Forever Is Over

by Wade, Calvin

  “Don’t worry though, Mum!” he said to soothe my nerves, “With medical advances, they will put me right in no time!”

  I am a quizzical mother. I am not one to be content with just knowing the big picture, I wanted minor detail. I asked Richie question after question about his illness until my thirst for knowledge was satiated. Richie needed chemotherapy., he was going to Clatterbridge on the Wirral to have it and despite it being what the Doctors called ‘Stage Three’, the consultant was confident he would beat it.

  Once I had acquired enough medical information, I needed to establish its emotional impact.

  “How’s Jemma?”

  “Shocked, upset but strong, Mum. Like always, Jemma is strong.”

  He was right. Jemma’s mother was a common, drunken, abusive, no good, who had given her a torrid time as a child. Jemma had always needed to be tough. Sometimes, inadvertently, Jemma could be so tough that she could make comments to me that were a little upsetting, but I bit my tongue, I had to make allowances for the upbringing she had had.

  “And the kids?”

  “We aren’t going to tell them just yet, Mum. We want everything to remain normal for them, until it gets to a stage where it can no longer be.”

  “Like when?”

  “Like if I lose my hair. They will have to be told why I’m losing my hair, not necessarily Jamie, but we will have to tell Melissa.”

  I had not even thought about Richie’s hair. I welled up at the thought of him losing all his beautiful hair, but I would not let myself cry. If my darling son was being brave, I would try to be too.

  “I know you and Jemma will do things exactly the right way for those children. Make sure Jemma knows that if she ever needs a break from them, even just for a couple of hours, I am always only a phone call away.”

  “We know that Mum. Thank you!”

  “Have you told James, Helen and Caroline yet?”

  James is Richie’s brother, Helen and Caroline are his sisters. As a child, James and Richie used to fight constantly, not always physically, but my goodness they knew how to argue! As they grew older though, they became very close. Richie and Helen were never particularly close but were always courteous to each other, whilst Richie and Caroline were constant companions at one stage, but they headed in different directions romantically and geographically, so did not see much of each other as adults. When they did see each other though, they still giggled like a pair of teenagers.

  “I’ve told Jim,” Richie replied, “but I’ll ring Helen and Caroline after you.”

  “Don’t forget, Richie! They’ll never forgive you if you forget!”

  “MUM! I’m ringing around to tell people I have cancer! I am hardly going to forget!”

  “I’m just reminding you, that’s all!”

  Richie could be a bit sharp with me at times, but it was impossible to take it personally as he always managed to follow it up by sweet talking me! This was no exception.

  “I know you are, Mum and that’s why you jointly win, “Best Mum In The World”, along with Jemma, because you care so much about all of us, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone knows what I have and I’ll let everyone know that I’m going to beat it!”

  Those final words still make me cry, “I’ll let everyone know that I’m going to beat it.” The cancer was so aggressive, he could not possibly beat it, it could only beat him.

  One afternoon that Autumn, Richie and Jemma had to go over to see their consultant, Mr. Mollon, at Clatterbridge Hospital. I volunteered to babysit and suggested to Charlie that he should come with me. He agreed reluctantly, for a born again Christian, he could be very grumpy! That afternoon and evening, Melissa and Jamie behaved the worst they have ever behaved for Charlie and I. Maybe they sensed there was something strange going on with their parents and it sent everything out of synch. They were both absolute terrors! It felt like Richie and Jemma had force fed them all the wrong “E” numbers to make them hyperactive. They were off their rockers! Melissa insisted that she should be allowed to play ‘Connect 4’ and when she lost, she would turn into the Incredible Sulk, lifting the board up and tossing it around the room like a caber. Jamie wanted to make paper aeroplanes, but he didn’t want his Granddad to make them, HE wanted to make them! He would not be shown how they were made either, so he ended up making paper balls! If Charlie tried to show him what to do, he would just stick his fingers in his ears and hum very loudly!

  “Do they not smack these children?” an exasperated Charlie asked.

  “No. No-one smacks their children these days, Charlie! There are other ways of disciplining them”

  “Well, getting them to sit on a step is obviously working wonders with these two!”

  The good thing about manic children is that they eventually wear themselves out. By half past seven, Charlie and I had those kids bathed and in bed and by twenty five to eight they were both fast asleep. As we sat ourselves down wearily on the settee, I warned Charlie,

  “Don’t you dare tell Richie and Jemma that those kids were anything other than perfect.”

  “Dot, give me some credit! I wouldn’t dream of it!”

  Half an hour later, Jemma and Richie were back. We did tell them the children were as good as gold, but it hardly would have mattered that night what we had told them. That was the night we all discovered Richie’s cancer was terminal.

  Jim

  Mum rang me before Richie did to say it was terminal, she knew I would be in bits, but didn’t want me to fall apart when I was speaking to Richie, so rang me first, allowing me to bawl my eyes out and then she told me I owed it to my brother to be strong.

  Mum explained that she’d only just come back from Jemma and Richie’s and that they’d had a long day at the hospital, so not to expect a call until the following day. There was no way I could sleep after that. I went into Gracie’s room for a while and just watched her sleeping, she was six years old and was turning into such a pretty young thing and was doing brilliantly at school, I was so proud of her. My sobbing nearly woke her up a couple of times, so in the end, after five minutes or so, I had to go out. Just being in that room made me realise what Richie had to face. Like me, his children meant everything to him and now he was going to miss out on their futures. It really did not bear thinking about. I broke the news to Amy too and she seemed to cry for Jemma and the childrens loss, whilst I cried for Richie’s. We had rare and meaningful sex that night, but after we had finished, Amy settled down to sleep but I couldn’t, so went downstairs and watched re-runs of Cheers and Rising Damp.

  By the morning, when the night had passed without sleep, I decided I needed to see Richie face to face rather than have him discuss things over the phone, so at half past six, I left a note for Amy, dressed and headed over to Standish. I arrived on Richie’s doorstep just after his milkman. Richie was opening the door in his dressing gown, ready to collect the milk.

  “Jim, what are you…oh, I take it Mum’s told you? Come in!” Driving over, I pictured it being more emotional than this. I pictured Jemma opening the door and me going upstairs to see a bedridden brother and neither of us speaking, just giving each other a bear hug through wave after wave of tears. It was much more every day routine than that though, I followed Richie into the hall, then into the lounge where Melissa was, watching grown men on the television in different coloured tops, singing daft songs and pretending to be imbeciles whilst silently totting up their bank balances. There were sounds filtering down from upstairs, Jemma was obviously trying to wash Jamie’s hair in the bath and he sounded as though he was more than a little unhappy about soap getting in his eyes. Tortured hostages made less noise. We each sat down on a settee.

  “Mum did tell me, Richie, I’m so sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for, Jim?” Richie said matter of factly. “It’s not your fault.”

  I wanted to tell him that I had thought perhaps it was. Perhaps if I had dragged him to the Doctors when we were teenagers, he may not have had the
problem recur. I just let him wait and wait. I shouldn’t have let him do that. We didn’t go down that route though, I just mumbled,

  “I suppose not.”

  “Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee, Jim?”

  Richie asked as though it was just another normal day, not one where he was waking up to a death sentence for the first time in his life.

  “No, no, I don’t want a drink, Richie. I just wanted to see you. I need to know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve no idea! Anything you want, Richie, you’re my big brother, anything you want, I’d do it for you.”

  “Well, there is one thing but it’s a little crazy…no, I couldn’t ask.”

  “No, come on, its me you’re speaking to, your brother! There’s no need to be shy!”

  Richie looked uncomfortable with whatever idea he had.

  “I think there is…”

  “No, honestly, Richie, there isn’t! Tell me!”

  Richie stood up.

  “Not in here, Jim,” he gestured over at Melissa who was still hypnotised by the television crazy men, “ come into the kitchen with me.” We moved in to the kitchen and stood face to face.

  “Tell me!” I urged.

  “OK…I’ve never had a three in a bed,” Richie whispered, “and before I get too unwell, I’d like to have one.”

  When I said anything, I didn’t quite mean anything.

  “With me?”

  “Not with you, Jim, you daft git! Why would I want a three in a bed with you?”

  “I’ve no idea, Richie! You looked awkward about it! We’re very different, I don’t know how your mind works!”

  “Believe me, my mind does not work in a way that involves having a three in a bed with my own brother! Who was the third party?”

  I pointed upstairs.

  “And what exactly were we going to do, Jim, take it in turns?”

  “I’ve no idea Richie, it was your gig!”

  “No it was not!”

  Man, did I feel relieved!

  “What has this got to do with me then?”

  “I need your consent.”

  I didn’t understand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “ I want a three in a bed with me, Jemma and Amy.”

  “My Amy?”

  Richie nodded. Was I hearing this right? Richie was never into Amy. Just before Amy and I got together he had his chance but he turned her down.

  “Seriously?”

  “If it’s OK with you, Jim. I’ve spoken to Jemma about it and she’s not into things like that, you understand, but to grant a dying man his final wish, she’s said she’ll go along with it, just the once.”

  It was my turn to feel uncomfortable. I did not like this idea one bit, but it was Richie, my brother and he was dying. I felt duty bound to grant him his wish too, like Jemma had, but I could see another stumbling block.

  “Look Richie, if that’s what you really want…”

  “It is Jim!”

  “Well, if that’s what you really want, I can’t say I’d be happy about it, but I would go along with it. The thing is, you may have a problem with Amy, sex isn’t really her thing these days and she’s never been into any kinky stuff, so I can’t…”

  Richie interrupted me.

  “Jim, don’t worry about that, Amy’s fine about it!”

  “She is?”

  “Oh yeh, Jemma rang her last week…”

  “Last week? You didn’t know you were dying last week!”

  “I knew I was ill though. She just said name the time and place and she’ll be there. She said she might have to have a glass of wine or two to lower her inhibitions, but she reckons once she has, she’ll be fine.”

  “OK.” I said through gritted teeth.

  I was furious with Amy. She hadn’t even discussed this with me and she agreed last week! Before the bad news! I knew it wasn’t quite an infidelity, given the circumstances, but she could have at least talked it through with me first.

  I could tell Richie was warming to the idea as he talked about it. His bald head suddenly seemed to be glowing.

  “So, I was thinking maybe this Friday night, Jim. I’m most comfortable in my own bed, so I was thinking maybe if Amy could come here. Would you be able to drop her off?”

  “You want me to be here, Richie?”

  “Well, I get very tired these days, so I’d probably want to get things kickstarted early in the evening. If I did, our kids may still be up, so I was thinking you could look after them downstairs. Bring Gracie as well, if you like.”

  The cheeky bastard was asking me to keep his children entertained downstairs , whilst he kept my wife entertained upstairs! I was beginning to lose my cool.

  “Hang on a minute, Richie!”

  “Jim, don’t worry, it won’t be for long, as I say, I’ve never had a threesome before so I would imagine it’ll all be over very quickly. Has Amy got any sexy underwear?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, that could make it quicker again. Also, if you have a Marvin Gaye CD, bring that, preferably, ‘Let’s Get It on’!”

  I knew he was dying. I knew I should be the bigger man, but I just could not allow this. Dying wish or not, I’d have to live with it forever. This was too much. It was sordid.

  “Hold it right there! I am not going to let this happen! I forbid Amy to do this! I know you’re ill and everything and you’re my brother and I love you, but this is just totally wrong! It’s alright for you, you’re buggering off, but I would never be able to look Jemma or Amy in the eye again!”

  Richie shook his head and looked at me with disgust.

  “So, you’re telling me that you won’t even babysit for ten minutes?”

  “NO!”

  “Well that’s not very fair, is it?”

  “It’s not about the bloody babysitting!”

  “Well, what is it about then?”

  “You know very well!”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “It’s about you wanting to have sex with my wife.”

  Richie was non-plussed

  “Well you should have said! If that’s whats bothering you, Jim, I’ll just watch Jemma and Amy then.”

  “NO!”

  “I could film it, you could watch it later. Balance out the score. I get to see Amy, you get to see Jemma!”

  “NO! Richie, don’t be so disgusting! You’re starting to creep me out now! I didn’t know you were like this.”

  “Like what, Jim?”

  “Like a pervert.”

  “Are you calling me a pervert, Jim?”

  “Well if the shoe fits…”

  I thought Richie was going to punch me. It felt like that date at Park Pool when we got kicked out for fighting, like Richie just needed half an excuse to lamp me. It was like he was looking down on me for not having the same weird desires.

  “Do you know what I think, Jim?”

  “Don’t say I’m a prude, Richie! Remember when we were the kids, you were the prude, not me! You were the one into romance when everyone else was into doing it. Bloody hell, look how things have changed! Maybe it’s the drugs you’re taking. Maybe they’ve warped your brain!”

  Richie’s face broke into a grin so big, if the sun had have shone at that moment, I would have been blinded by his smile, rebounding back off it.

  “I was just going to say, I think if there’s a more gullible brother on this planet, I would be very surprised!”

  I still did not get it.

  “What?”

  “I’m just joking, Jim! Look at the state of me! Bald, skinny, do you really think I’d be wanting a threesome in my state!”

  I started to feel a bit of a fool.

  “Well I don’t know, do I?”

  Richie came over and rubbed my hair like a Dad would do to a son he was proud of.

  “Thanks Jim! That’s really cheered me up that! Do you really think Amy would have agreed to a threesome with me
and Jemma?”

  “Possibly, if there were a couple of free glasses of wine involved!”

  “Wait until I tell Jemma! Do you know, I’ve waited more than twenty five years to get you back for all that bedwetting stick!”

  “Hang on! May I remind you that your wife once broke my jaw!”

  “Oh yeh, she did, didn’t she?”

  We continued to joust and laugh about the old times. I went into Richie’s house with a deep frown and left with a broad smile. Richie said that the only way he could think of dealing with the illness, was to find some dark humour in it. Sometimes its hard to find humour in a joke played at your expense, but I loved this one. It was like the old days, when we were kids and we had our whole lives ahead of us, if only that were still the case.

  Jemma

  I was shocked by what Richie was saying. We were sat in an Italian restaurant called the Café Bar in Ormskirk, discussing funeral arrangements. By this point, Richie had made the decision not to have a third session of chemotherapy. Following the first session of chemotherapy, he had had a second session of palliative chemotherapy, but when a third session was discussed, Richie and I were told the survival benefits were likely to be weeks or months rather than years, so Richie made the decision, with my consent, not to have it. Not all the family supported this decision. Helen and Dot, in particular, felt for the sake of our children, that Richie should not be giving up the fight. I think it was more down to the fact that they did not want to let go. I cannot pretend I was delighted with Richie’s decision either, but it was his decision and he felt that he would rather try to find some quality in his final days than battle through them with chemotherapy. I still think there is no right and wrong decision on this, it is purely an individual choice.

  Richie had lost a lot of weight. At that stage, he was down from a well toned fifteen stone to a thin looking eleven, but he was wanting to make every effort to get out and about whilst he still could. I think he only ate one small slice of pizza that day. The thing that had shocked me was the music Richie had chosen for his funeral.

  “ ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, is that not a song Liverpool fans sing?” I didn’t know much about football, but even I knew that.