have your shower.” I stretch my arms above my head. “I’ll eat in a minute when I’ve woken up.”
He nudges the tray closer. “It’ll be cold, and when it’s cold, bacon goes hard.”
I give him an unsavoury stare, and he shoots out of the bedroom. I can’t even look at let alone stomach the congealed egg and thick rashers. I wait, listening for running water, and a few minutes more for the shower to warm up. Larry’s eyes follow me as I push the tray off my legs to the far side of the bed. Hearing Gabriel start to sing, I know I’ve got a while, so lean forward and rip the bacon and egg into pieces. Larry eats out of my hands, then licks the plate clean.
I wipe my hands and his mouth with a tissue.
“Our little secret, so no licking your lips when Gabriel comes in,” I warn him with a wag of my finger.
It would be so easy for me to put my head on the pillow and fall back to sleep. For the last week sleep has become more of an easy habit, only having to sit down for my eyes to close. It’s also becoming much harder to hide the way I feel behind a smile. The painkillers have been increased considerably, but they don’t seem to be doing much and daily life is becoming quite a struggle. I’ve hidden the scales under my bed, mainly to stop Gabriel pestering me to get on them. He watches me pick at my food, but I can’t help it since my appetite’s non-existent. I hide what I’ve become under baggy shirts and trousers, and weigh myself in private. Though he’s on at me constantly, I’m so glad to have him back in my life. I can’t fault his tenacity; he scours the Web for hours at a time while I lie in bed.
Last Tuesday while he was out walking Larry, I turned on the laptop and checked his browser history, and saw that every webpage contained home remedies and clinical trials for different types of cancer. I gave a wry smile, realising he still thinks he can save me.
Hearing the toilet being flushed, I lift my cup, lean back on my pillow and sip my tea as Gabriel waltzes back into the bedroom. All he wears is a black bath towel around his shoulders. My eyes drop below the towel to his taut abs and tapered waist, then blush as my gaze dips a little lower. All my happy memories of London resurface; that’s when I really got to know Gabriel and he really got to know me. There were no hands that had ever explored me in quite the way his did during our weekend together. Having Gabriel inside me felt so right; the lust, the passion shared between us, we had it all, and now all I have is a sympathetic kiss on the forehead and his arms wrapped around me, creating a peaceful haven in which to fall asleep.
“You ate it then?”
I nod, look at Larry and try my best to keep a straight face. “Yes, it was lovely, thank you.”
I flinch, shielding my eyes as he pulls back the curtains. Squinting between my fingers, I watch him pick up my mirror and dishevelled wig from the bedside table.
“Thanks.” I smile up at him and take them.
He leans down and kisses my lips, then slips on his jersey boxers and lowers himself onto the side of the bed. If things were different and I didn’t feel so unwell, I’d have grabbed that sexy ass of his and pulled him back into bed. But that’s not going to be happening today. I lift the mirror and glance at myself. I shudder at my reflection staring back at me.
“Gabriel…” I clench the quilt between my hands. “Where have I gone?”
He half grins. “You’ve gone nowhere, you’re right here with me,” he says, though I know he’s trying to make light of my words.
I release the quilt and begin to trace the outline of my face on the glass.
“No, that’s not me looking back.” I look into dark-rimmed eyes, sunken cheeks and greyish-blonde hair that sprouts up from my scalp in no particular direction. “It’s some strange woman I see. Please, Gabriel, make her go away.” I close my eyes and wish. “Make her disappear and bring back Tash.”
The next moment his arms surround me, and as I try to manoeuvre myself away he pulls me closer.
“I’m no good to you, I’m no good to anyone. I just don’t get it; why are you sticking around when you’ve only been with me for five minutes?”
“You can’t put a time on falling in love with someone. I know we haven’t been together ten years like you and Josh were, but that doesn’t matter, because cancer or not, I love you and I don’t intend on going anywhere.”
He draws me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. “It doesn’t take a ring or contract to keep me round; you’ve got to believe me when I say I’m here for keeps.”
I wriggle myself free, pulling on my wig.
“Take no notice, it’s just me being silly.”
He takes my hand in his, squeezing my fingers.
“You are allowed to show emotion.” His head tilts slightly. “You are allowed to get upset.”
“No,” I protest, trying to get off the bed. “I’m just being silly.”
I’ve watched other people cry when I sat them down and told them about the cancer. I’ve held them while they’ve cried and I’ve wiped away their tears, yet funnily enough it’s something I haven’t done myself; I don’t think I can. I pause for a second in thought. Maybe I believe that if I don’t cry, then none of this can be real.
“Take me someplace nice today,” I blurt out.
His face appears through the neck of his cream T-shirt as he pulls it over his head.
“I could always pop round after your dress fitting.”
I roll my eyes. “The dress fits; I don’t know why Adrianna’s flapping the way she is.”
He stands with his legs apart, belting up his jeans.
“She’s getting married in a couple of days and just wants everything to be perfect.”
I check the time.
“It’s eleven o’clock, you should have woken me earlier.”
“I couldn’t,” he utters, straightening the pillows on the bed. “I just sat and watched you, you looked so peaceful sleeping. Just didn’t seem right to disturb you.”
“I knew it was a bad idea me stopping over last night,” I say as I stumble across the bedroom floor and pull on my clothes, my mind in a panic. “Adrianna was getting to Mum and Dad’s for ten o’clock. God, she’ll be stressing by now.”
Larry jumps off the bed and pushes his head against my legs. I crouch down to pick him up.
“Sorry, boy, you won’t be lonely for long; you’ll be joining Mr Pooch in your new home in a couple of weeks.”
