Page 17 of A Mother’s Last Wish
17
TOM
When Jonathan texted me this morning, asking if we could meet for lunch, I wasn’t sure whether to agree. After what happened at Flo’s birthday party yesterday, he might have things to say that I don’t want to hear. He wasn’t at the party, he was flying back from a business trip to Italy, so he didn’t witness things finally coming to a head between our wives. I suspect he’ll feel the need to defend Billie, and tell me that Lou shouldn’t have been as blunt with her as she was. But Jonathan and I know better than anyone that sometimes the only way to get through to Billie is to be blunt and, in the circumstances, I think Lou had every right to say what she did. If I’m totally honest, right now I couldn’t give a damn about any kind of hurt feelings Billie might have. All that matters is our family, but sometimes it feels like I’m suffocating. I’m not working, at least not properly, and in the past, I’ve always used work as a temporary distraction when I’ve been going through a difficult time, like losing my parents. Lou’s cancer feels relentless in a way that nothing ever quite has before, so even if Jonathan is planning to call me out about the row between Lou and Billie, at least it’s a reason to get out of the house that doesn’t involve going taking Lou to yet another hospital appointment, knowing she’s going to be pumped full of poison again.
I’ve been pinning all my hopes on the chemo working, but it’s making her so ill. Holly ended up having to take her to an out-of-hours clinic last night when we realised how much pain she was in from a UTI she’d been trying to hide until Flo’s party was over. I’d had a few beers, just to get through putting a brave face on things, which meant I couldn’t drive. I hated myself for that. I should be ready to drop whatever I’m doing if Lou needs something right now, but I wasn’t. Thank God for Holly. I seem to be saying that so often lately. She was ready, of course she was, and so it was her who got Lou in to see a doctor and made sure she was given the meds she needed, while I stayed at home with the children. The doctors have told Lou not to delay getting help for any sign of infection again, because with the chemo suppressing her immune system, a simple infection risks turning into something life threatening. When Holly told me they’d mentioned the possibility of sepsis, I felt even worse about the fact that I’d prioritised a few beers over her. It won’t happen again, that’s for sure. I’m going to make certain I’m ready for whatever Lou needs from me from now on.
The doctors are running some tests to see just how compromised her immune system is, and the results will determine whether she’s well enough to continue with the chemo. I don’t even want to think about what the implications of that might be. It was Holly who relayed all of this to me last night when they got home, and all Lou was able to do was to crawl into bed. Holly and I stayed up talking after that, trying to make sense of everything and find solutions for the unsolvable. We couldn’t of course, but it was good to talk and be able to be completely honest about how we felt. Shit mostly, is the way I’d sum it up, and angry as hell that this is happening to our beautiful Lou, the glue that binds this whole family together.
It was cathartic to get it out, to rage against the injustice, and use every kind of swear word we could come up with to describe just how shit this whole situation is. None of them capture it adequately, so we started trying to come up with one of our own, one that can really do the situation justice. Although I’m not sure a word bad enough truly exists. Perhaps I should ask Jonathan. We’ve had our fair share of boozy, sweary nights out in the past, particularly when we were both playing for the village rugby team in our early twenties.
Lou’s oldest friend, Joanna, one of the first she confided in about her diagnosis, is at home with Lou and the children, effectively babysitting them all, because Lou is so poorly at the moment that I didn’t want to leave her. It was Holly who intervened again, lecturing me that I needed a break in order to be the best support I can for Lou. When I challenged her to take her own advice, she promised she would, if I did, and arranged for Joanna to cover for us both. Holly has gone to the cinema with a friend from one of the places where she volunteers, Dan, I think she said his name was, and I found myself wanting to ask about this ‘friend’. Holly has always been like the little sister I’ve never had, and I feel protective of her, especially since her own cancer diagnosis and then Jacob walking out. She means a lot to me, there’s no denying that, but there was something else niggling at me, making me want to ask more about this person she’s out with.
It crossed my mind, just for a moment, that if this ‘friend’ is more than that, Holly might start a relationship with him that could lead who knows where. I should be happy for her if that’s the case, I know that, but my feelings are confused. It’s been such a long time since she was in a relationship, and it’s been easy to take it for granted that she’ll always be around and available to slot into mine and Lou’s life. I’ve never needed her more than I do now, and the thought of losing even a part of that support scares me. Although it doesn’t even compare to the thought of losing Lou, which is so terrifying I can’t really let my mind go there. But Holly having a relationship of her own – something she deserves more than anyone else I know – is all too easy to imagine and, as selfish as it is to even think it, I can’t help hoping that now won’t be the time.
Shaking off the thought, I focus on what I want to say to Jonathan. Now that Lou has spoken openly about her cancer, there’s nothing to stop me talking about it and if I start to lean on my friends, perhaps I won’t feel quite so reliant on Holly.
We’re meeting in the village pub, The Happy Farmer, a place where we spent many nights after the age of about sixteen trying to persuade the barmaid to serve us a pint despite not having any ID, and still looking easily young enough to get a half price kid’s ticket on the bus that was our only independent route to freedom and life beyond the confines of the village where we grew up. That was until Jonathan turned seventeen and passed his test almost straight away, having learnt to drive on his parents’ land. He had the keys to a silver Ford Focus within a month of turning seventeen and as far as I was concerned that made him the king of the road. It was the start of us both discovering how much more there was to life than what Castlebourne could offer. Funny really that we’ve both ended up back here, but it’s only as an adult that you realise what a charmed childhood you had. Or didn’t, in Lou and Holly’s case. I wanted the same for my kids when I eventually had them, which is why I bought my first house in Castlebourne and why these days I can’t imagine ever really wanting to live anywhere else. I try not to think about what life will be like here without Lou, or how our house won’t feel like a home without her. I need to talk to someone about everything that’s happening, and I feel sorry for Jonathan that he’s the one I’m going to confide in, because I know this isn’t going to be easy to hear.
When I walk through the doors to the pub, I spot him straight away. He’s nursing two pints and what looks like two whisky chasers. He clearly means business and I’m glad. Suddenly the idea of numbing some of my emotions with alcohol is incredibly appealing. I know it’s not the answer, and that it’ll probably just make my anxiety worse tomorrow. But nothing can alleviate that anyway, so I might as well enjoy tonight.
‘I got the first round in, mate. I thought you could probably use it.’ Jonathan gets to his feet and gives me a hug, thumping me on the back before he pulls away again, like he’s a cornerman trying to pump up his fighter ready to win the next round, and that’s probably his intention. Sadly I’ve got no chance in the match I find myself in; the doctors have already pre-determined the winner.
‘Thanks, I definitely need this.’ Lifting the pint, I drain half of it before I even sit down. When I do, I wonder if I should broach what went on between Lou and Billie at the party, but he doesn’t look like he wants to confront me about anything. If anything, he looks like he wants to cry.
‘I’m so sorry, mate. Not Lou, not Lou.’ Jonathan shakes his head. ‘This is so fucked up.’
‘Yeah.’ It’s all I can manage, and I take another huge slug of my beer to try and stop myself from crying. It’s not as if we haven’t cried in front of each other before, but I don’t want to start today in case I can’t stop. We cried together when my parents died, and when all of our kids were born. Christ, even on my wedding day when Jonathan was best man, and I was completely overwhelmed by the sight of Lou walking towards me, unable to believe my luck. There were no tears when Jonathan married Billie, and the poor sod got into trouble for that, because it didn’t follow her script.
‘I’m sorry if Billie made things any harder, and I know she feels terrible about it.’
‘Nothing can really make this worse.’ I drain the last of my beer, but the numbing effect isn’t coming nearly quickly enough.
‘I don’t suppose anything can make it better either.’
‘No.’ I swallow so hard it feels like my Adam’s apple might tear through the skin on my neck. ‘I can’t lose her, I just can’t, but there’s not a single fucking thing I can do to stop it.’
I shoot the whisky back and it burns my throat, but the physical pain is a relief, and Jonathan pushes his whisky chaser towards me, nodding in understanding.
‘I’ll get another round in.’ Jonathan gets to his feet and I nod, before draining the second whisky. I want this all to go away, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do, which means right now oblivion feels like the only option.
Three rounds in I decided enough was enough. Jonathan was doing his best to try and comfort me, but having to relive the diagnosis, and the prognosis that followed, seemed to neutralise the effects of the alcohol, and I felt every stab of pain again as if it was freshly inflicted. He said all the right things, sympathising with what we’re going through, and I know there was genuine sadness there too, because he likes Lou. A lot. But he doesn’t love her, and I realised as soon as the third round of drinks was set on the table that what I really needed tonight was to be with someone who loves Lou and who really understands what the prospect of losing her feels like. Which is why I’m standing outside the cinema, eight miles from Castlebourne, desperately hoping that Holly is about to emerge, as other people begin to drift out from the seven thirty showing of a rom com.
‘Holly!’ I call her name as soon as I spot her. She’s walking side by side with a man, their hands close enough to be touching without actually doing so. A pang of guilt that I might be ruining her night hits me, but I can’t stop myself from calling out again and moving closer towards her. ‘Holly!’
‘Tom, what on earth are you doing here? It’s not Lou, is it?’ Panic is written all over her face, and I shake my head.
‘Oh God, Hols, I’m sorry, it’s okay, it’s not Lou. I texted Joanna from the pub, before I got a taxi over here, and she said Lou went to bed early, but she’s fine. Except she’s not fine, is she? And she’s never going to be fine again. I tried to have a night off and not think about it, I really did, but I just can’t stop.’ I’m vaguely aware of the uncomfortable look on the face of Holly’s companion, but I don’t care. I feel as if I’m going to explode if I don’t find a way of getting all of these feelings out, and the only person I can share them with is Holly, because she’s the only one who truly understands. We’re both going to lose our other half, and neither of us will ever be the same because of it. If that makes some random bloke a bit embarrassed, I can live with that, but I’ve got no idea how I’m supposed to live without Lou.
‘I can’t stop thinking about it either.’ Holly’s eyes fill with tears, mirroring my own, and when she steps forward I wrap my arms around her. For the first time all evening, I don’t feel like I’m in danger of floating away and never finding my way home again, the way I’ve felt so often since we were given Lou’s prognosis, because this is what home feels like and as long as I’ve got Holly, I’ll aways have a piece of Lou too.