Always You Page 3

  “Take a seat and we’ll talk about it, shall we?”

  As we sit down in chairs side by side, Gem retrieves a notebook from her handbag and a pen. Opening the cover, she firmly says, “Talk.”

  Dr. Brown does.

  All I hear is blah, blah, blah, cancer, cancer, cancer, die, die, die. Followed by a big ‘Game Over.’

  Gem writes on the paper like a serial killer plotting a murder. It rattles me.

  I wait for her to ask the question I wish I were brave enough to ask myself. But she doesn’t and by the end of our appointment, Doctor Brown stands, taking down my films before telling me he would see me next Thursday in the surgery part of the clinic where I will have my biopsy.

  “Hang on. What? That’s it?” I hurriedly bark, annoyed.

  “Well, unless you have some questions you’d like to ask me today, May.”

  “I do. I have a big one. I want to know if I’m going to d—” I try so hard, but I can’t say it. Rubbing my hand over my face, I huff loudly, before my fingers twist franticly in my lap.

  “Do you want me to say it?” Gem whispers softly against my ear.

  “Well, yes. That’s why I brought you. I can’t say it.” I huff through a jaw throbbing from tension.

  Wrapping her hands around my head, just like she’s done since we were kids, Gem pulls me into a tight embrace. “I’ll say it, okay?”

  “Okay.” My heart beats loudly and fiercely as my fingers hurt because of their contorted state.

  “Doctor Brown. Is May going to die?” Her throat goes hoarse on deliverance, but she manages to slip it out.

  Without so much as a blink of his eyes Doctor Brown answers, “Given the extent of the cancer we are seeing, we do believe it to be quite advanced. However, until we have the biopsy results we can’t give you an exact answer to your question today.”

  “It’s not looking good, though, is it?” Gem chokes.

  “No, May, it’s not.” He answers her question to me.

  “Okay. Thank you, Doctor,” Gem says before putting the notebook and pen back into her bag.

  “Can I have a baby?” I blurt spontaneously, because I must know.

  “No, May, we would highly recommend that you do not conceive a child.”

  “What if I’m already pregnant?”

  Gem’s eyes become saucer wide. Her tears fall fast. “Are you pregnant, May?”

  “I’ll know in two days if I am.”

  “Have you been trying to conceive?” Doctor Brown’s eyes narrow as he removes his glasses.

  “Yes. For four months.”

  “Well, we need to get blood tests done immediately. We need to know if you are so we can organise a termination at six weeks.” He slips his glasses back up his nose and starts tapping the keys on a computer.

  “I can’t keep it if I am?” My voice rises as anguish falls like a sheet coating my skin.

  “No, May. If you’re not terminal, then we are going to have to use a lot of radiation and chemotherapy. Babies don’t survive drugs like these ones. Not to mention the surgeries you might need to undertake. And if you’re terminal, you won’t survive long enough to give a baby a fighting chance at life. A baby will shorten any time you may have left.”

  “Oh.” My heart thumps a hard beat, before it shatters into a million tiny fragments. I automatically begin praying in my mind. Please don’t let me be with child. Termination is not something I think I could ever see myself doing, for any reason.

  As I hobble into the car, Gem’s eyes still ooze spontaneous liquid as they grow puffy. “You could be pregnant?” she whispers.

  “Yes, and I could be dying.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you wake me up now, Gem,” I plead as my sight becomes blurred from the tears pooling rapidly.

  “If I could, May, I would. I really would. I think you need to talk to Will.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. Okay?”

  “You need to.” Gem leans over the lifted hand break and pulls me to her. “I can’t lose you.” She sobs against my cheek. “Why didn’t you go sooner, May? Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  “I’m sorry, Gem.” My throat stings from holding back more tears demanding to be released. “I’ll do a home pregnancy test tomorrow, instead of Friday. I don’t want to learn the answer from the doctor’s lips. I want to be with Will like we have every month.”

  Gem holds up the red and white blood test form. “You have to do this, today.”

  “No, tomorrow. Please, Gem, let me have one more moment like this with Will.”

  “Okay.” Gem wipes at her face with both palms, trying to destroy the evidence of her despair. Then she uses the back of her thumbs and wipes under both my eyes. “What if it’s positive?”

  “Then I have a lot to figure out, don’t I?”

  She slowly nods, slipping the blood form into my hands. “We will fight this. We will win, May.”

  “Baby, wake up.”

  Will moans in response, rolling onto his back.

  “Wakey-wakey, rise and shine, the sun is up and it’s pee stick time,” I sing a childish tune in a whisper against his lips before kissing him with depth.

  “Wait? What?” Will pushes his arms out, causing me to fall backwards. Rubbing hard into his eyes, his voice croaks, “May, May.” A shadow of stubble covers his chin as I bring my cheek to his.

  “Hang on. It’s not Friday. It’s Thursday.” His face creases with confusion as I tilt my head backwards.

  “Yes. I know it’s Thursday.”

  “But we don’t test until Friday.” He runs his hands through his lightened locks.

  “You can test a day earlier than your period.”

  “You’re telling me this now? Why have we not been doing it this way every month? You know I hate to wait.”

  “I know you do.”

  Will wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to his lap, kissing a trail across my cheek before placing them against my lips. “My baby is going to be having my baby.” The corniest line ever, but so perfect from Will. I’d expect nothing less in such a situation.

  I smile with sincerity, because I need to give Will this moment once more in his life. I need to let him believe everything is going to be okay and we have a future of babies, grandbabies, and great grandbabies. I need to let him complete his monthly ritual on this day. My smile broadens with images of Will already sitting perched on the vanity top with a stop watch in hand set to the dreaded three minutes the test demands. Allowing Will to nuzzle his head between my breasts when the digital test says, ‘Not Pregnant,’ is important. “It will be next month. I know it will,” he’ll then say, his positivity never faltering, not for a second.

  Snapping back to the here and now, the urge to pee is strong with Will squeezing my bladder against his stomach. “Quick, I’m peeing.” The desperation from my voice has Will scooping me into his arms and us stumbling out of bed. Will loses his footing, causing us both to crash heavily to the carpet. Laughter fills the room and we both laugh to the point our eyes glaze. I try hard to ignore the pain strangling my upper right leg and immerse myself in this moment of happiness with my husband. Who knows if we will get many more moments like this. What if I am terminal? Terminal, I hate the way this word sounds. I hate the way it’s spelt. I hate the meaning—it delivers the end.

  “We’re going to be the best parents,” Will teases, once he’s composed, grabbing my hand and reefing me to my feet.

  “The best,” I mouth, disheartened.

  “One stick. Check.” The sound of the wrapper peeling away tells me Will is not leaving the bathroom again this month and he has prepared our delivery device.

  “Why, thank you, Willard.” I smirk as he places it into my shaking hand.

  “Take the cap off. Five seconds of urine only, and let the first bit out. Go for gold, honey.” Will’s encouragement and over informed memory of how this whole pee on a stick situation goes down has me laughing.

  “Hey, hey, stop laughi
ng. We need pee on the stick, May, not everywhere.”

  “Right.” I continue my laughter. “Done.” I exhale, removing the device from between my legs.

  Will is quick to take it from my grip before replacing the cap. “Come on pregnant!” he cheers with a hopeful glow to his skin.

  God, he’s so damn cute.

  “Stop watch is going. Stick is flat. We’ve got this, baby.”

  “We’ve got this,” I repeat, pulling my pajama bottoms over my hips and flushing the toilet.

  “One minute down,” he instructs.

  I pray silently. Please be negative, please be negative, please don’t do this to me now.

  “Hang on, it’s already stopped flashing.”

  “Well, that’s not right.” My eyebrows fold inward.

  “The digital test hasn’t done this before. Maybe we did it wrong.”

  “Seriously, I doubt it. I mean, it’s not rocket science. You pee on the bloomin’ stick, Will.” I feel my whole body tense. Why isn’t it working? Looking up at Will, his eyes bug from his head, his lips curl instantly, and he holds the stick like the most delicate piece of equipment he has ever handled.

  “You bloody beauty, you bloody ripper. May, May, it says pregnant. May, it says you’re pregnant.” Watching Will’s hands tremble as he leaps from the vanity to the floor causes me to swallow hard. “We did it. We’re having a baby. Look.” Will shoves the device about one centimetre from my nose.

  I take his hand, bringing it back slightly so I can see.

  PREGNANT.

  My knees weaken and my heart drums loudly in my ear. I’m pregnant. I’m really pregnant. Oh, no.

  “Come here.” I’m pulled into an embrace so tight it restricts my lungs from claiming air. The sound of exaggerated kisses alerts me to Will kissing my hair. Then the sound of his heart now beating loudly expresses every bit of his heart’s fulfilment. The one thing Will has wanted, I’ve given him, but now I will probably have to take it all away.

  Placing his hands under my bottom, Willard lifts me up, causing my legs to cross behind his back with an unintentional squeal exploding outwardly. “Maybelline Isabel Connors, I love you. I love you more than life.” Pressing his mouth firmly against mine, I begin to cry. It’s then I realise Will is crying too. “We’re getting our baby. Our life is going to be perfect now.” Will sniffs softly through a strained throat when he lays his head into my neck.

  I’ve only ever seen Will cry twice in our lifetime together. Even as a child I never witnessed Will’s tears…the first time came the day he dropped to his knee after a well-planned treasure hunt and he asked me to be his wife, and the second day came when I walked down the aisle in our hometown church in Wellington and said ‘I do.’ Both these moments were filled with complete happiness. Both completed our dreams. Today, Will cries again from pure happiness—a child we have wanted so badly is now rewarded. Tomorrow, I know I will see Will cry sad tears for the very first time in my life. I am going to destroy all the perfect and all the good in the man I love because I was so dumb, so irresponsible and I never sought help six months ago when this pain appeared out of the blue.

  I hope tomorrow never comes.

  Quickly, I’m carried to our marital bed, where a celebration for such a moment is bound to happen in the throes of passion. Closing my eyes, I beg for relief from the intense feeling of suffocation creeping up my throat. Twitching has my eyes springing open and I drop my chin in time to watch Will kiss the skin separating him from his unborn child. The child he’ll never get to meet because radiation and chemotherapy kills foetuses. These chemicals will kill our child all in the hope they will save me.

  How selfish am I? This is a nightmare. This can’t be happening. Wake up, May.

  The drive into work seems shorter than normal, maybe because my mind is still set in this permanent nightmare. Visions of Willard crying tears of grief as a vacuum sucks our baby from my womb constantly plagues my drive.

  I want to wake up now.

  Sitting in my chair at my desk, I don’t bother to turn on the computer. I don’t even place my bag on the floor. Instead, I put it on my lap, protecting my growing baby. Spinning to face the doorway, I blankly stare in wait of Gem’s arrival. She is going to receive even worse news today. I’m not going to win best friend of the year after this.

  “Good morning—” Gem ceases speaking immediately. “Again, you wait for me like this. Turn around and face your computer now,” she demands with her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

  “Oh shit,” she replies, stumbling until she falls into the chair beside me. “Have you told Will about the can—” She can’t finish.

  I don’t blame her. I can’t say it either.

  “I haven’t. I’ll tell him tomorrow. He deserves one day of happiness. I love him, Gem.”

  “I know. May, this sucks. I can’t even think right now.”

  “Yep. Hey, Gem, I don’t think I can terminate like the doctor mentioned. I’m incapable of such an act—”

  “You’re not going to get a choice with this, May. Will won’t lose you. He won’t let such a thing happen. May, you don’t get to choose.”

  “You think he would want me to do it?”

  “I know he would. May, you’re his life. He worships everything about you. Has since you were children. I’m set on finding a guy who loves me as much as Will loves you. He’ll never settle for any less. Will won’t settle on a life without you in it, May, and neither will I.”

  “Yeah.” My insides squirm in misery, bringing with it a pungent taste to my mouth. “What do you think will happen if I tell them no and delay my treatment? I mean, it’s only nine months.”

  “You’ll probably—no, I’m pretty sure you’ll die, you idiot. Your child will be motherless. Your husband won’t have a wife. You’ll be six feet under. For the first time in your life, May, you need to put yourself first. Don’t even let your mind go down this path.”

  “But I love this baby already. I want this more than I want my life, Gem.”

  “I know you do. But you can always have another baby, when it’s the right time to do so. You can’t have another life, May. You’re very sick.”

  “I don’t feel sick. I just have this stupid pain.”

  “You’re going to feel horrible soon enough, I’m sure of it. Coffee.” Gem holds out a large takeaway cup, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  “You’re not supposed to drink coffee when you’re pregnant, I think. So not today.” If I wish hard enough, maybe my disease will magically disappear and I will not have to deal with this anymore.

  Gem leaves quicker than I had hoped and suddenly I’m alone in my office. Looking down, I see another pile of invoices that requires entering and a folder full of contracts. Motor vehicle companies turn paperwork over as quickly as a fast food vendor turns over burgers.

  I can’t do this today.

  Flicking my eyes upwards, I spot the silver frame housing a picture of Will and me, on my desk. We’re smiling like we’ve won life’s biggest lottery—cheesy wide smiles that express our pure happiness. The need to burst into a flood of tears slithers from my stomach, up my throat before stopping painfully behind my eyes.

  I need to leave.

  Clutching my bag, I scurry past Gem’s office and walk straight through the office door belonging to my boss, Trevor Cuttings.

  “Good morning, Trevor.”

  Trevor lifts his head out of what I assume is a car manual and offers me his attention. “Morning, May. Are you okay? You look pale.” His grey, blue eyes are soft and as I break connection, I witness his thin lined lips pull tight.

  “That’s what I was coming to see you about. Sorry, I’m feeling unwell this morning. I’m going to have to go home. Probably a stomach bug.”

  “Of course. Feel better, May. Hopefully this bug is kind to you.”

  “Thank you,” I grunt, still trying to keep control of my need to cry. Turning o
n my heel, I march forcefully back past Gem’s office, glancing in briefly, but she can’t be seen.

  The front doors open swiftly and without thought I step onto the footpath. Trying to slow my sudden erratic heartbeat with this one change of scenery and a whisk of wind wrapping my waist, I no longer keep my composure. One by one those tears skim my cheek, intensifying my heart rate.

  Car. Bus. Taxi. Truck. Car. Bike. Car. Truck. I watch the busy traffic passing by as I slowly walk the footpaths. Where am I going? I’ve no idea. I don’t want to go home or back to work. I don’t want to go to the shops. I’ve no idea what I want. Actually, I know the one thing I want. I want to be cancer free and I very much wish I could be excited about the baby tucked safely inside my womb.

  Startling from a sudden loud honking of a horn, I’m launched back into the here and now and notice I’ve stopped beside a give way sign. Leaning against the pole holding this sign, I do a quick evaluation of my changed surroundings. There are store fronts stretching for miles and a set of traffic lights a short distance ahead. Which way do I go? Dropping my head, I watch my feet place one in front of the other.

  “Baby steps, May. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You haven’t even had the biopsy yet,” I mutter under my breath.

  Eventually, I turn around, returning to the car park at work. Taking a reprieve in the driver’s seat of my red Corolla hatchback, I’m alerted to the tender throb in my leg, and for the first time I feel a twitching sensation with inconsistent twinges in my right knee. My previous plan to travel farther by foot is now replaced with the only choice left—driving.

  Lap after lap, I study streets and neighbourhoods I can’t remember ever visiting before. I’m not sure how many hours pass by, but with a sudden loud grumble coming from my stomach, I search for an eatery. Finding a café positioned between houses in a quaint neighbourhood, I park. The word Layla, written in big curved lettering on a sign, has my head tilting. “What a pretty name.”

  Two steps and I’m standing in a room with old-fashioned and sweet furnishings. It reminds me of an antique dollhouse. There are wooden chairs with floral pillows and scattered trinkets. I like it here.