by Sean Kennedy
“Then why are you ‘concerned’?” I even did the requisite finger motions.
Pelier moved to sit behind his desk, and I returned to Dec. He immediately grabbed my hand, and his grip was bone-crushing. It was as if he had been given the news about himself. Instead, I was struck by the intense lighting of Pelier’s room and how it seemed more like an art gallery than a doctor’s office. I was talked about as if I were an inanimate object, and it seemed fitting.
“It could just be a cyst or a calcification. But we’re going to have to do a biopsy before anything else. I’ll have to refer you to an oncologist.”
And there it was—the big word associated with the big C that meant only one thing: we had crossed from non-official to official danger zone.
“Okay,” I said. “Well, let’s get that organised, then.”
“IT’S JUST a little lump,” I told Dec as we walked, a little shell-shocked, back to our car. “Mind you, I thought he was talking about my penis at first.”
I wanted him to laugh, but he looked at me, horrified. “That’s not funny.”
“I thought he was actually being complimentary.”
“Simon, stop,” he pleaded.
I didn’t want to. I liked being snarky. It made me feel like I could take on the world and succeed at it. Who wants to think of the million and one ways that life could crush you without a second thought? Not me, and I didn’t want Dec to either.
But I noticed how pale he was. He obviously wasn’t trying to fight his fears off; he was letting them swamp him.
“Dec, it’ll be okay.” I don’t know how I managed to say it with such conviction, but he knew it was a lie anyway. I was just as much in the dark as he was.
“We don’t know that.”
“Well, try and be positive!” Man, I really didn’t even know who I was right now.
He grabbed me and kissed me, passionately, desperately, as if he was trying to prove to himself that I was still in the world. And that was what scared me the most.
“We have to take this seriously,” he said. “And we have to figure out what to do next.”
“I’ve already booked the biopsy,” I reminded him.
“I mean, telling everybody what’s going on.” He started walking again and didn’t even realise I hadn’t fallen into step with him.
“No,” I said.
That stopped him in his tracks, and he whirled around. “What?”
“I don’t want everyone to know. Not just yet, anyway.”
“Simon, we have to tell them.”
“No, we don’t have to do anything. I don’t want to worry them all until there’s something to worry about.”
At least there was a little bit of colour coming back into his face. I would rather have him angry than distraught. “We already have something to worry about!”
“I mean, when we have something concrete.”
He didn’t say anything, just got into the car and waited for me to join him. I knew this was going to be an argument that would leave neither of us satisfied. Was it selfish of me to demand it?
Well, it was happening to my body. If it was happening to Dec, then he could make the decision he wanted to.
And then it hit me. If it was happening to Dec.
It almost made my knees buckle beneath me, and I finally understood how he felt. The thought of the person I loved more than anybody in the world and who I relied upon for so many things to get through this life—the thought of Dec being sick without a single thing I could do about it—made me want to vomit.
I resolved to be much nicer, and much more patient, with him when I got into the car.
That was when my mobile rang.
“WHO WAS on the phone?” Dec asked as I gingerly settled upon the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.
“Uh, it was the fertility clinic.” I tried to calm the slight hysteria starting to rise within me.
“What did they want?”
“They want me to come in. Now.”
“Why—” Dec broke off.
“Don’t panic,” I told him.
“Don’t tell me not to panic!”
“We don’t know what they want me to come in for.” Denial was a great place to be. “My test could have been compromised, which means they want another sample, in which case I want you to come back in with me because, really, that was a lot of fun last time—”
“You’re babbling.”
“No, I’m not. I’m talking the way I normally talk. You always say I rabbit on, and I guess that’s true, but it doesn’t mean I’m nervous or panicky or anything like I think you’re suggesting, it just means I’m talking like Simon, the Simon you’ve always known, and I don’t believe that’s ever going to change—”
His hand closed over mine. “Good. I don’t want it to.”
That line lay heavily between us as he freed my hand and started the car.
I wished he could have kept it there.
WE HADN’T even met our doctor at the fertility clinic yet, but she was warm and personable, and Dec and I both took to her straight away.
Dr. Eve Wheeler had come highly recommended, and Nyssa had met with her last time she was in Melbourne. Dr. Wheeler had experience of the most personal kind, as she and her partner had gone through IVF. Her partner carried their child, but Dr. Wheeler had supplied the egg, and to their great shock, they ended up with triplets.
Triplets. Imagine my fear of having one child, multiplied by three at once.
“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” she began, and Dec’s hand immediately squeezed mine.
That also wasn’t the best introductory line to our meeting either.
I held up my hand. “I think I know where you’re going.”
Wheeler looked concerned. “Well—”
“We’ve just come from our doctor.” I was trying to be as clinical as possible. “I have a lump in my testicles, and I’m booked in for a biopsy in a couple of days.”
Wheeler’s frown lessened, but not much. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re getting the treatment you need.”
“So, what’s wrong with me?” I asked. “Besides the obvious.”
“Simon,” Dec said softly.
“I meant the lump,” I told him. “But we’re obviously here because something’s showing in my tests.”
“You’re right,” Wheeler said. “Your tests show that your active sperm count is zero.”
“Zero?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Dec rest his head in his free hand and rub at his temples.
I wasn’t stupid. When I’d gotten the call, knowing I had something wrong with my balls, a low sperm count immediately came to mind. But zero?
“I’m sterile,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
Wheeler nodded. “I know it’s a shock.”
“And Dec?” I asked, as if my lump was contagious.
“All good,” she assured me.
Of course he is.
I was horrified at that stray bitter thought. In fact, I hated myself for thinking it. Sure, Dec had been blessed with good looks, exceptional sporting ability, fame, fortune, etc., etc. but I knew he had gotten it on his own merits and through hard work (except for the good looks—that was down to genetics, I guess). And I wouldn’t wish sterility on him, because goddammit, the world needed those genes passed down. But he seemed like the golden boy: untouched and unsullied. I envied him.
“We do offer counselling,” Wheeler continued. “I can set up an appointment for you now, if you like.”
I shook my head and got to my feet, releasing Dec’s hand. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Hang on!” Dec said.
“No, it’s fine.” I was looking at Wheeler, unable to meet Dec’s gaze. “I don’t need a counsellor. But we still have a viable donor with Dec, so that’s the most important thing. We’ll continue as we planned.”
I needed air. I managed to choke out a quick goodbye as I made my way outside and
stared out onto the busy road bordering the clinic. Not much fresh air here, really. I decided to head back to the car; Declan would eventually realise that’s where I was. Who knew what he was talking about with Wheeler, and how long he could be.
But he was right behind me, dogging my footsteps. “Simon!”
I kept walking. All I wanted was the car. And then home.
Home. The place that didn’t even feel like home yet, as we hadn’t been in it that long. Even Maggie was still unsettled, finding a variety of new hidey-holes and ignoring my entreaties to come out.
I knew how she felt.
I stopped at the car, knowing Dec had the keys. Almost instantly, his hand was on my shoulder, and when I turned to him his embrace was ready. I sank into his warm, hard flesh, but I think he was just as much hanging on to me as I was to him.
Still, I couldn’t cry. It was like the faucet had been turned off, even though I wanted to let the tears flow and release the pressure. There was a hard little nugget in my heart, probably even harder than the one in my balls; the final realisation that something serious must be wrong with me, if it had gotten to the point I was sterile.
“Let’s go home,” Dec said.
Another realisation: home wasn’t a place. Home was with him, wherever that happened to be.
So in that moment, the converted fire station had truly become our home. I guess I was realising a lot of things today.
WE WERE both quiet the whole drive home, and when I got into the house, I was relieved to see Maggie sitting on our bed. I wedged myself in between her and the wall, and let her warm belly soothe me. Dec’s would have been just as nice, but he had disappeared, and I was thankful to have a little time to myself and digest everything that had just happened.
“Are you okay?” I heard Dec ask, and with a jerk I saw the sun had gone down and I had been asleep.
For a moment I hoped the events of the day had been a dream, and like Dorothy, I’d find myself at home, where everything was just as it had ever been, although I now saw my world was sepia-toned rather than Technicolored.
No such luck.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Are you hungry?”
I actually was. We decided to order in some Thai rather than commit to cooking, because neither of us felt like doing that or the washing up.
Maggie stuck close to me. While we sat at the dining table with the lights dimmed so we could look out onto St. Georges Road, she perched her front paws on my feet, causing me to be unable to move or even shift my weight if I needed to.
We hadn’t even talked about today yet, so I decided we might as well just get it out in the open.
“So the kids will have your genes. It’s probably for the best, anyway. We want them to start off on the best foot in life, and your DNA should be preserved for future generations.”
Dec’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, and he glared at me. “Is that meant to be funny?”
“A little bit?” I sounded unsure of myself.
“It’s not.” He resumed eating.
I put my food aside, no longer hungry. “Well, think about it. They’ll have good looks, a sterling personality, kindness, exemplary sporting prowess, and a fine brain. Everything we would want in a kid.”
He laid his fork down, heavily. “Yeah, because they would be so badly off if they got your good looks—”
I snorted.
“—your fucking brilliant brain that goes a mile a minute, your sense of humour, your kindness, and let’s face it, I wouldn’t even mind if they had your snark.”
“It is my superpower,” I admitted. “But it’s a moot point. They aren’t going to be my kids.”
I didn’t mean it that way, and I could see Dec about to lose it, so I quickly added, “Biologically speaking.”
This didn’t calm him down as much as I hoped it would.
“They’ll be our kids, no matter who the biological father is,” he reminded me.
“I know, but my genetics won’t be part of them. So it’s no use going on about how they won’t have my eyes, or my brain, or whatever else. It’s just a fact.”
“You’re sounding really cold-blooded.” He shoved his plate away, obviously done for the night as well. It lifted up a little, almost sending the food slopping onto the table, but his hand slammed down on it.
“Not cold-blooded. Just facts. It’s better this way.”
“Look, I know you’re upset. I am too. But just brushing it off isn’t going to help either of us. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to do some counselling?”
“If I wanted to do counselling, I’d do it. I’m not scared of it.”
“Wanting and needing are completely different.” He clasped his hands together and stared at the floor. I wished he would look at me.
We were growing irritable with each other, even though we were coming from the same place: fear and uncertainty.
When I didn’t answer, he sighed.
“We should probably make some calls,” he said.
“Who are we calling?”
“Your folks,” he said, as if I was stupid. “My folks. Fran and Roger. Abe and Lisa.”
“No, we’re not calling anybody,” I said. “Didn’t you hear me back at the car?”
“I thought that was just a knee-jerk reaction.”
“No, it was what I fucking wanted. Or what I needed.”
He was stunned. “You can’t not tell them.”
“Yes, I can. I don’t want anybody to know unless there’s something bad.”
“There’s something bad now.” His voice had actually started to shake.
But I couldn’t deal with that right now. “I don’t want them all fussing over me.”
“Well, tough!” Now he was looking at me. And he wasn’t happy.
Being numb to everything at this point made it easier to say what I actually wanted. “This is happening to me. So I get to make that decision.”
Dec was stricken. “This is happening to us. We’re a team.”
“Oh, have you got a lump in your balls too?”
He was silent.
“Because if you don’t, it’s happening to me. And I don’t want them to know.”
He was truly angry now, and he had every reason to be. I knew I was being stubborn, and although I could see things from his point of view, I felt he wasn’t being very receptive to my own. “I may not have a lump, but you are everything to me. Did you ever think that because I love you so damn much, I would maybe want to see you in our kids? That they would be off to a pretty damn good start if it was your DNA? Or that if it’s even worse, I can’t imagine a world that you might not be in?”
“Oh, honey. You have this terrible blind spot when it comes to me.”
It was the stupidest thing to say. Which made Dec’s reaction justifiable.
“Just shut the fuck up.” And for what was perhaps the first time in years, Dec stormed out of the room in a strop.
I finished my dinner, for want of nothing else to do.
Chapter Six
I CRASHED on the lounge that night and woke to find Dec standing over me as sunlight streamed in through the window.
“You have an hour until we have to leave for the oncologist,” he said. “If you want to have a shower or something.”
He didn’t wait for my reaction, heading for the kitchen before I could say anything.
This was bad.
I followed him out, wincing at the cold tile beneath my bare feet. “Have you had a shower?”
“Do I look like I’ve had a shower?” At least he was talking to me. That was something, I guess.
But he was still pissed. I was still pissed.
“You know what, I can drive myself.” And I turned and headed upstairs for our bathroom.
I had hoped he would run after me and at least continue the argument, but he didn’t. My shower was brief, and I was only half-dressed when I walked into our room and found him crying on the bed.
The fight wen
t out of me and I sat next to him, taking him in my arms. For a long time, we didn’t say anything until I broke the silence. “We have to start being nicer to each other if we’re going to get through this.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“So, please, can we just keep this between us until we know something more concrete?”
“Okay.”
We said our apologies and I-love-yous, and with only slightly lightened hearts got ready to go on the next stage of this awful adventure.
DR. HEW was our oncologist; Dr. Wheeler had said he was one of the best, and Dec insisted we take him on.
“Can you imagine the excess we’ll have to pay on our insurance?” I asked, only to be met with a withering look.
Once again I was subjected to the indignity of having a man who wasn’t my partner fiddle with my bits. This time I had even changed into one of those awesomely flattering paper robes which rustled loudly every time Hew’s hands moved beneath it.
I grew impatient (and was in pain) as my balls were manhandled, squeezed, moved apart and pushed together. “Well?”
Hew stood upright and peeled off his latex gloves. “Look, we have to remove it, no matter what. We’ll schedule a biopsy, and then we can figure out the next plan of action.”
I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I would wake up.
“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Dec said.
Hew briefly laid his hand on mine. “You can get dressed now, Simon.”
I disappeared behind the screen and started pulling my clothes back on. Dec was watching me like a hawk.
“It’s medical stuff,” I told him from across the room. “They’re just as much in the dark until we get the results back.”
“Not entirely in the dark,” Doctor Hew said. “And Declan, I know you’re worried. But we’ve caught this early. That’s a good thing.”
But all I kept thinking was, what if we didn’t catch it that early? Who knew, really, how long this thing had been growing inside me, doing damage while I was totally oblivious? And it had been Dec who found it. How long would it have taken me? I’d already been ignoring the warning signs for a few weeks, making every excuse under the sun for why my balls were hurting so much and not getting better. If Dec hadn’t forced me to go to the doctor, then I could have gone on until my balls burst. Would they have burst? I didn’t know. I’m glad I didn’t find out.
