Then She Roars

by Vanessa Evetts

  His laugh filled the space between us again and my skin came alive.

  Get a hold of yourself woman.

  I’d like to get a hold of something.

  Avery Faye Bishop! You stop that right now!

  Come on, just a little taste.

  You don’t want to do this. Remember?

  I do. I do.

  Do I have to start saying ugly words? Do I need to remind you why we can't do this?

  I turned away from the sight of him, refusing to combine his perfection with the injustice that was my reality.

  No! Okay? Shut up!

  “Want to enlighten me?” Harry was watching me, the light banter replaced by caution. “That looked like an intense battle of wills.”

  I shrugged my brows. “Bingo.”

  “I’m on the side of the one that tells you to go for it.”

  I laughed. “Of course you are.”

  So am I. Desperate for a distraction, I reached into the café box, selected a chip and placed it in my mouth. “Would you like a lukewarm chip?”

  “How can I resist after that intro?” Harry reached into the box. “Delicious,” he said, licking the salt off his fingers.

  “Liar …”

  “You got me,” he admitted. “What are you doing down here on the grass, all dressed up, eating cold, soggy chips?”

  “Well, firstly, some rude, smoking-hot, sweat-covered runner plonked down next to me and made me forget about my lunch.”

  “Smoking-hot?” he repeated with a grin.

  “Rude, smoking-hot …” I corrected.

  “Well, how about you let this rude, smoking-hot runner take you for a proper lunch?”

  “I don’t have time for that kind of carry-on.” I glanced at my watch. If I was being honest, I did have time, but what’s the point of going to a fancy restaurant when I could barely stomach deep-fried potato.

  “Do you have another appointment, or are you trying to let me down gently?” he asked.

  I regretfully took a swig of coffee. It was cold. “I do have appointments this afternoon, but maybe both things if I’m honest.”

  Harry grabbed at his heart and stabbed it dramatically. “Well, am I right in saying the ‘wanting’ is mutual?”

  I smiled before placing another chip in my mouth trying to satiate the empty nauseous sensation in my stomach.

  “Okay, you’re married or in a serious relationship,” he suggested, picking up my left hand to check for a wedding ring.

  I shook my head.

  “Gay?”

  “What do you think, hot stuff?”

  He beamed. “You’re forty and live with your parents?”

  “Thirty-six, and my parents are no longer earthside.” I adjusted my position in an attempt to tame the nausea. It didn’t work.

  “We’ll pin that conversation for later,” he said, acknowledging the importance of my revelation. “I’m pretty sure you’re not a serial killer – I haven’t picked up any murderous vibe, other than when you thought I was a sleaze.”

  “You were in the danger zone for sure,” I joked, despite my body screaming warnings at me. “You missed one.”

  Harry narrowed his eyes to think, then threw his head back and filled my senses to overflowing with his irresistible laugh.

  Everything in me wanted to lean forwards and silence him with my lips. My stomach twisted in warning as the first taste of bile reached the back of my throat.

  Oh God. Get up.

  “Your package looks perfect from where I’m sitting.”

  I couldn’t smile, everything in me was focused on taming the beast inside, claiming every possible second.

  “There’s one more,” he said.

  Curiosity silenced the screaming in my head. My eyes shot towards the park bathrooms trying to calculate the time I’d need if I ran. “What would that be?”

  “You’re dying, and you don’t want this whole Romeo and Juliet tragic romance hanging over your head,” he joked.

  What the hell?

  “Avery, are you okay? You’ve gone pale.” He touched his hand to my forehead.

  Run, now!

  I launched myself off the ground and ran towards the park toilets with my hand over my mouth. I barely made it.

  By the time my body stopped convulsing over the toilet bowl, I could barely walk to the basin to wash my face. Something was wrong – I could feel it.

  I focused on my breathing and stared into the eyes of my reflection, daring the lioness inside me to turn up.

  “Are you Avery?”

  I jumped as if waking from a trance. An unfamiliar face watched me with an expression of both kindness and concern.

  “Yes.”

  “Your friend wanted me to check you were okay. You look terrible …” Apology flashed in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You don’t need to apologise; I’m standing in front of a mirror.”

  “Should I tell him you’ll be out soon?”

  “Actually, you can tell him to go. I’ll be fine.”

  She appeared in the doorway a minute later. “He said he wasn’t going anywhere, sorry.”

  “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

  “He’s hot.”

  My brows raised with resignation. “You’re not wrong there.” That was the problem, wasn’t it?

  “Okay, see ya. I hope you feel better soon,” she said before disappearing from view.

  My heart expanded in my chest when I caught sight of him. He’d collected my belongings, including my heels, which were dangling from his fingers.

  “You okay?”

  “Not really.” I was too tired to lie.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Not until tonight. You heading home?”

  I nodded.

  “Avery, you don’t look up to driving. How about you let me take you home?”

  “I just vomited my guts out, Prince Charming. I think you should keep well away.” I reached out to take possession of my bag and shoes.

  The earth moved beneath my feet and I lost all sense of direction. I heard a shout of warning as the pavement rapidly approached my face. Silent nothingness came before impact.

  When I came to, I found myself in Harry’s arms. I raised my hand to my face to check for bleeding.

  “You’re okay. You didn’t hit the ground.”

  I needed to say thank you, to tell him to put me down, but my brain was hazy, and I couldn’t wrap sound around the words in my head.

  “Do you want me to put you down?” he asked.

  I nodded, but as soon as my feet touched the ground and he relinquished control, my knees collapsed, refusing to carry my weight.

  He gathered me back into his arms and started walking, his strength wrapped around me like a cloak. “Where to?”

  “My office.” I pointed to the building. “Eighth floor.”

  The words cost me; I closed my eyes and exhaled into his embrace.

  Sally’s concern rang out like a siren. “Oh my god! What happened?”

  “She was sick, then fainted. She can barely stand.”

  “And who are you?” Sally pried, leading him into my office.

  “I’m Harry – a friend.”

  Prince Charming. Possibly the love of my life.

  No. Not your Prince Charming. He doesn’t deserve this, and you know it.

  I breathed him in as Tracey’s words echoed in my memory. ‘When it gets ugly, you’ll need someone.’ I let myself entertain the possibility for a second. Maybe he was my someone, maybe it was meant to be, maybe that's why we kept finding each other.

  “We were having lunch together.”

  Harry’s choice of words drew me from my thoughts.

  He laid me down on the couch.

  “What happened exactly?” Sally closed the door and placed a rubbish bin next to the couch. So very practical.

  “We were chatting over lunch. Sh
e paled then took off running to the bathroom to be sick. Then she fainted.”

  “Oh,” Sally said, lowering herself and laying her hand on my arm. “She was fine this morning.”

  “Can you make sure she makes an appointment to see her doctor?”

  “It’s probably just the flu,” Sally lied.

  “Look, I’m a doctor over at the hospital, and I don’t—”

  “Oh, so you know then?”

  A part of me wanted to scream for her to shut up, but I didn’t have the energy to stop this wrecking ball from slamming into my life with gusto. This was it, the dreaded moment when fantasy and reality collided.

  “Know what?” Harry asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, shit!” Sally shouted with abandon.

  “What? Is there something I—”

  “No, I’m okay,” I interjected, opening my eyes. “Thank you for your help. You can go, Harry. Please go.” I lifted myself into a seated position and raised my eyes to his.

  “Are you sure; I can take you—”

  I clenched the armrest in a tight fist as the room started spinning. Sally grabbed the bin and placed it on my knee seconds before my body convulsed and I vomited repeatedly until only blood and bile remained.

  Sometime during the commotion, I heard Sally ushering a reluctant Harry out the door promising to call him and let him know I was okay.

  It was two days before I could get out of bed. Sally stayed over at Dr Franklin’s request – he didn’t want me left alone. I was booked in for a pile of tests on Monday instead of my usual chemo date with the girls, which filled me with angst.

  “I let Dr Sexy know you were okay and that you’d made an appointment with your doctor. He was very happy about that,” Sally informed me when she brought me something to eat on Sunday night. “I can’t believe I nearly told him; I’m so sorry.”

  “It was an honest mistake, Sally. It’s okay … what do you mean you let him know?”

  “He left his card on my desk when I kicked him out of your office. He likes you if you haven’t already worked that out.”

  I laughed. “That ship’s well and truly sailed, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t think. He’s a doctor, Ave. A little bit of vomit isn’t going to scare him off.”

  “A little bit?” I teased.

  “Okay, yeah … a lot … so much vomit. But even then. That man is smitten – and gorgeous. Where the heck did you find him?”

  “He caught me doing a cartwheel at the park, then we sang a Grease number together.”

  “You’re playing with me?”

  “I’m deathly serious,” I said, aware of the irony.

  “That’s not funny, Avery.”

  “I know. And I also know he’s perfect. That’s the problem.”

  “I see zero problems in this scenario, Avery.”

  “That is because you are a fantasist.”

  “Avery …”

  “Do you know what he said to me before I sprinted off to spew my guts out?”

  “It must have been bad to elicit that reaction.”

  I put the food aside and looked up at her. “We’d already established I wasn’t married, gay, 40 and living with my parents, a serial killer or physically deformed in any way, so he assumed the only reason I didn’t want to be with him was because – and these were his words exactly –‘You’re dying, and you don’t want this whole Romeo and Juliet tragic romance hanging over your head.’ ”

  “He did not!”

  “He did.”

  “No wonder you took off running.”

  “I’d been fighting it all day, but that was the final straw – can you imagine?”

  “I can see why. Are you going to tell him?”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not? He’s perfect!”

  “What? Perfect enough to fall in love with someone who might die on him? I can’t do that to him.”

  “Avery, you’re not going to die,” she pleaded.

  “Says you. Do you have any idea how many women die of breast cancer in this country? Perfectly healthy, strong women?”

  “You’re doing treatment; you’re going to have the surgery. You can beat this. I know you can. You deserve to …”

  “What? I deserve to be happy at his expense? I deserve to fall in love and let him fall in love with me and then watch him suffer? No.”

  “Avery, it’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that, Sal. I couldn’t be more selfish.”

  “Tell him, and then it’s his choice.”

  “No.”

  “You’re still alive, you’re fighting this, you deserve to be happy – to be loved,” she said, imploring me to reconsider.

  “My temporary happiness is not worth his lifelong heartache. I’m sorry – this is real life, not some romantic fantasy without consequences. Please leave it.”

  “Okay.” Tears touched her cheeks. I felt it too – my heart was grieving him and what could have been. “This sucks so much, Avery. I just want it all to be a bad dream.”

  “Me too.” I reached up to take her hand. If I had tears, I’d cry them, but I had nothing. Right now, I had nothing, and it hurt like hell.

  15

  CLIENT

  “Just leave me alone for five minutes, for the love of God!” Ingrid screamed.

  Her seven-year-old daughter Saffie’s eyes widened, glistening with shock.

  She was a monster – she knew it. She’d tried so hard to rein it in, but she’d failed again.

  She had to stop. She had to work out a way to douse the fire within, but she was so overwhelmed by home, by work, by life, that the minute the next two words bravely inched off her daughter's tongue, she leapt on them like a wild animal, teeth bared and eyes narrowed in warning.

  “But I—”

  “But nothing! I don’t care what you have to say right now, just get out!” Regret pulsed in waves, drowning her with accusation and judgement. The gasoline had been lit and the kind, loving, fun mother was engulfed by an untameable beast. Frustration, failure, incompetence, guilt and depression all combined to create a weapon of epic proportion.

  Bruce Banner was no more.

  Saffie’s expression turned from shock and fear to devastation. Ingrid watched as she lowered her head and backed out of the door, tears streaming from her eyes.

  “Damn!” Ingrid yelled throwing the stapler against the wall. Her daughter flinched, assuming both the outburst and stapler were aimed at her. Oh, that poor child. That poor child. Ingrid’s anger suddenly dissipated into a river of tears.

  I’m such a failure. They deserve better. I can’t do this anymore.

  It was ten minutes before Saffie dared to allow even her whisper to be heard through the door. Ingrid watched the door inch open before it closed again. She listened intently.

  “Noah, don’t go in there. Mum’s mad,” Saffie told her little brother.

  “Why?”

  There are both a million reasons and none.

  “I don’t know – I think I did something.”

  Ingrid’s heart grieved for her daughter’s innocence. For the way she claimed the blame for her own mother’s failures. She had to make it right before it was too late.

  “Noah! Saffie! Come in here,” she called out and heard their whispering silence. “It's okay. It’s safe. You can come in.” She used the gentlest voice she could muster.

  Her precious children walked gingerly into the room holding hands, as if protecting each other from the beast that had made its home in her. Her heart broke. How did she let it come to this? She brushed fresh tears from her cheeks.

  “Oh, Mumma, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Saffie asked.

  “I’m okay.”

  Noah’s pained expression turned resolute as he reached his little hand up to cup her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” Ingrid offered her hand. Her daughter didn’t hesitate. “I never should have yelled at you. You didn’t do anything wr
ong and you didn’t deserve it.”

  “It’s okay, Mummy,” she replied. She forgave so freely, as if it were simple. As if being hurt by the people who were meant to protect and love you unconditionally wasn’t like having your heart ripped out. Ingrid wished she was more like her daughter.

  “No, baby, it’s not okay. None of this is okay. You did nothing wrong. You hear me? Mummy did wrong, you are amazing and beautiful and perfect. Me yelling at you had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me, okay?”

  Saffie took a step towards Ingrid and tucked herself into her embrace. “Okay, Mumma.”

  “I’m going to do better. Okay, sweetheart? I’m going to try harder.”

  Saffie nodded, her eyes darting to her brother’s. Her expression was laced with both a desperate need to believe her mother’s words and fear of trusting someone who consistently let her down.

  Ingrid pressed a kiss to Saffie’s cheek, then Noah’s. “I know you’ve heard this before. I know. But this time is going to be different, I promise.”

  “Why are you sad, Mumma?” Noah asked, tilting his head to one side.

  Ingrid pulled them onto her knees and wrapped her arms around them both. “I don’t know, baby. But I am sad, and I need some help from a special doctor to get rid of the sadness.”

  “What can we do?” Noah asked.

  “We can clean up after breakfast and make sure our beds are made,” Saffie answered.

  Ingrid smiled.

  Taking the cues from his big sister, Noah piped up too. “I can tidy up my toys so you don’t trip up on them at night-time and yell bad words.”

  “That sounds good, Noah.”

  “We can do what you ask, instead of arguing and saying ‘I was just …’ ” Saffie raised her eyebrows and nodded.

  “We can make our beds in the morning and turn off the lights in our rooms,” Noah added gleefully as if he’d just discovered the strategy to playing a brand-new game.

  Ingrid laughed and squeezed tight. “You two are the most wonderful children in the whole world. You are sweet and thoughtful and loving, and even though sometimes Mummy gets mad and yells at you, which I am going to work on very hard, that doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’re both amazing. I love you so much, it hurts my heart.”

  Both children snuggled in closer; “I love you,” they chorused, and Ingrid breathed it in. Her heart’s song.