Paul comes back with two beers and my Coke. “Connor called you a pussy,” he laughs.
“Connor wouldn’t know pussy if it was wrapped round his face,” I say and something slots into place with me. I’ve been Mr. Crawford for so long I forgot that there was another me inside. One that I traded in to get where I wanted to go. But it feels good to be Gossy again.
“Now there’s the Ryan we fucking miss,” Ronan says banging the table so hard the drinks jump.
For the next couple of hours we talk about old time and I smile more than I have in a very long time. Darryl sits in the corner reading a paper so discreetly that Paul and Ronan never even notice him. Then, when it’s time to go, I message for my car to pick me up and I have to do what I came for. I have to say goodbye.
We all stand and it feels awkward. Like those moments after the first time you fuck someone new, when you’ve sweated all over them but somehow talking to them seems like a massively intimate thing. I reach out and pull Paul into a hug. It’s less man-show this time and he pats my shoulder as though he can tell this is a big thing for me. It’s the same with Ronan.
“You’re coming back?” Ronan says, slapping my cheek in a way that people do with cute kids.
“You missing me already?” I say.
“This will always be your home, Ryan. You fucking remember that.”
My throat is so damn tight. These men were like my brothers once upon a time.
“I will. You take care.”
Walking out of that shit hole of a pub is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. In the car I don’t waste any time. I’m on the phone to the specialist who treated Corina to get a referral for Darleen. She needs to see someone near home. It’ll be too difficult for them to manage if she needs to travel. Before I reach the airport I have the name of someone good enough and have booked her an appointment. They understand that any treatment she needs will be covered by me and that’s all that matters.
I’ll need to make those instructions official with my accountant. I send him a quick email to confirm and then I copy that to my attorney.
It’s only when I’m just about to board the plane that the PI calls me.
He’s seen Jessie. He’s found her.
Now I know what I need to do.
23
JESSIE
As I make my way home after my shift I get an uneasy feeling. It’s as though I’m being watched and I scan the street outside my apartment for anyone who might be there. I don’t see anything suspicious so I make my way inside.
It’s been this way for the past few days. I don’t know if it’s because I’m constantly having to avoid Donnie or the way the customers at the club are so much more willing to break house rules and touch. I dread the private dances. It’s a constant battle to keep things professional without being rude.
I’m not feeling myself. I think I must be getting my period so I got to the bathroom to check. There’s nothing there but I feel really tired. I’m guessing it’s just the stress and the fact it’s so late. Candy Club is open later so I’m getting less sleep.
I head to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I’m so hungry that I stand by the fridge to eat it, looking at the pictures there. I know it’s stupid but I printed out the one photo I have of me and Ryan together. Looking at it is hard. I’m so smiley and happy. His eyes are piercing, his lips uncertain. There’s such an intensity about him in the picture. I don’t know why I’m torturing myself with it. Days pass and my memories are fading with time. My heart doesn’t seem to be forgetting though. I miss him now more than ever.
I look over at the calendar. If I hadn’t left that day, we’d still be together. Day 28. I can’t imagine how I would have felt by now. If leaving was hard after spending only a few days together, what would it be like by this point. I don’t know if I would have been able to do it without him pushing me away. Day 28. I glance over at the calendar that hangs from a nail in the wall. I always mark when my period is due. With a job like mine I have to be extra vigilant, but with all the changes and the stress of starting a new job I hadn’t realized that I’m late. Not a lot. Around five days, but I’m never late.
My heart skitters. It’s probably just the stress. It can do funny things to a person’s body. After Jackson passed away, I didn’t get my period for three months. I was in such a fragile state that my body obviously didn’t feel it could add to my burden.
But what if it’s not?
It’s too late to go to the drug store and get a test, and I’m feeling tired as I usually do before I start. I decide to go to bed, convincing myself that it’s going to arrive by morning.
When the sun comes up I’m awake. I check inside my panties and find the pad I put on last night is pristine. No blood.
I get up and shower, going through the motions and pretending everything is okay. I decide to treat myself to breakfast at the coffee shop around the corner and have my favorite French toast and a gorgeous creamy hot chocolate. I read the papers pretending everything is perfectly normal and, when I’m full and relaxed saunter down to the drug store.
It’s only when I emerge, test in hand, that I get hit with what it might tell me.
I’m six days late.
I should take the test home but I can’t wait that long to know. I pop back into the coffee shop and use their restroom. I do something that I’ve never had reason to do before; I pee on a stick and hold it, waiting. I close my eyes and count until I’ve reached the required amount of time. I take a deep breath before I open them.
I’m pregnant.
I blink slowly. I look at the box again, holding my test alongside the example, making absolutely sure. I’m pregnant.
I sit in the bathroom for so long staring at the test, feeling utterly overwhelmed, that someone eventually bangs on the door. “Are you alright in there?” a voice calls.
“Yeah, sorry. Just not feeling the best. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I wrap the test in tissue and stash it in my purse. I clean myself up and make my way home, conscious of every step. Walking doesn’t feel the same. There’s something growing inside me. I’m now a vessel for another human being. Everything feels more serious.
Everything feels more desperate.
Oh my god. I’m not going to be able to work. Who’s going to want to look at a pregnant stripper? I’ve maybe got a couple of months before I start to properly show and after that…
What the hell am I going to do?
I can’t tell Ryan. He’s going to think that I did this on purpose to make some claim on his money. To save myself from the life I’ve been living off the back of an innocent life. I can’t risk him hating me because of this. I couldn’t bear it.
At home I lay on my bed and cry. I’m pregnant and alone. I put my hand over where I imagine the little person is developing and cry some more. This is what I always wanted. A child to love. A person to nurture and shape. There were days when I was married to Jackson when I’d drift off thinking about what our kids would look like. Would they have his dark eyes or my blue ones? His unruly hair or my soft blonde locks? I could picture our child with a button nose and rounded cheeks.
And now?
I get up to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I go over the fridge and take down the photo of me and Ryan. I take it back to bed with me and lay it on the pillow beside me.
This is the man who has stolen my heart. He’s the man who was supposed to give me my life back, to free me from the chains of debt so I could be myself again. He’s the man who has left me with a legacy that will last a lifetime.
There is no way I’d even think about terminating this pregnancy. I know I can be a good mom. I may not have a lot but I’ll do my best, always. I have family and now I guess I’m going to have to be honest with my sister. It has always been my choice to keep things from her, never that I thought she’d be judgmental. I know that she’ll support me through this.
I take hold of the photo and rest it on my belly. “He
re we are,” I whisper. “Your mommy and daddy. I know this isn’t the idea situation but I promise that I’m going to do my best for you no matter what.”
I start to make a plan. This isn’t something I can ignore. I need to buy vitamins and book an appointment with the right kind of doctor. I need to think about giving notice on this place and speaking to my sister. If she’ll have me, I could move in there.
I decide that I’m not going to cry about this anymore. A new life isn’t something to mourn. It’s something to celebrate. I do my chores for the morning, getting through the washing and some cleaning. I change my sheets and scrub out the tub. Then I focus on my paperwork. It’s all this that is what is weighing me down. Sitting at the counter I start to go through my unopened mail. Bill after bill. This is why I let them stack up without opening them. At the bottom there is a plain white envelope with a neatly typed name and address. I tear the envelope and pull out a typed out letter.
Dear Jessie,
When I woke up and you had left I was filled with too many conflicting emotions to articulate. Mostly disappointment that we weren’t going to spend the next twenty-five days together. I understand why you did, though. Maybe you thought I lied to you. Maybe not being open and upfront is as bad as a lie. I never meant to hurt you, Jessie.
I’ve spent the past weeks doing all the things that I had planned to do with you by my side, but it’s been half the experience it would have been if you’d been by my side.
You never came back to get your things. I was hopeful you would but now I’m realistic. I understand that you have your principles and I respect you for that.
I hope you realize that the time we spent together was more than just a simple transaction. You are special, Jessie. In ways that I never expected.
Maybe I’ll see you in our next lifetime and we’ll get more than just a handful of days to enjoy. I hope so.
For now, here is the money that you left behind. This is yours. I have many business interests and this hasn’t come from gambling. I hope that you take it and do what you planned.
I want you to understand that you made a difference to me, Jessie. Knowing you made me a better person, even if it was only for a short time. I am forever changed because you were in my life.
Ryan
Behind his heartfelt words is a check for fifty thousand dollars, signed with a flourish by Ryan himself.
My tears flow freely, dripping down onto my jeans and creating dark patches of my sorrow. There is something so final about his words. An acceptance that he’s never going to see me again, I suppose. I just…
I remember a film I watched once called ‘Sliding Doors.’ It showed a woman living two parallel lives; an exploration of what would happen to a person if they just hadn’t have missed that train when they did. All our decisions impact what happens next in our lives. Bend down to tie your shoelace and miss your bus and who knows what might be different in your life. I feel like that about Ryan. If I hadn’t left that day, where would we be now?
Maybe I would have felt like I could have told him about the pregnancy. Maybe he’d be happy.
But I’ll never know.
I have fifty thousand dollars in my hand. Fifty thousand dollars that Ryan wants me to have. Fifty thousand dollars that means I can have this baby without worrying about my financial position. I can give this baby a good start.
Ryan will never know but he’s done the most amazing thing.
He’s given me back my life and so much more.
I cry because I want to go to him so badly. I could slide into his arms and bury my head in this chest and absorb his strength. I could hold him tight and tell him that I love him and that I’m sorry. For hurting him, yes, but it’s more. For failing to be the person he needed. This isn’t Hollywood. A man like Ryan can’t be in a relationship with an ex-stripper, no matter how much he might want to. Bad publicity like that could ruin his business. I can’t be selfish about this.
I pull out a small card from my stationery. It’s a black and white postcard that I found in a thrift shop of a man and woman sitting on the bench. I’m sure it’s from the fifties because of the clothes they are wearing. It’s taken near the sea which is why I bought it in the first place. I hope that when Ryan receives it, he’ll remember that first day we went for a drive together and sat by the sea. He held my hand. I hope he remembers that too.
I don’t want to write much. I could never articulate how I feel about him in so few words or as eloquently as he did in his letter.
So I write,
Ryan,
Your name-sake once said that ‘freedom is a gift.’
Thank you for giving me mine.
You’ll recognize me next lifetime. I’ll be the one standing on a beach with my toes in the water and the wind in my hair. I’ll be the one who’ll turn because I’ll feel you there and know it’s you.
Jessie
I don’t waste any time. I take the check and the card put them in my purse. I head downtown so that I can put the check into my account. I post the card to the return address on the back of Ryan’s letter. I buy my vitamins and some good food; steak, fresh vegetables, salmon.
I call the Candy Club and tell them that I’m not coming in again.
The I call my sister and tell her everything.
24
Ryan
When Dr. Humberside called me to tell me that the shaking I’d begun to feel in my hands was the same thing that had put my ma in the ground, I knew.
There was no way I was going to suffer the way she had. I wasn’t going to lose my independence and my dignity. I wasn’t going to become a shadow of the man I was.
I decided that day that I’d allow myself a few months to tidy my affairs. I’d write a list of things I’d always meant to do but had put off and I’d tick them off. I’d face my fears and conquer them. I’d stick two fingers up at death because fuck him.
Fuck him for taking my ma and my wife.
Fuck him for bringing misery and hurt to world that could well do without it.
Life doesn’t always give you the choice of how you are going to die, but I was going to choose.
I suspected that Dr. Humberside knew. He must have been expecting me to do what I did with Corina; to rally all my resources to try and beat this thing. When I went quiet and didn’t answer his calls, maybe he thought I was burying my head in the sand. He agreed to give me a month because he didn’t have a choice.
Multiple sclerosis.
I knew from the first moment I felt the tremble in my hand that it was coming.
But not anymore.
I’ve done all of the things I set out to do. The company has a new leader waiting in the wings. I’ve tied up all the loose ends. I’ve made peace with my life in all the ways that I can. My affairs are in order.
I’ve written two of the most difficult letters I’ve ever had to write. One to Jessie because I couldn’t leave her without trying to make her life better. She deserved that much from me. One that will stay with me so that people can understand.
This is not me trying to suggest that people who are given this kind of diagnosis can’t have any quality of life. This is not me making any kind of statement about chronic illness or disability. This is about me and what I want from my own life. It’s about me making a choice to go before I suffer.
I know people won’t like this. I can see the headlines in the business section now.
Maybe they’ll say I had depression from losing Corina. Maybe they’ll say I was arrogant. Maybe they’ll say I’m weak.
I hope that when they read the letter they’ll understand.
Nobody wants to die alone. We all imagine being surrounded by our family and friends and slipping quietly away in the way that Hollywood shows us. The reality is that death is private. When it’s coming, nobody really understands. Everyone else is on the outside looking in.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep last night but I did. I am at peace.
I sit at
my desk and open the drawer. I take out the pills that I’ve accumulated and rest them on top. The fresh jug of water sits in front of me and I pour myself a big glass. I tuck the letter into the top pocket of my jacket and I begin to swallow the tablets slowly.
I am methodical. I am rhythm. I am life.
And when I am done, I lay on my bed and wait for death to take me.
25
JESSIE
There’s a man standing outside my building.
It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Darryl.
Darryl.
For a moment I’m confused. Is Ryan here? I look around but there’s no limo waiting, no car running. I look back at Darryl. His eyes are bloodshot, his shoulders hunched. This huge man looks broken.
I stop on the sidewalk. My legs won’t move me any further. I think at this moment I know. Ryan’s letter; ‘I’ll see you next lifetime.’ The list of things; it was a bucket list. Oh my god. Has something happened?
“Jessie,” he says.
I put my hand up to stop him. I don’t want to hear the words.
“You need to come with me.” His voice is gravely low.
“Why?” I ask, even as I fear the answer.
“Ryan’s in the hospital.”
And just like that my world falls apart.
26
Ryan
I know that something isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be seeing flashes of light. I’m not supposed to be hearing the murmur of voices. I’m not supposed to feel hands pressing against my skin or the cool breeze on my face.
I want to cry out but I can’t. I’m numb, both in my body and my mind.
I slip into the blackness. It’s calm here, like being suspended in the night sky on a warm evening. I dwell there, knowing that my mind is still active but not thinking straight. Ma’s here. She sits to the side, her face shrouded in darkness. I feel her calm presence like a balm to my soul. Corina’s here too. She tells me that she didn’t have a choice. She tells me over and over. She tells me that I do.
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