Who We Are

by Nicola Haken

Fine. He got me.

  “So you’ve never been attracted to a woman?” I asked, avoiding the question I knew was coming to give me time to think of an answer.

  “Not once,” he said resolutely. “Don’t get me wrong I adore women, I love looking at women, but stick me in a room with a naked one and the only thing popping up will be my portable spray tan tent.”

  I laughed at that.

  “You’re deflecting,” he added. “Come on. Who’s your female celeb crush?”

  I hadn’t had a conversation like this since I used to have sleepovers at Lisa’s house back in high school, but it was fun. It made Oliver smile. For now, cancer and chemo and bad things didn’t exist. I’d missed this, our pointless conversations, our teasing jibes at one another. I’d missed the closeness, the feel of his skin on mine.

  I’d missed him.

  “Hmm.” I clicked my tongue, taking a further moment to ponder. “Anna Kendrick.”

  “Little young for you isn’t she?” He sounded surprised.

  “She’s older than you. Don’t let the teen roles she’s played fool you. It’s not her roles anyway. She’s funny in real life, from what I’ve seen in interviews. Great sense of humour. I like that. So, either her or Sara Ramirez.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “She plays a doctor in Grey’s Anatomy…which if you haven’t seen we need to rectify. I’ve never seen her in interviews so I can’t comment on her personality, but to look at I think she’s beautiful. She has a really powerful smile. I’m drawn to smiles…it’s what I first saw in you.”

  “Yeah?” Now he sounded amused. “I don’t remember smiling. I remember wondering if I’d have a job at the end of the night because I’d smashed so many bloody glasses.”

  “You smiled. It was a nervous smile, I think, but those lips, those beautiful, purple lips…” Sitting up, I spun myself around, water splashing over the sides of the bath and onto the floor. Kneeling between Oliver’s legs, I ran the tip of my finger over his lips before kissing him softly. “I still dream about those lips.”

  “God I’ve missed you.” He moaned against my mouth and I felt the vibrations throughout my whole body.

  Blood pooled in my dick as he dipped his tongue between my lips and curled his fingers around the back of my neck. Instinctively, I reached down and cupped his balls, stroking them, teasing them, before taking his soft cock in my hands.

  I chased his lips as he broke our kiss, but then his head dropped with a heavy sigh. “I…I’m sorry, Seb. It’s not going to work. I can’t, I mean the treatment, it’s just…”

  “Shh…” Cradling his chin, I tipped his head back up to face me. “It’s okay.”

  “I think it’s broken.” He looked down between our bodies and pulled a sorrowful expression as he eyed up his cock.

  “It’s not broken. Just…undergoing maintenance.”

  “I’m sorry. I do miss being close to you.”

  “Hey.” I put on my firm voice. “We are close. We’re going to get out of the bath now because the water’s getting cold and I’ve never found the idea of frostbite in my penis all that appealing, and then I’m going to take you to bed and hold you. Close. Really fucking close.”

  Oliver smiled. It was a sad smile, a sweet smile, a lost and loving smile all rolled into one. “I like that idea.”

  Pulling the plug, I hauled myself to my feet, careful not to trip over Oliver’s limbs, or slip and break my neck. “And hey, don’t worry. If I need sex I’ll hire a prostitute. No biggie.”

  Shaking his head, he set his lips into a tight line as if he were trying desperately not to laugh at me. Then, he delved into the soapy water, his hands flat like paddles, and aimed an almighty splash in my direction. “Arsehole.”

  * * *

  Oliver seemed tired the next day. It could’ve been because we stayed awake late – talking, laughing, touching and kissing – but it worried me nonetheless. I knew he wasn’t better yet, but without the chemo ripping through his system every day I thought he’d be, I don’t know, perkier.

  “You should go back to bed once the nurse has been. Rest for an hour or two,” I suggested, combing along his scalp with my fingers as we sat watching Jeremy Kyle on TV. The skin on his head was smooth in parts, a little rough in others where patches of hair tried to grow through…before he’d shave them off again.

  He jerked his neck, pulling away from my touch. “I’m fine.” Apparently he was grumpy as well as tired. “Sorry. Scalp’s a little sore today.”

  I frowned because I hated knowing he was in pain and there was nothing I could do. “So I’ve been thinking, and I’m going to do up the spare room for Tyler.”

  “Why? You don’t need to do that,” he argued, looking almost…guilty.

  “Because right now he’s living here and he needs his own space. That room’s filled with junk anyway. Seems a shame to waste it when Ty could make use of it.”

  “But it might not be for long. If my biopsy results are good we might of be out of your hair soon. It’s a lot of work for-”

  “Oliver,” I interrupted, shifting sideways in my seat and taking his hand in mine. His hands were thinner than they used to be. It made them look older. Another reminder of how ill he was, how fragile. Also a reminder of how frigging lucky I was to be able to hold his hand right now. “I don’t want you out of my hair. Either of you. If it were up to me you’d never go home, regardless of what your results say.”

  “Are you…are you asking me, us, to move in with you? Permanently? Because emotions are high right now. The cancer, it’s changed things. You shouldn’t-”

  “I loved you before we knew about the cancer, Oliver. I’ll love you when the cancer’s gone. I’ll love you till we’re old. I’ll love you when we’re dead. I’m going to love you forever. I love you, okay? I love being with you, and the results of a test aren’t going to change that.”

  He blew out a puff of air through pursed lips before smiling like he couldn’t quite believe the direction this conversation had taken. “I’ll need to talk to Ty,” he said, his tone light and hopeful, like he’d made his decision.

  “Of course. I’ll need to talk to Scott too.”

  “And I’ll have to let the council know. Give up my tenancy agreement. It’ll be weird, imagining someone else living there. My mum started renting that house when I was in nursery. I’ve lived in other places, before I had to move back home to take care of Ty, but that’s always been home, you know?”

  I squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I want you to see this as your home, too. Both of you. Anything here is yours.”

  Bowing his head, he smiled softly. “We’ll need to discuss money. I’ll have to contribute to your rent. I’m not living here for free.”

  I fought insanely hard not to roll my eyes because I knew it would annoy him, but money was the last thing on my mind right now. “Well I don’t pay rent. I have a mortgage, but we’ll talk about that when you’re back on your feet and earning real wages again.”

  “Sebas-”

  “Not listening.” I raised my voice high, releasing his hand to stick my fingers in my ears like a child. Once I felt confident he wasn’t going to push the issue, I took them out.

  “You can’t do that every time you don’t want an adult conversation,” he said, pulling a disapproving expression.

  “Worked, didn’t it?”

  He shook his head, slowly, as if he wondered what the hell he’d just agreed to. “So we’re really doing this? We’re going to live together?”

  “We are.” I smiled – a huge beaming smile filled with so much enthusiasm it made my cheeks ache. “And it’s going to be perfect.”

  I leaned in to kiss him, wrapping my fingers around the base of his neck, inhaling the delicious scent that was exclusively Oliver as my lips grazed his…and then I growled in frustration when a series of thuds began pounding on the ceiling above us.

  “That’s it. I’m banning plastic bottles from this house.” Serious
ly, I hoped whoever invented the water bottle flip slipped in dog shit and broke both their legs during the fall.

  Oliver chuckled, dropping his forehead against mine. “I’ll go tell them to shut up. You put the kettle on.”

  Reluctantly, I prised myself away from him and let him get up from the sofa.

  “Oh and no sugar in my tea please. Makes me queasy lately.”

  “Sure,” I said as he reached the door. “And Oliver?”

  “Mm hmm?”

  “I love you.”

  Smiling, he tilted his head to the side. “Right back atcha. Roomie.”

  * * *

  Oliver seemed nervous when his nurse, Laura, came by later. I didn’t understand why he didn’t return her smile, or why he sat forward on the sofa fidgeting with the cuffs of his long sleeves, because she wasn’t here to do anything out of his daily routine. But then, after sanitising her hands, she removed the kit she needed to take Oliver’s blood from her black bag and Oliver began to roll up his sleeve with a slow, heavy sigh.

  Laura put down the sealed syringe pack and leaned in a little closer. I followed her concerned gaze towards the top of Oliver’s arm, becoming instantly aware of the source of the uneasy mood he’d been in all morning.

  “How long has it been like this?” Laura asked, gently teasing the edges of the dressing that held Oliver’s PICC line in place away from his skin.

  The site was red, slightly swollen, and I knew this could only have happened overnight because I checked on it often when he wasn’t looking.

  “Been sore for a couple of days, but it looked fine until this morning.”

  “This probably needs to come out. You really should’ve told me yesterday.”

  “I hoped it’d go away. And, well, I knew you’d send me back to hospital if I did.”

  Laura offered a sad, almost apologetic smile. “I have to. But they won’t necessarily admit you,” she added, her tone optimistic. “It’s important for the doctor to take a look and decide what he wants to do next, but he may well prescribe antibiotics and let me monitor you at home.”

  Oliver nodded but didn’t look convinced. My heart broke for him. I knew how much he wanted to spend this week with the boys.

  “I’ll ring the hospital when I get back to the surgery,” Laura continued, peeling open a fresh sterile dressing. “And let you know later what time they’d like you to go in.”

  “Okay.” He sounded so defeated, disappointment flooding the tiny word as it left his lips.

  I placed my hand on the small of his back to remind him that I was here, that I loved him, but it didn’t feel like enough. I’d never felt so fucking helpless. The atmosphere in the house grew tense and uncomfortable after Laura left. Oliver didn’t speak, merely nodded and forced fake smiles in response to anything I said. The boys clearly noticed because they headed into town after finally surfacing from their bedroom just before lunch.

  “I’d better go pack a bag,” Oliver said, turning away from me in the kitchen that afternoon. Laura had called a few minutes ago. We had to leave in an hour.

  “You might not need one.” I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “If you do I’ll come back and get it.”

  He pulled away from me, huffing in frustration. “Of course I need one. If I’ve got an infection they won’t let me go. Stop being so fucking hopeful and rosy all the damn time.”

  Whoa.

  He slammed his palm against the doorframe, dropping his chin to his chest.

  Shit. What do I do? Tentatively, I reached out to touch him. “Oliver…”

  “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t do this anymore!” He wouldn’t look at me but the pain in his voice made my heart feel like it was ripping in two.

  I took a step closer, squeezing his shoulder, and he batted my hand away. He may as well have punched me in the face.

  “I’m exhausted, Seb. I’m tired of thinking about it all the time, wondering what it looks like inside of me, what it’s doing to me, if it’s killing me. It feels like it is. I feel weak, and scared, and angry. So fucking angry!”

  This was it. As I watched him drag his bony hands over his smooth head and then down his ashen face, I knew it had arrived – the meltdown I’d been expecting since the beginning. Now it was here, and I wasn’t sure what the hell to do. Instinct told me to hold him, love him, but when I tried he pushed me away.

  “I shouldn’t be angry. So many people are trying to help me, support me…and I’m angry! How ungrateful is that?”

  “Oliver…” I reached out again, and again he tried to shrug away. Only this time I refused to let go. I needed him, and dammit if he didn’t need me too. “Be angry. I’m angry. Life has let you down and you’ve got every right to be pissed off as hell with that.”

  “Let go of me,” he argued, wriggling from the hold I had on his waist.

  “No. Be angry, Oliver. Let it out.”

  “I mean it, Seb.” He grabbed my wrist and tried to pull, but his grip was too weak. “Get off.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Sebastian!” He shoved at my chest and then started beating on it, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make my balance falter for a second. “It’s not fair! It’s not fucking fair!”

  I widened my legs to steady my position while all the anger he’d kept trapped inside himself for too long poured from his body in weak punches and strangled sobs. He yelled, he cried, and then he crashed…

  His arms fell limp by his sides and his head dropped to my shoulder. “I don’t know how long I can do this for.” The words broke on his lips, his voice muffled as he cried into my neck.

  Despite his height, he’d never felt so small and fragile in my arms. “For as long as it takes. Because you’re strong, Oliver, and you’re not alone. You can do this.”

  “I don’t feel strong.”

  Cradling the back of his neck with my hand, I kissed the top of his head. “You don’t need to, because I’m telling you, and I’m a very knowledgeable man.”

  He may have been sniffing in tears, but I felt his cheek move with a smile.

  “Maybe not physically strong,” I added, my voice teasing. “Gotta say, I think Marv can pack a more powerful punch than you.”

  He chuckled against my shoulder, brought his arms around my waist and hugged me close. “My nails are brittle from the chemo. Didn’t wanna break one.”

  And then we just…stood. I don’t know how long I held him for. I only know it wasn’t nearly long enough.

  Chapter Nine

  ~Oliver~

  FUNNY HOW YOU can still be disappointed by something you knew was coming. When Doctor Sullivan told me he’d feel more comfortable if I stayed in hospital I wanted to scream, ‘What about my comfort?’ But then I forced myself to remember trading a few months of comfort in exchange for my life seemed like a pretty good deal. And so, I sucked it up, nodded my head, and refused to fall apart like I’d done earlier in Seb’s kitchen.

  The memory made me cringe with embarrassment. I’d put on quite a spectacular show back there. Rhys would’ve been proud of my dramatics if he’d seen, I was sure.

  By the time I arrived on the ward, the infection in my arm had spread significantly. The skin had become hot and swollen, and the decision was made to remove the PICC line immediately. That itself was painless, although it stung like a motherfucker when the nurse cleaned and dressed the site afterwards. She finished off the torture session by jabbing a needle a few thousand, okay, three, times into the back of my hand until she found a vein willing to support a cannula before hooking me up to the intravenous antibiotic drip my doctor had prescribed.

  Stomach cramps and diarrhoea here I come. Woohoo!

  I saw Janie for the first time since being admitted on Monday afternoon. Her face cheered me up as she strolled towards me, pushing along the blood pressure machine I detested so much. She was more than just a nurse. She was a friendly face, an unbiased ear, a lifeline almost. I was certain
I wouldn’t have made it this far without her support, or that of the many other wonderful staff here.

  “Couldn’t keep away from me, eh?” She grinned as she ripped open the Velcro cuff, wrapping it around the top of my arm.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I came for the bland food and cheap toilet roll.”

  “Carry on, lad, and I’ll put this on your other arm.”

  Ouch! Twisted bitch! Laughing, I straightened my arm and let her do her thing. “Hey, do you know how my friend Tracy’s doing? I’ve been texting her the last few days and she’s not replied.” It wasn’t like her. Since her discharge a week before mine we’d been texting or calling every day. Her silence worried me.

  “You know even if I did I couldn’t tell you,” Janie said, offering a ‘nice try’ expression. “But I might be able to pass on a message, let her know you’re thinking of her. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  The monitor by my side beeped once it’d finished trying to sever my arteries, and then Janie pressed a button and removed the cuff. “BP’s good. How’s the other arm feeling today?”

  “Little sore.” I shrugged. “Not too bad.”

  “I’ll be back soon to take a look and change the dressing. Any other problems? Be honest, now. I know what you’re like for hiding things from me.”

  I smiled awkwardly. I didn’t hide things as such, I just didn’t want to be a burden. I knew how busy these people were. “My stomach’s giving me some gyp. Think it’s the antibiotics. I had the same problem last time.”

  “I can get you something for that. See? No need to suffer in silence. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a grateful, relieved smile.

  “Right, I’ll be back in a little while. Doctor Sullivan’s running behind but he should be doing his rounds before dinner. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

  “Thank you,” I said again. Truthfully, I’d never be able to thank her enough for everything she’d done for me. It may have been her job but I literally owed my life to her and the other professionals in charge of my care. Thank you, two tiny little words, could never repay that debt.