“Right, let’s get this dress sorted.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
When James gets home around seven I am waiting for him. Everyone has gone out, leaving us the house to ourselves. I have made the most of it by setting the outside table and decorating it with candles. Because it is still daylight outside the effect is lost, but I know later it will be romantic and atmospheric.
“Hey.” He smiles when he walks into the lounge. I am in the kitchen, having just poured him a cold beer when I heard his car pull up. “Where is everyone?”
“Out.” I pass him the beer and he takes it, gulping thirstily.
“All of them?” he asks after a long drink, wiping the froth from his upper lip.
“Every last one. We have the place all to ourselves.”
“Mm, well in that case, we better make the most of it.” He pulls me in close for a kiss, and for a moment I think I am wrong, that he is still the same James he was when we kissed by the waterfall, but then he hesitates and pulls away, and I see something flicker across his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, trying hard to keep my voice level.
“Nothing.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m just hungry. Shall we cook or order in?”
“I’ve already ordered. Thai will be delivered at eight.”
“You’re pretty perfect, you know that?”
Which is, of course, incorrect. I am as defective as it gets. But I just smile sweetly and say nothing.
“OK if I just grab a quick shower?”
“Of course.”
When he emerges, damp and smelling of spicy aftershave, I feel an overwhelming surge of smug pride at the sight of him, wondering not for the first time how I got so lucky.
“Feel better?” I ask.
“Much.”
“How was your friend?”
Immediately he looks shifty. It’s a fleeting look, but I know I haven’t imagined it. “He’s good. It was really good to see him.”
“Is he an old photographer friend?”
“Something like that.”
It is clear that he doesn’t want to discuss his day, which proves my earlier suspicions that something is wrong. But in that moment, I realize that I am scared to know the truth. If James is having second thoughts about us, I’m not sure I want to know, because I don’t know how I will cope without him. We are both saved by the doorbell. James looks at me quizzically.
“Dinner,” I say quietly.
“Of course.” He picks up his wallet from the bench and goes to make the transaction. I sink back against the bench and breathe deeply a few times. I can’t lose him. I can’t.
By the time he brings the bags of food into the kitchen I have composed myself, standing with two glasses of wine poured and a smile plastered on.
“I thought we’d eat outside,” I say.
“Good idea. Plates?”
“Already out there.”
I follow him outside. The sky has started to darken, the sun on its path to awaken peacefully slumbering folk on the other side of the earth. We sit and eat, or he does. I manage a few mouthfuls but I have no appetite. The food is tasty, and once upon a time I would have eaten so much I’d have suffered from indigestion and still thought it was worth it. But I am on edge. I have that uneasy anticipatory feeling one gets before a storm hits; when you’ve heard all the weather reports forecasting doom and don’t know whether to bunker down or go on one last, extravagant spending spree. James notices the food still on my plate and pauses in between mouthfuls.
“Not hungry?”
I shake my head.
“Are you feeling OK?” His voice is heavy with concern, but for the first time I notice an undercurrent of fear, almost lost in the deep timbre of his voice. It affirms my belief that he is worried about what is to come.
“Yes. Fine.”
He gives me an odd look but takes another mouthful.
“And you?” I ask.
He swallows. “Me?”
“Yes. You. Are you feeling OK?”
He frowns. “You mean, health wise?”
“I mean any wise, really. Anything on your mind?”
“No.”
It’s there again. That fleeting look of deception. He is not telling me something.
“Tell me more about this friend of yours.”
He puts down his utensils and pushes his plate away. “What do you want to know?”
I shrug. “Let’s start with the basics. A name. How do you know him? Is he from around here?”
“His name is Henry. I have known him for a long time, ten years or more. No, he is not from around here.”
“Is there a reason why you’re being deliberately vague?”
“I’m not having an affair, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Of course not. I didn’t think that for a second.”
“Then what? I don’t understand what it is that you’re accusing me of.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. But you’re holding back, and I know that something is wrong.” My voice becomes shaky. “I feel like I’m losing you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t call me ridiculous.”
“I’m not. I didn’t. Not you. I just meant…” He sighs. “Are you feeling up for a walk on the beach?”
I’m not, not really, but I don’t tell him that. “Yes.”
He stands and holds out a hand. I hesitate.
“Trust me,” he says quietly, imploringly.
I take his hand and look up into his eyes, willing him to be strong enough for me. “Always.”
The moon, low over the water, lights our way. At first I think it is full, but closer inspection reveals a sliver missing on the bottom right side. The tiniest fraction of moon still hidden in shadow. Another cycle and her full glory will be revealed. I’ve always loved a full moon. For one night a month, it shines down with a mystical beauty that unleashes the crazy and the poetical within us all; a free pass to release your wild side. I kissed a stranger beneath a full moon once, something I’ve never been brave enough to do before or since. A whim at a teenage party on a night long ago, I’d forgotten all about it, but now the memory makes me smile. I wonder if he remembers too.
“Are you cold?”
James’s voice rouses me from the past.
“No.”
“Come here anyway.”
He pulls me into his side, an arm around my shoulders. Not for the first time I marvel at how well I fit into his side, as if we were measured for this exact purpose. He kisses the top of my head and we fall into a slow walk, our feet bare in the sand, our path lit by the moon. The surface of the ocean is like a mirror, luminescent with the light from above. It is so beautiful and I am feeling so maudlin I start to cry. James stops and turns me to face him, pulling my chin up gently.
“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. The usual.”
“Stupid question, really.”
I shrug. “Still better to ask it than to not ask at all.”
“You just don’t seem yourself tonight.”
“I could say the same about you,” I retort. “You’ve been so closed off lately, so secretive. If you’re having second thoughts about us, James, you only need to say. I don’t want you to stay with me out of pity, or because you feel like you have to.”
“I don’t feel like that at all.” He frowns, genuinely puzzled. “Is that what you think? That I’ve fallen out of love with you?”
“I don’t know what to think.” I wipe my tears on the back of one hand.
He sighs. “Sit.”
“No. If you have something bad to say I’d rather hear it standing.”
“Please.” He sits down himself and tugs at my hand. I let myself fall carefully, until I am settled between his legs, my back nestled in against his chest. He rubs his face softly against the side of my head, his lips kissing my hair softly, and his words when he speaks are clear and unmistakabl
e.
“I love you, Ava. That hasn’t changed, nor will it ever.”
“But something is on your mind, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But not what you’re thinking.”
“Then tell me.”
“OK, but it has to stay between us. It’s all hush-hush at the moment. My friend, Henry. He’s an award-winning journalist, but more than just your average one. He’s like a kind of modern-day explorer, like Cook, or Columbus. He seeks out the unknown, or as yet undiscovered. About six months ago he found a previously unknown civilization deep in the South American jungle. They are as primitive as it gets, and he was very nearly killed and probably would have been eaten for dinner. But somehow—and I don’t know how he does it but he has this effect on most people he meets—he won them over enough that they let him stay with them for a time, observing their ways.”
“Wow, that’s…pretty amazing.”
“It really is. They live their entire lives hundreds of feet above the ground, in huts built into the canopy of the trees, all interconnected and pretty well camouflaged. They have their own system of catching rainwater and everything, and they only go down to the ground to hunt for food.”
His voice grows more animated as he talks, and I realize what’s coming.
“He wants you to go back with him,” I say quietly, cutting him off mid-speech.
He is silent for a moment and then he speaks quietly. “He does.”
“You want to go.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.” His voice grows harsh. “Not now. Not while you’re still…”
I sit forward, angry. “That’s unfair. I can’t be the thing that stops you from living your life.”
“Ava. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turn my head to look over my shoulder.
“You are my life.” His voice is raspy. “I’m not going. I’ve already told him that. He is looking for someone else.”
I shake my head, hot tears in my eyes. “This isn’t fair. None of it. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“Yes I did. I knew what I was getting in for from the start.”
“Knowing something is coming and actually having to deal with it, though, are two different things.”
“Ava—”
I push away from him and climb to my feet, feeling a desperate need to get out of my skin. I start to claw at myself, feeling such a hatred I have never felt before. Hatred against myself, not the essence of me, but the physical part, the part that is failing and useless and beyond my control. It is bad enough it is hurting me, but I can’t bear the thought of what it is doing to him too. Sobbing, I rip at my clothes, my hair, my skin.
“Ava, stop.” His voice is terrified as he tries to stop me, but I am like a wild animal and I spin away from him, gasping, panting, heading for the water. I need to be clean, to shed this shell that is pathetic and faulty. That can’t do the things I need it to do; that won’t give me the future I long for and deserve.
The water is cool and takes my breath away, and I push through it until I am waist deep, then I dive, kicking away from the shore. Under the surface all sound of the world disappears. I enter a silence and darkness so complete it stills my fury. With my eyes closed, I hold my breath and let myself relax, floating, my hair splayed around me. This is how it must feel, I think. All I’d have to do is breathe out. Then I feel arms around me, and I am jerked to the surface. The silence is gone.
“Ava, what the hell are you trying to do?” He is angry, scared.
“Nothing,” I mumble, without opening my eyes. He scoops me into his arms and I relax against his chest, weightless in the gentle embrace of the water. I am more tired than I ever believed possible.
“I’m taking you home.”
“I’m already there,” I whisper.
Chapter Forty
I wake up as if I am still underwater. Disorientated, unsure which way is up and which is down. The light is harsh and I blink at it, wondering why it’s so bright and why it’s changed shape, elongated rather than circular.
“She’s awake.”
My mother’s face swims into focus. Too close. I can see the remnants of day-old makeup in her creases, her eyeliner smudged beneath a bleary eye.
“Oh, you gave us a fright, love.”
“Did I? Where are we?”
She puts a hand on my shoulder before she speaks, whether to comfort or restrain I’m unsure. “Hospital.”
I frown, trying to remember my last conscious thought but feeling as if I have entered into a conversation halfway. “How long? Why?”
“Just since last night. You were home with James, remember? He said you were acting a little bit off. Then you stopped responding to him altogether so he called an ambulance. They’ve run some tests, which we’re still waiting for the results of, but the doctor is pretty sure you had a seizure.”
“A seizure?”
“You know, like a fit,” Dad says, trying to be helpful.
“I don’t understand.” I struggle up on to my elbows. “Where’s James?”
My parents exchange looks, and then my mother makes what she thinks is a soothing noise. It might have worked when I was four, but right now it does nothing to settle my confusion. The door opens and Dr. Harrison’s head pops through.
“Is this a bad time?” he asks.
“No,” my mother replies. “Come in.”
“Yes,” I say. “Go away.”
“Ava.” Mum gives me a scolding look. It is a reminder that no matter how sick I am, I was raised to be polite to people in authority. Out of habit, I look down apologetically.
Dr. Harrison comes into the room and closes the door behind him. Closed doors mean bad news, in my experience.
“How are you feeling, Ava?” he asks.
“Confused.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I don’t know why I’m here. I can’t remember…” I try again to remember something. The last thing I can remember is James. The beach. The almost-full moon. His friend, the job offer.
“Confusion and memory loss are normal after suffering a seizure.”
“There’s nothing normal about any of this,” I say helplessly. “Why did I have a seizure?”
He takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, buying himself some time. Probably wishing he was on a golf course somewhere, anywhere, rather than here. Why would anyone choose a career where you have to convey awful news to good people?
“We will know for sure after a scan and some more tests, but judging from your symptoms and preliminary results, it’s highly likely the cancer has metastasized to your brain.”
My mother starts to cry. My father puts his arms around her and braces himself to be the strong one today. I feel the bottom drop out of my world.
I look Dr. Harrison in the eyes. “What does that mean?”
He gives a small shrug. “It means the disease is progressing. We do have some treatment options available.”
“Surgery?”
“No.”
“Am I going to go crazy? Before I die?”
“No, not crazy, no. But there will be…effects. Yes.”
I lie back against the pillows. “I want to be alone for a while.”
“Of course.” He backs away from the bed. “We can discuss everything more once we know exactly what we’re dealing with. In the meantime you need to rest up.”
He’s almost out the door when I call his name. He turns back around.
“Yes?”
“When can I get out of here?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an exact answer for that, Ava. We need to run some more tests, like I said, and keep an eye on those seizures. Don’t worry, this is the best place for you to be right now and we’re going to take good care of you.”
“I have an important event I need to be at, on Saturday.”
“This Saturday?”
I nod.
“I can’t make any promises, I’m sorry
. We just have to take it a day at a time for now.”
He leaves the room and Mum comes back to my side.
“We can postpone,” she says. “If need be.”
“Till when?” I say angrily, tears escaping faster than I can blink them away. “It’s not like I’m ever going to be feeling any better, am I? It’s only going to get worse.”
She takes my hand and tries to squeeze it, but I pull away. “He’s right, though, Ava. This is the best place for you to be right now. The only place for you to be. Your health must come first.”
“My health,” I laugh bitterly. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“I know you’re disappointed. And we know how much you want this.” My father has come to stand at my mother’s side. “But your mother’s right. We can postpone.”
“I want to sleep. You guys should go home for a while.”
“I’m staying right here,” Mum says firmly.
“No.” I look at her pleadingly. “Please, Mum. I meant what I said. I need some time alone.”
She swallows hard and nods, then kisses me on my forehead, her lips lingering for a full minute.
“I love you,” she says. “So much.”
“I love you too. Both of you. I’ll see you later.”
I lie there, crying and thinking, while the shadows on the wall lengthen. I think about everything. But, most of all, I think about James. The next time I wake, the room is darker. The light has been dimmed, by whom I don’t know, but presumably a nurse. It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the shadows, and when they do I give a start. There is a figure sitting on the chair in the corner, face turned to the window. At my sharp intake of breath the head turns and the person gets up to walk swiftly to the bed.
“Ava? Ava, it’s me. James. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No. You were pretty out of it. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He smiles warmly, but there are new shadows underneath his eyes.
“I must have given you quite a fright too,” I say, and he looks at me, puzzled. “Last night.” I remind him.
“Oh. Yes. That was…pretty intense.”
“What are we doing?” I say softly.
“What do you mean?”
Photos of You Page 23
