by Nicola Haken
“I’m so proud of you,” I said before leaning over to kiss his lips. Just a peck of course – seeing as though I could feel my dad and Sarah’s eyes on us the whole time. “You’ve worked so hard the last few months. I can’t believe you’ve achieved so much in so little time.”
“Guess I already had the basics. The first few exams were a breeze because I’d already learned most of that shit growing up. But… well technically the college is only supposed to offer exams at set times throughout the year.” I pursed my eyebrows in confusion, unsure where he was heading. “Did you know Chris has been arranging them through a private company? Therefore paying a hell of a lot of cash to said private company?”
“No.” I felt a little winded. “I had no idea.”
“I’m telling you, doll, I might have worked my ass off, but none of this would’ve been possible without Chris. He’s encouraged me, pushed me, taught me, supported me… and now I’ve found out he’s been paying fuck knows how much money in order for me to fast track.” Dexter shook his head, sighing like he couldn’t quite believe he was worthy of Chris’ help. “And I’ve got no way to repay him.”
“My brother believes in you, Dex. He wouldn’t have done all that for you if he didn’t. The best way you can repay him is to carry on working your butt off. Get your NVQ and never stop learning. Earn other qualifications along on the way, keep up the work that you’re doing at the garage and make it the best it can be. It’s always been Chris’ dream to own his own garage, and I think training you like he has is his way of passing that dream onto you. Live it, Dex. Take that dream with both hands and turn his garage into something he’d be proud of.”
“What if I can’t? Sure I can fix cars but running a business? I don’t have a clue where to start.”
“Baby, we’ll do it together. We’ve been running that place alone for the last two weeks. I know that’s not long but it’s long enough to know we both know what we’re doing. You carry on dealing with the cars and I’ll continue running the show behind the scenes. Sure there’s still stuff we need to learn but I really believe we can make this a success. I believe in you, Dexter. I believe in us.”
“We believe in you both, too,” Sarah chipped in. My gaze had been so intently focused on Dexter I’d almost forgotten she and my dad were still here. “Okay, so we know nothing about cars but you guys will not have to do this alone. We’re behind you one-hundred percent.”
It felt strange that she was suddenly referring to her and my dad as ‘we’. I think that’s going to take some serious getting used to. I opened my mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Dexter offered, jumping to his feet. Seconds later, Chris’ nurse walked into the room. She wasn’t what I was expecting – maybe someone rounder and wearing an actual nurses uniform? But Paula was tall, beautifully slim with short dark hair and dressed in a grey pantsuit with a lanyard hanging from her neck.
“Good to see you again, Dexter,” she said before turning her attention to the rest of us. “You must be Chris’ sister,” she stated, smiling and offering her hand for me to shake. “You look so much alike.”
“Yes. I’m Emily,” I introduced myself. “And this is our dad, and Dexter’s aunty – Sarah,” I added, motioning my hand over to each of them as I spoke. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m good thank you,” she answered, shaking her head. “May I?” she tacked on, pointing to the empty armchair.
“Of course. Yes. Sorry,” I flapped, feeling like an imbecile for not offering her a seat.
“So, you said earlier Chris was acting confused?”
“Yeah. Well I don’t know if confused is the right word. He wasn’t confused… in his head he was fifteen again.”
“Sounds like he’s experiencing some memory loss. Although that is difficult for families to process, it’s unfortunately not uncommon with this type of tumour.”
“Does that mean… he’s going to… stay like that from now on? Have we lost him?”
“Not necessarily. Sometimes the memory loss is like a temporary little glitch in the brain. Of course, only time will tell us if that’s the case with Chris. I looked into his records and saw he has an appointment at the hospital on Friday. I’ve brought that forward to tomorrow morning. I think it will be beneficial to get a doctor’s opinion on what’s happening.” I nodded, trying to process everything she was saying. “I take it he’s upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Can I go up and see him?”
“Yes, of course. Should I come with you?”
“Yes, he might prefer a familiar face around. You go up first and tell him I’m here then I’ll follow you up.”
“Sure,” I agreed. Dexter gave me an encouraging squeeze on the knee and then I stood up and made my way up to Chris, praying with every step that he would be back to ‘normal’.
Nerves welded my feet to the floor when I reached his room and it took me a couple of minutes to summon the courage to open the door. When I did, I saw him sleeping in a tight ball on his bed and I stepped cautiously forward and tapped his shoulder.
“Chris?” I whispered, hoping it was loud enough to rouse him. His eyes lazily opened and he stretched his arms above his head.
“Hey, Emmie.” Those two words instantaneously slowed my racing heart and letting out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, I perched myself on the edge of his mattress. “What time is it? Have I been out long?”
“Your nurse is here to see you,” I said nervously, ignoring his question.
“Why?”
“You don’t remember this afternoon?”
“Um… should I? What happened this afternoon?”
“You were yelling for your mum…” Funny how I referred to her as ‘his’ mum and not ‘our’ mum. I suppose I still struggle to imagine the woman I didn’t know existed not so long ago and I, being part of each other. “You said you needed to find your trainers or you’d be late for football practice.”
“Football?”
“Yeah.”
Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes closed as if he was trying to summon the memory.
“Jesus,” was all he managed to choke out.
“Should I tell Paula she can come in?”
“Um… yeah. I suppose so.” I stood up from the bed and he tugged at my hand, pulling me back. “Wait… just pass me that chewing gum over there first. Don’t want to knock the poor cow out with my breath.”
Smiling, I tossed him the packet of gum and when I opened the bedroom door to fetch his nurse, she was already standing outside.
“How’s he feeling?” she asked, already stepping past me. From the look on her face what she meant was, is he still confused?
“Happy as a pig in shit,” Chris answered, sitting up on his bed and answering her question.
“Glad to hear it,” Paula said, smiling as she sat down on the end of his bed. “You gave your family quite a scare before.”
“So I believe. But hey, I’ve been sleeping so much lately, it’s about time I livened things up a bit for them. Don’t want them getting bored of me now do I?”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” I asked Chris, not sure which answer I was hoping for.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging like he didn’t mind either way. “Go and put the kettle on and I’ll come down when we’re done here.”
“Okay.”
Chris smiled, but it was broken by a wince when he tried to sit up straighter and swing his legs over the edge of the bed. With a heavy heart I looked away from the pain in his eyes and headed downstairs, fighting the tears the whole way.
Chapter Nineteen
Chris
The next morning I asked Emmie if she wanted to visit our mother’s grave before my appointment at the hospital. I’d been putting it off because I didn’t know if she was ready, but after yesterday I started to think I didn’t have time to wait for her anymore. I played down my whole ‘memory
loss’ episode by joking about it, but the truth is it scares the shit out of me. I feel like I’ve lost complete control of my mind as well as my body. What’s next? Am I going to end up a complete vegetable? The thought terrifies me.
“Chris?” Emily called up the stairs, pulling me out of my depressing thoughts. “Breakfast is ready!” Smiling at the chirpy tone of her voice, I finished what I was writing, and then stuffed the notepad I was holding into my bedside table drawer and made my way downstairs. I found her in the kitchen, setting a plateful of toast and scrambled eggs down on the table. “Morning,” she said with a warm smile.
“Life is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re gonna get.”
“Um… why are you quoting Forrest Gump at me?”
“No reason. Fitting though don’t you think? You should remember we had this conversation.”
“Okay, you’re weirding me out. What’s going on? Are you going crazy on me again?”
“No, Emmie. Not crazy today I promise. So far anyway,” I said, winking at her. She looked at me dubiously, and then sat down to eat her breakfast opposite me. We ate mostly in silence, and when we did talk it was just light conversation about the garage. I think we were both nervous about going to see our mum’s grave. It’s always been a secret place for me, somewhere I go to escape… and now just knowing that makes me feel like such a selfish bastard. Where did Emmie get to escape? Nowhere. She’s felt trapped in a bubble of guilt her whole life, and I feel so responsible for that.
After finishing breakfast I got ready quickly, knowing we had to be at the hospital by 10 AM. I took a shower because I didn’t think I’d be able to pull myself up again if I sat in the bath. Then I threw on some jeans and a black t-shirt and brushed my teeth while staring myself down in the mirror.
Every day I start to recognise myself less. My skin is grey and loose. It looks weathered and old, and each morning the purple bags under my eyes grow darker. As for the lack of hair, it still manages to shock me every time I look in a mirror. Since stopping the chemo it tries to grow back, causing uneven patches to sprout on different areas of my scalp. It looks ridiculous so I just keep shaving it off.
I looked at the stranger in the mirror for a few seconds longer. I look like I’m dying. There’s no mistaking what’s wrong with me. I am the man from all the cancer charity adverts. I am the epitome of cancer. I am cancer. And cancer is me.
Stupid fucking cancer.
**********
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I doubled checked with Emmie as she pulled up at the cemetery.
“I want to see where she’s buried. I’ve wanted to since the second I found out. I just didn’t like asking you in case… well I just didn’t.”
“In case it brought it home to me that I would be buried under one of those graves soon?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes I suppose so.”
“Come on,” I said, breaking the dense atmosphere as I clicked off my seatbelt. Emmie followed my lead and when she got out of the car she walked around to my side to meet me. I led her through the graveyard, weaving our way through the weathered headstones until we reached the one that belonged to our mum. When we came to a stop beside the burnished black stone, tears leaked from Emmie’s eyes and she just… stared.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
“I’m not sure,” she answered, shrugging lightly. “I mean… I didn’t even know her, but I feel so… so sad. I feel like I miss her.”
“She was your mum, Emmie. Of course you feel like that.”
“Sometimes I wish I’d known sooner, but then I think what would that’ve achieved anyway? She still wouldn’t be here. And… well it would probably have made me resent Jocelyn even more.”
“You should’ve known,” I muttered, shaking my head. “And I’m so, so sorry I never told you.”
“You don’t need to be. You were just a kid yourself when it happened. Sure I was angry with you at first, but then I realised there’s no point. It doesn’t change anything. Ultimately the decision was Dad’s and you got swept along with it. I don’t blame you, Chris. I don’t blame anyone. What’s done is done and I’m okay with it. Or at least I’m starting to be.”
“She’d have been so proud of you, you know. I know that because I am so proud of you.”
“All these other graves are worn and mouldy, but this one isn’t,” she noted, stroking the glossy black stone with her fingers. “Who keeps it like this? Dad?”
“Me,” I admitted. “I only found out where she was buried a few years ago. I made Dad tell me when he kicked me out – or rather when he stood back and let her kick me out. I’ve been coming here every week ever since. Once a month I bring a bottle of soapy water and a sponge to wash it down, and some flowers too.”
A current of guilt surged through me knowing that Emmie had been denied the same privilege. I’d been visiting Mum for years – sitting with her, talking to her and hoping somehow she could hear me… and Emmie didn’t even know she ever existed.
“I’ll keep on doing that when you’re… well you know, not able to anymore.”
It seems so bizarre to say the thought of dying doesn’t scare me anymore. Of course I don’t want to die… but that’s different to accepting that it’s inevitable. When I first found out I was terrified, angry and confused. Now I’m ready. Waiting. In fact the only thing that frightens me is that it won’t come soon enough. Each day the pain intensifies, every hour my limbs grow weaker and every goddamn minute I become more tired. Exhausted physically and mentally. Drained. Frail.
Ready.
I want to be gone before I become a burden on my family, and especially before my brain melts into so much mush I don’t even know I’m being a burden.
“I want to be buried with her,” I stated. Emmie’s eyes flicked to mine and her jaw dropped open a little. “We haven’t talked about this stuff yet and we need to. I know it’s difficult for you, but you should know what I want.”
“No, I know we do. Just… not here. Tonight. We’ll talk tonight. I suppose I just need to psyche myself up for that conversation.”
“Sure. Tonight’s fine.”
“We’d best get going or else we’ll be late for the hospital.” I nodded in agreement, and then when Emmie bent down and kissed the top of our mum’s headstone, it felt like my heart was being pulled from my chest. “I’m glad you brought me here.”
“Me too,” I agreed, my heart swelling with contentment. It felt like the final piece of the puzzle. I’d now completed everything I needed to do in this life, so all I have to do now is wait. Emmie started walking back towards the car and I rubbed my mum’s gravestone before I followed. I didn’t know if it would be the last time I ever visited this place, so it felt right to say an official goodbye.
“Goodbye, Mum,” I whispered into the air. “I’ll be with you real soon.”
**********
After my consultation the doctor ordered me another MRI scan. Emmie was with me, and as I lay myself down on the board for the scanning machine, she took up a seat at the other end of the room. Positioning my head in the holder, I stayed perfectly still as instructed. Then the machine came to life and the sound was a constant roar in my ears. Soon enough I was trapped – lying in a tight tube surrounded by suffocating white steel.
Above my head was a little mirror that reflected the other side of the room, opposite my feet, and allowed me to see Emmie. I think the purpose of being able to see a loved one was supposed to be comforting – help alleviate the claustrophobia. But the pain and fear in her eyes was evident even in the tiny mirror. It stabbed at my heart, making it pound against my ribs, so selfishly I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see her.
The machine continued to whir and clatter, piercing my eardrums and making me wish I could raise my hands against the sides of my head.
“You’re doing well, Christopher,” the radiographer said through the microphone that sounded above me. “Almost done.”
True to his word, the board I was lying on started to move just a few seconds later, freeing me from the oppressive tube. Like always, I stayed still until someone came to get me, and once the radiographer entered the room he proffered his arm out for me to use as support while I pulled myself up.
“Okay, according to your notes you’re back here tomorrow?” he said, his tone indicating that it was a question.
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding. I still had my original appointment only now that was being used to discuss the results of today’s scan.
“We’ll send these images off immediately, but for now you can go home.”
“Okay,” I said wearily. “Thanks.”
Emmie was by my side and together we walked slowly through the hospital corridors towards the exit. I would need to sleep as soon as I got home. The walk through the cemetery this morning had exhausted every muscle in my body. The throb I’d felt in the back of my head all day had exploded into an all-consuming pain and I felt violently sick.
“Are you okay?” Emmie asked.
“Just tired,” I understated.
“Okay. Let’s get you home where you can rest.”
Climbing awkwardly with my long legs into Emmie’s small car, I clicked my seatbelt on and rested my head against the window. Fuck I was tired. So, so tired.
I’m ready.
Chapter Twenty
Dexter
I got a call from Marianne this morning saying she and Patricia had landed at Manchester airport. I knew they were coming during the summer, but Jeez I thought they’d give me a little more notice! I can’t say I wasn’t excited about seeing my sister again though, and under much better circumstances. This time we both knew each other existed and I wasn’t still coming out of the worst relapse of my life.
“I can pick them up from their hotel?” Emily offered as I was pulling my boots on to head out with Chris to the hospital.
“Patricia said they’ll catch a cab. You stay here and play the good housewife – tidy up a bit, bake some bread, that kinda shit.” I winked at her and I could practically see her insides melt.
