by J Wells
Not having the strength to argue, I snuggle down in the quilt and unknowingly fall asleep.
“Someone needs to ring the hospital. Look at her; she’s far worse than she was an hour ago.” Adrianna’s voice drowns out the others, who are talking in mere whispers.
I want to join in, but I can’t; I can’t even open my eyes.
“Keep it down,” Dad butts in. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that hearing is the last sense to go?”
I can hear Adrianna’s intermittent sobs. “What are you saying, Dad?”
“Get Logan out of the room.” He clears his throat. “Gabriel’s downstairs waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Bear with me. I’ve got no signal, so I’m going to pop outside and ring your mother. She needs to get here as quickly as possible.”
I hear footsteps and the door closing. I try, but I can’t seem to prise my eyes open. I could scream, but I can’t even do that. Never in my life have I felt so vulnerable or so alone.
Then I feel a hand resting on mine, followed by Danielle’s voice.
“You missed Christmas, Natasha, but we were all here with you; we even sat eating our turkey dinner round the bed, and after Christmas pudding we opened our presents. Oh yes, and before I forget, thanks for mine. I loved the basque and suspenders, though you should have seen your dad’s face when I pulled them out of the gift-wrapped box. Better still, you should have seen Adrianna’s.” Danielle laughs out loud, though very quickly her laughter ebbs. “But your present…” There’s a long pause. “Your present was purposely kept till last. We were all standing round willing for you to open your eyes, but you never did… So I guess you never got to see your special gift from Gabriel. You might not be able to feel it right now, but it’s on your finger, your left hand; it’s a beautiful white-gold eternity ring. Told you your bloke was a fucking pussy. His eyes were red and he had to leave the room; he blamed the heating, saying it was far too warm and drying the air, but there was no doubt he was snivelling. But joking aside, I don’t think you have any idea how much that bloke of yours loves you.”
Her words feel like a heavy weight; they hit me so hard, because ‘I love you’ were those three little words I never said to him.
“I think someone’s coming,” she tells me. The next moment she’s squeezing my hand. “It’s okay, it’s okay for you to go to sleep.”
“Open the curtains and the window, it’s starting to snow!” Gabriel’s voice is a loud echo in my ears.
“The way she is, you’ve got to be joking,” Danielle spits out. “Have you any idea how cold it is outside?”
I hate being talked about and unable to reply. The next moment I feel hands beneath me and I am being lifted into somebody’s arms; they are Gabriel’s. As I’m pulled close, I immediately know the firmness of his chest and the sweet scent of his aftershave.
“Do as I’ve asked, will you?”
I’m being shaken, and then hear the words, “Please, Natasha, wake up, wake up.”
With every ounce of strength I have left, I force my eyes to open, begging to be released from this perpetual darkness. I manage to gaze out between my sparse lashes and am immediately blinded by the brightest light. As my eyes wander, they are drawn towards my portrait. It looks like Gabriel got his way after all, for it’s no longer propped up against the wardrobe but is hanging on the wall to my left. I don’t know how to explain what I’m seeing, but the longer I stare, the brighter the light seems to become and the closer the portrait seems to get.
I’m burning up, my hands stretched out at my sides. I’m skipping through long grasses, weaving between an abundance of bright red poppies. I’m actually standing in the middle of my own portrait, in the middle of poppy fields. A lady in old-fashioned attire twirling a parasol behind her head walks my way, holding the hand of a young boy. How is it possible for me to be standing in the middle of a Monet painting? I’m gazing up at the blue sky and the clouds within it. I kneel down to feel the grasses; do they really exist? Pulling up a few blades and rubbing them between my fingers, I realise they’re real enough. What should I do? What else can I do other than continue to walk? I stand and spin round on the spot. Is this really what death looks like? Everything’s so beautiful. Am I walking through heaven?
I pass a large oak tree. Leaning against a lush green hedgerow, a beautiful lady in a flowing pink gown sits reading. I have to stop and look again. Her bonnet and the expression on her face are so familiar. I step back. I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t bring to mind where. I saunter away, bemused.
Poppies was a picture Nan had for years, hung on the wall in the bedroom where Adrianna and I used to stay overnight. I remember she used to kiss us goodnight and sit on the double bed between us, making up stories about the painting. The house in the distance was a magical one and only a select few were allowed to enter. The closer we’d walk towards it, the further away it would get…
Wherever it is I find myself, this is no story, for with every step I take the house gets visibly closer. I squint and blink my eyes. I can make out the windows with their wooden shutters, and the curling white smoke that billows from the chimney. I’m standing mere feet away. I reach for the handle and turn it; the door swings open. My nan is standing in the doorway, but she doesn’t open her arms for me to run into; in fact she doesn’t welcome me into the house at all and stands dismissively shaking her head.
Beads of sweat ooze from my palms; there’s no rhythm to the beat of my heart, it is just pounding. I step away and close my eyes, squeezing them tightly together. Wake up, wake up, Natasha, for God’s sake, wake up, I’m telling myself.
“Wake up, Natasha, wake up.”
I can feel tiny creases furrowing on my forehead and my eyelids begin to flicker. I’m not sure if this is real, but I’m opening my eyes to tiny patterned snowflakes drifting into sight and then slipping from view. I can only begin to wonder which part of heaven I’m in now. The fluttering of a robin’s wings causes me to lift my head.
I feel fingers brushing against my cheek and a slight jolt as my head is turned. I blink up into Gabriel’s widening eyes. Bypassing him I see faces. I squint. I can make out Dad, and Adrianna standing at his side. I’m forced to blink again, for if I’m not mistaken the person standing next to Adrianna is Mum.
“If you wouldn’t mind, could you all step outside for a moment? I’d like a little time alone with Natasha.”
I watch as one by one they filter their way out of the door and Mum closes it behind her. I’m lying back in Gabriel’s lap, wrapped in a cream embroidered candlewick. Although warm, there’s a chill in the air as a cool breeze slips inside from an open window.
I glance up at Gabriel’s face, which is expressionless; he is so close to tears. He says nothing to me, as if he’s lost for words; he just stares at me, his eyes wandering across my face.
Was everything before just a dream, or did I die and come back? Maybe it was just a glimpse of what’s to come. Whatever it was, I’m not scared; if anything, I’m feeling rather humbled by such an uplifting experience.
“Gabriel…”
He sits straight-faced, and I reach for his chin.
“Gabriel, there’s something I need to tell you. I lo…”
His fingers press against my lips.
“No you don’t,” he utters. “You’ve never said those words to me before, and you saying them now is a sign of you giving up, and that’s something I’ll never let you do. I think that chill of yours has turned to pneumonia, that’s what the paramedics seemed to think when I rang them earlier.”
“Paramedics?”
“Yes, Danielle’s letting them in as we speak.”
“Gabriel…”
“Shhh, we’ve only got a few minutes. I thought I’d lost you,” he says, silencing me. “I’m not too proud to admit that I need you in my life. I can’t sit here with you in my arms and watch you disappear. There’s so much more to us, so much more I want to see with you than the first snowflakes of winter. Wh
en they’ve treated the pneumonia and you’re starting to feel better, please, for me, for all your family, promise me you’ll give the treatment one more go.”
I feel my left hand being lifted from the soft embroidered candlewick and squeezed tightly within the confines of Gabriel’s hand. Then very slowly, he turns the eternity ring round and round on my finger.
I manage the weakest of smiles and search for his free hand, my eyes not wanting to move from his own.
“Okay,” I whisper.
A middle-aged receptionist wearing dark-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose sits behind her desk and ticks off another patient from her list of afternoon appointments. A young woman, I’m guessing about my age, pushes the door open and walks out of the scan room. A few minutes later, a nurse in a blue uniform appears, holding a clipboard. She looks down at the paper in front of her and then around the waiting room, before calling out for a Mrs Roberts. A blonde-haired lady with a light caramel complexion gets up from her chair and follows the nurse into a small sideroom.
I break into a smile as I feel Gabriel’s hand slip into mine. Thank God I listened to him. Waking up from my vivid dream had somehow thrown a different perspective on things and given me a new sense of purpose in my life. As Nan stood peering out from the doorway, shaking her head, she was telling me in no uncertain terms to get my arse back home and fight this awful cancer. It took a couple of weeks, but with a lot of TLC from Gabriel and the rest of my family I managed to ward off the pneumonia, and bit by bit I built up my strength. When I felt mentally ready, I got in touch with the hospital and told them I would go ahead and have the chemo and any other treatment that they thought might help.
I see Mum waving at me from the vending machine, holding a plastic cup in her hand.
“Tea or coffee?” she calls.
“Tea, please,” I reply, giving her the thumbs up.
Looking at Gabriel, she grins. “I won’t ask you.”
He grins back, rocking a bottle of sparkling water between his knees. Adrianna is sitting with a magazine propped on her lap, in which both her and Danielle seem totally engrossed.
I smile to myself, thinking back to how they all insisted on accompanying me to the treatment, making it more like a day out than a hospital appointment, but I guess they wanted to make sure I didn’t have second thoughts. I felt light-headed when they’d finished with me, so we took a slow walk towards the elevator. Dad went on ahead and waited downstairs in the hospital foyer. When we arrived on the ground floor he was clearly baffled by the parking machine, as he stood scratching his head and tapping the heel of his shoe on the floor. My sister strode over to assist. Feeling a sudden lack of energy, I lowered myself down on a bench near the exit. I caught sight of a lady with a red tin collecting for charity. I looked at the pink ribbons tied in her hair and at her face, and could have sworn it was the same lady I saw a few years back when I came with Adrianna for her twenty-week pregnancy scan. I sat for another few minutes until I saw Dad looking a little happier, holding up the parking tickets in his hand. I unzipped my bag and emptied the contents onto my lap. Holding onto my loose change, I ambled towards the lady who was now shaking her tin. I smiled at her and she smiled back as I fed my coins into the small slot on top. I told her I’d be back but she frowned, obviously not remembering me. Mum walked over and emptied every last penny out of her purse, then Dad and Gabriel went through their pockets; we all did our bit. Eight treatments later, I kissed Derby General goodbye. Any visits after that would be merely follow-ups and the occasional blood test to check on my progress.
The 4th May 2016 was a time for celebration; the tumour that had been growing on the wall of my stomach had shrunk dramatically and better still, there were no signs of it spreading to more distant parts of my body. When the oncologist sat us down in his office and used the word ‘remission’, I had to get him to repeat the word to me at least four times because it just wouldn’t sink in. Gabriel made a complete ass of himself; he jumped out of his seat, marched behind Mr Graman’s desk, picked him up out of his leather chair and swung him round in his arms. There was no missing the look of shock in the specialist’s eyes when he was returned to his feet, though the awkwardness didn’t last long and he shook Gabriel by the hand. Five years was a long wait for the all-clear, but for now remission was good enough for me. Each morning I woke up was another morning I never thought I’d see.
A nudge to my arm brings me back from my thoughts as Mum passes me a cup of tea.
“Thanks, Mum.”
It’s too hot to hold, so I place it down on the table next to me, filled with magazines.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, hearing Danielle giggling.
“Nothing, just a joke between the two of us.”
Adrianna smiles, though doesn’t elaborate.
“What’s so interesting? You’ve been looking through the pages of that magazine for the last half an hour.” I try to squint over and see for myself. “That wouldn’t be a holiday magazine, would it?”
“Nosey,” Danielle says, tapping the side of her nose. “Yeah, we’re looking into holidays. We’re set on Turkey, Marmaris; we thought it’d give Asim a chance to meet his son in person. He only gets to Skype us once a week and has been asking for a while if we could fly out there at some point.”
“I had no idea you were back in touch.”
“I found the ‘Likes’ page for the bar his brother works at and tracked him down from there. I think it’ll be nice for Logan to have his dad in his life, and we’ll get a bloody good holiday.”
“Yes, we sure will,” Mum pipes up.
“Don’t go getting ahead of yourself,” Adrianna butts in. “We’re only taking you and Dad along as babysitters.”
Mum rolls up a magazine she’s reading and waltzes over to Adrianna, slapping her on the shoulder. Adrianna giggles, grabs it off her and slaps her back. The tension between them had reduced a lot, and now there’s a natural banter to their light-hearted conversation.
I never thought I’d see the day when they’d spend more than five minutes in the same room without arguing, yet now, the long-term rift between them has been replaced by far happier times. She dotes on her little grandson, and our family is gradually beginning to repair itself.
Sitting here with Mum today feels like I’m sitting with a totally different person. I think when I told her I was in remission it gave her the strength to face her demons and the determination to fight her alcohol addiction. She spent six weeks in the South of Devon at a rehab facility. When she finally returned home, her treatment continued with weekly meetings, which she wasn’t too pleased about to begin with, but she was happy when she found out they were being held at the local library and happier still when Dad showed his support by agreeing to attend with her.
It was so strange actually seeing Mum and Dad happy together. When we all turned up for dinner on a Wednesday evening, Mum was bustling in and out of the kitchen wearing an apron. I had to rub my eyes, as Mum cooking was a miracle in itself! But she no longer only cooked on a Wednesday evening; in fact she seemed to take pride in the house, and cooked most days of the week, giving Dad a chance to relax and watch his sport. The way he looked at her now, it was like he was seeing her through different eyes. They’d giggle together, hold hands, and the next thing I heard they were going out and having fun. The only thing that seemed to be suffering was the garden, as it was never quite so pristine again. As for Sylvia, she never received another invite from Mum.
“Have you two thought about going anywhere?” Danielle quizzes.
“No, not as things stand; I think we’ll just tootle down to London once a month. It’s a break and we enjoy it.”
Talking of London, Gabriel had kissed the capital goodbye. We pop down for monthly visits, and though my first impression of Jase wasn’t particularly good, he’s sort of grown on me. Gabriel re-mortgaged the house in Matlock and paid Jase half of their dad’s inheritance money. This allowed him to move out of his boat
and into a flat not far from his mum. His boat then became a weekend retreat for either him or us.
Larry and I packed our belongings, and moved out of Mum and Dad’s and in with Gabriel. We redecorated throughout, turning the makeshift gym into a comfortable lounge. Gabriel looked so proud the next day when he returned home with a plasma TV. He got rid of loads of old stuff that he’d collected over the years, but a couple of things he wouldn’t part with were Mr Pooch’s lead and food bowl. He never said it in so many words, but I knew one day he still thought she’d come home.
“Mrs Cartwright-Smith,” the sonographer calls.
Adrianna grins at Danielle, and they both look up.
“Which one?” they ask.
“Danielle,” she utters.
“Here goes…” Danielle squeaks, pulling Mum and Adrianna up by the hand.
“Good luck,” I call out, crossing my fingers and holding them up.
No one would understand how good it felt to walk past the Oncology Department in Derby General; my steps were so high off the ground I could have been moonwalking.
I watch intently as the door to the scan room closes behind them. After three rounds of IVF, Danielle told everyone they were expecting another baby, a sister or brother for Logan. I was so excited knowing I was to become an aunty for the second time.
“So, what do you think?” Gabriel asks, crossing his arms.
“If you’re asking my opinion, I predict a girl.”
“Nah, I can’t see them with a girl somehow; my prediction’s a boy.”
As long as it’s healthy I don’t think they care, though secretly I’m sure Adrianna would love a little girl.
It was a case of twiddling our thumbs while we waited. Eventually, Mum waltzes through and Danielle’s a couple of steps behind, waving a small blue teddy. Typical of Adrianna; I never even saw her smuggle it in.
I walk over to hug and congratulate her.
“Go on.” She hugs me back, half turns and beckons Gabriel. “Go on,” she repeats, “Adrianna’s waiting.”
