by Belle Brooks
16. Go scuba diving.
17. Give a meaningful surprise to someone.
18. Watch the sun rise and set on the same day.
19. Spend a weekend at the springs and disconnect from life.
20. Learn Italian.
21. Cook an authentic Italian meal.
22. Be happy.
“Come on, May-Day, you need to get changed, honey,” Mum alerts me in passing as she shuffles around the house gathering all the things she is taking with us.
“Okay, Mum.”
Stepping outside, I get one more surprise. My wheelchair has been decked out in streamers and glitter. I laugh this time instead of crying. Today is going to be what dreams are made of, completing a task on one’s bucket list.
I’m nauseous when we get closer to the place this half marathon is being held. It’s only Willard and myself in my Corolla and every time I glance at him, my nerves increase, so I stop doing it because I feel as though I’m going to be sick.
The start line is absolutely packed and when I look to my left I get another huge wave of nervous energy because there’s now a large group of people—by large I mean maybe sixty to eighty people—wearing the shirts Mum made. How many did Mum make? Good God, I hope she’s not selling them.
The starter pistol is held high in the air and just before it blasts, Will yells, “Twenty-one K, baby, let’s kick some arse.”
A hysterical sound of laughter blasts out of my open mouth, but it’s quickly drowned by the sound of a deafening bang! With this noise, we are underway and an army of hot pink and white pom-poms flash into the air. My Mum is the best.
Willard maintains a steady pace as does Dad, who runs beside me. The breeze is fresh and brings with it the smell of salt water and eucalyptus. It doesn’t take long to reach the first marker, which sits to the side of the road at the five-and-a-half-kilometre mark, and I can’t help but squeal. Nothing is going to wipe the smile I’m wearing today from my face, for as long as I live.
Wellington is a beautiful little town. It has a pristine and well used flowing river that separates it from Foresty, the next town over. As we run beside the river, I continue to enjoy the fresh morning smell that morphs into one of salt water and damp leaves.
The race started at five-thirty a.m. and the sun is just now rising over the horizon. Pulling my coat tightly around my body, I think for just one moment about getting out of this wheelchair and placing my feet against the pavement. The desire to claim one more moment of the freedom that comes with running grows stronger, even more so since I could do it running alongside Willard and Dad…plus, it would help me get nice and warm. I don’t, of course. My baby, legs, hips, arms…well, all of me would not be grateful for doing so. But I close my eyes for a split second and picture what it might feel like.
The next marker shows ten kilometres and we are directed back the way we came. It means that in five and a half kilometres, we will be tackling the hill that was difficult to ascend not long ago.
Dad leans towards me and yells, “Drink more water, Slugger.”
I do as I’m told and grab the second water bottle from the saddle belt Dad attached this morning. Watching Dad run with his chest puffed out and his chin high fills me with so much joy, I think I might burst from how much.
The hill seems more difficult this time around for Willard. I can feel the tugging and hear his loud gasping as he prevents my wheelchair from running away from him. Without a word, Dad takes the handles of my brightly decorated chair. “I’ve got her, Will.” He puffs himself, and I watch Will force a strained smile when I finally get a clear look of his face.
“We’re nearly there, babe, just the school and the park to pass and we are done.”
“I love you,” I mouth.
“I love you too!” he screams for the world to hear. “I love you, Maybelline Connors, more than all the stars that freckle the sky.”
The primary school is now in sight and the marker for fifteen and half kilometres flashes in my view.
“Drink more water, babe!” Will shouts through a sudden whistling wind.
“Okay!” I call back.
Turning my eyes away from the passing nature I’ve spent so much time admiring since the last marker came into sight, I steady my eyes back to the road before flicking them to the opposite side.
The park is just around the next bend, this means so is the finish line. I suddenly realise this before I scream out, “I see it.” Instant shock sends my heart into a frantic sprint and I can’t bear the suspense that comes with the end being so close. The colours of Pink and white take my attention as pom-poms line either side of the road. My victorious moment awaits me and I wave like a queen on her throne to my allegiance of fans.
“Nearly there.” Dad grins, curving his head to the side as I tilt my head back to see him. “Come on, Will, take a handle. We will finish this as a team…together.”
Just as Will takes hold of the handle, I picture my father giving my hand to Willard in marriage on our special day. He never really gave me away to Will, though, he only ever shared me. The two men in my life who have continually shown me undeniable love now escort me to the finish line.
“Here we go!” I squeal when I know we are so close I can almost stretch my limbs outwards and touch the line. “Stop!” I shout suddenly as panic rushes through me, and with this bellow of noise, I’m halted.
“How many metres left?” My speech is rushed, I know it is, as Will’s eyes connect with mine.
“Ten, if that.”
“Let me run, Willard.”
“No.” He’s stern.
“Let me hobble then.”
“No.” He smiles before saying, “We can do this together no matter the weather.”
“No matter the weather, forever and ever.”
Willard nods before taking my hand in his.
Dad clasps the wheelchair and Willard flashes his toothy smile at me once more, this time with adoration.
Walking the last ten metres is invigorating. We don’t care about the time it has taken us to complete this. We only care about the finish.
“Maybelline…Maybelline…Maybelline…Maybelline!” is cheered loudly from the finish line and just before I make the end of the race, a sea of pink and white pom-poms gather around me. “We finish together,” they cheer just as Gem takes my other hand and tears trickle from my eyes.
Stepping over the white line drawn on the concrete, I tip my head back and stare at the never-ending blue sky. One large inhale has me yelling, “Fuck you, bucket list. I’m going to finish you.” Probably not the classist thing to yell in this situation, but for me, it meant everything.
Dad pushes the wheelchair to the back of my legs, and I drop down as our cheer squad thrusts their pom-poms around me in a circular motion.
“You rock, May.” Streeter kisses the top of my head.
“I do, don’t I?”
“Two hours and fifty-two minutes, Slugger,” Dad cheers before wrapping his arms around Mum, who’s smiling through her tears.
“Kiss me,” I demand, throwing my head back so Willard can lay his lips upon mine, and he doesn’t falter, kissing me in a way that melts my soul.
I slept for five hours after the half marathon. When I woke, I heard Willard tapping against the keys of his laptop again. He’s always on that thing. Trying to locate him, I’m quick to find him sitting on the floor strangely enough. Bending my head over the side of the bed, I flash Will a drowsy smile.
“Welcome back.” His lips tug upwards when he pops his head over the top of the screen.
“I had the best dream, honey.”
“What was it?” He stands.
“We went fossil hunting and you found the rarest thunder egg ever discovered. The colours were an array of midnight purples, and light pinks, and yellows. You had a piece of it cut and put onto a necklace and you said as long as I wore it everywhere, I’d be untouchable.”
“Sounds like an amazing dream.” Willard suddenly p
ulls his orange football jersey over his head until he stands before me with his chest naked.
“What are you doing?”
“Making love to you. It’s on your bucket list. I read them all again while you were sleeping. I made the list you see, I’m guessing you started this list before we had sex then. It specifically states this, ‘Lose my virginity to Willard.’”
I snicker. “Well, we’ve already crossed that one off now, haven’t we? And some.” I point enthusiastically to my stomach region.
“I’m not so sure. You may need to refresh my memory.” He draws closer until his lips hover over mine and he teases me, skimming them against the soft skin of my own.
“The doctors haven’t given us clearance yet, babe. Believe me when I say I really want to do this. I’m throbbing already from your touch, but I have to—”
“We’re cleared. Doctor Saunders told me when I went back into the room to get the piece of paper I’d asked her to write on.”
My eyes widen and my lips stretch the width of my face as he pulls his head back and our eyes connect. “Really?”
“Uh, uh.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
“You to say take me, Will, in a super sexy voice.”
“Willard, love of my life…take me.” I allow the vixen inside me to speak because I want this so badly. The need to wrap my legs behind his back and press them into the top of his bottom so he’s forced to grind against me is strong, but this is not possible. My legs are losing flexibility and quickly.
“We have to be really gentle, though,” he mumbles.
“Okay,” I murmur against his mouth before he kisses me.
“Slow and steady,” he adds, coming up for air.
“Yes.”
He kisses me again. “Tender and lovingly.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
Will pulls the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing from my body with extra caution, leaving me sitting in just my underwear. One glance downwards has his mouth following his eyes’ direction. I’ve waited so long for this touch again…I fear I might cry.
I’m surprised at how sore my hips are this morning. They hurt something chronic. I take two paracetamol tablets from the pack that permanently lives by the bed, but I’m still in agony. Some days I wish I could take stronger medication for managing my pain. Unfortunately, none of the ones that would give me complete relief are safe for the baby.
After another fourteen weeks, I will get the reprieve I’m seeking…well, if I’m here to ask for it, that is. Trying to move my right leg is difficult and an instant need to scream out in pain hits me like a freight train. Covering my mouth with both hands and pressing hard into my jaw manages to contain the sound behind my grimacing teeth. Willard will be devastated our gentle act of love making last night could be the reasoning behind my current predicament. How am I going to hide this from him? How the hell am I going to get up?
Slapping my desperate hand to grab my mobile phone off the bedside cupboard fails at first, but if at first you don’t succeed, you keep trying. I know I need help right now. Eventually after much thought of what to do, and knowing Mum and Dad won’t have their mobile phones in the room with them, I press the button to call John. John needs to take Willard away from here so I can get this sorted.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello,” he groans in a sleepy state.
“John, it’s May. I need you to find an excuse to take Willard out,” I speak quietly because I don’t want to disturb the soft snores coming from my husband beside me.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’m in a world of hurt and I need help.”
“Tell Will.”
“I can’t,” I confess. “John, I’m asking for your help.”
“Okay.”
“You can’t tell Will I’m in agony, though, okay?”
“Maybelline, what if you…” He breathes heavily.
“I’m not going to die while he’s gone. I promise, John. We did a little fooling around last night, okay, and it’s caused me some issues. It will kill Will if he thinks he’s the reason. Do you understand? I can’t get Mum and Dad because I’ll wake Willard—”
“Hear you loud and clear. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.”
“So, you can still—”
“Stop talking now. Just hurry up.”
His deep chuckle down the line almost causes me to giggle softly.
“Sssh. I’m trying to be quiet. When you get here I won’t be able to answer the door because I can’t get up. Take the spare keys from your parents’ house. Our key has a gold key tag attached. It’s engraved with W. M. Top drawer in the hallway.
“Gotcha.”
“Hurry. I need to pee bad.”
“Shit, May, you’re scaring me.”
“Stop talking and hurry up.”
The phone goes dead.
Shit, I didn’t tell him to come in and wake Will. Oh, he should figure he has to do this on his own. But what if he doesn’t, though? I’ll listen for the front door. It will be okay. May, it will be okay. I try to reassure myself through clenched tight teeth.
Lying here looking at the ceiling, I count how many times the fan blades spin around on the slow setting before John arrives…it spins six hundred and seven times.
The door to the bedroom opens slowly and I see an eyeball looking through the gap before half of John’s face appears.
“Hurry up.” I strain crossly.
He shrugs his shoulders when the door widens. Tip-toeing to my side of the bed, John looks down at me. “What do you want me to do?” he mouths.
“Carrying me to the toilet would be helpful,” I speak ever so softly.
John shakes his head.
“Seriously, I have cancer and I’m dying and you’re still going to let me lie here and wet my pants?”
“I hate how you use the dying cancer card to get your way,” he scolds quietly with a grin plastered to his face.
“Has to be done.” I snicker before pressing my hand to my mouth to stop the noise.
Bending down, John slips back the cover and slides one hand under my knees and the other one behind my head. “You ready?” he mouths.
I nod in response.
When my body is lifted, I suck in a sudden breath of air that automatically winds me.
“Oh, May, I’m sorry,” he whispers by my ear.
“I know.”
Sitting me down on the toilet, I wave my hand for him to close the door. “Wake Willard now,” I instruct before the door fully closes.
“Hey, meathead, get the fuck up!” I hear John tease as I roll my eyes in relief of urination.
“Hey, dude, shut up. You’ll wake May. How the hell did you get in here?” Will’s grumpy.
“May let me in, you dick. She’s on the toilet, if you must know.”
“Oh. Okay. What are you doing here this early in the morning anyway?”
There’s a long pause before John finally mutters, “We’re going fishing. May is sick of you and she needs you to get out of her hair for a bit.”
“She told you that?”
“Nah. Wake up to yourself. I just know if it were me, I’d be sick of you.”
“Will!” I shout.
“Get out of the room. I’ll come out in the lounge room soon.” Will doesn’t sound impressed.
“Fine.” John laughs.
The door slides open and Will looks down at me perched on the toilet. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning, handsome. Hey, can you carry me to bed? I’m too lazy and my leg’s aching again.”
He doesn’t question it, thank God, and complies after helping me get my underwear and boxer shorts back up.
“Thanks. You’re my hero.”
“Superhero, thank you.” Will raises only one eyebrow. How he can do this has always baffled me. He has tried to teach me over the years, but mine don’t seem to be able to mimic his instructions.
“Amazingly h
andsome superhero,” I add, kissing his cheek.
“So much better. Hey, John’s come around and wants to do some early morning fishing. I’m going out to tell him no and I’ll be back in a minute.”
“No, go. I think it would be good for you. Plus, Mum and Dad are only in the next bedroom. I’ll call out if I need them. Go do some fishing.”
“Are you sure?” His eyebrows cross in.
“Yes. Go. You better hurry up, though, because it’s early and the fish will be biting.”
“All right, I’ll go.” Will bends his head down before laying his lips against mine. “You taste so good.”
“I doubt it. I just woke up.” I smirk, still trying to disguise my agony. I don’t know how much longer I can.
“To me you do.”
The bedroom door swings open, catching me off guard. Rotating my eyes, I see Streeter grinning. “Less kissing, more fishing, let’s go.”
“Morning.” I wave, trying to hide the pain searing down my legs.
“Morning, beautiful.” He winks.
Will growls in response. “What I’d tell you about eyeing my wife like that? Get out.” Will follows this statement with a smirk as does Streeter. These two have always been the biggest larrikins––the mess about, take nothing seriously type—when they are together.
“Why don’t you both leave so I can go back to sleep?” I groan.
“I’ll be home soon, just sleep until I get back.” Will still seems wary about leaving me.
“Working on it, if you’d leave already.”
When the front door finally closes, I wait only a few seconds before desperately screaming out to Mum.
Clambering up the bed with her eyes still partly closed, she shouts, “May, May…what’s happening?”
“My hips are killing me. Please get some heat packs and I need two Advil.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Mum scurries away as fast as she entered and I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I cry and I cry hard. Dad must hear the noises I’m making because weary and confused, he too clambers up the bed.
“Slugger, I’m here, what’s happening?”
“My hips, Daddy, they’re really hurting.”
“It’s going to be okay. I’m calling an ambulance.”
