Then She Roars

by Vanessa Evetts

  “So, what’s with all the running then?”

  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a fan of speaking your mind,” I replied, jiggling my eyebrows playfully.

  “I’ve discovered that. Well … since I don’t know your schedule, I decided to cover my bases.”

  “Sounds exhausting.”

  “You have no idea.” He sat up, taking me with him.

  “I’ve been visiting this park more too,” I admitted.

  “How much more?” he asked.

  “Let's just say,” I held my palms with only a small gap between them and then widened them as far as I could, “just a little bit.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t hoping to see me at all?”

  “Nope.” I traced my fingers down his bicep, ignoring the scolding voice inside my head. “This whole thing you’ve got going on doesn’t do it for me at all.”

  “I can see that in your eyes … the disgust.” He flicked my hair over my shoulders and slid his hand around my neck, tracing his fingers over my skin.

  I edged closer, willing him to claim what he wanted.

  “You seem different,” he whispered. “Lighter.”

  “You telling me I’ve lost weight? That’s a brave thing to say on a first … date,” I teased, breathless.

  He smiled, “You’re less burdened, and this is our third date, possibly fourth, so …”

  “Is it?”

  He brushed his lips past mine. “Mm-hmm.”

  His breath tickled my skin and lit a fire deep, deep inside.

  I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and closed the gap between us for one quick, passionate taste, then pulled back, playing his game. “So, tell me, how do you feel about flying?”

  “Well, I’m Superman, so obviously I’m a fan.”

  I laughed. “You free this weekend?”

  “Is this an indecent proposal, Doc?”

  “You complaining?”

  I quivered as he traced his fingers down my spine.

  “No way, just curious. What made you change your mind?”

  “I got some advice today.”

  “Which was?”

  “Someone told me to stop holding back and to choose the life I want. This is me choosing.”

  “You saying you want me?”

  I twisted the rim of his T-shirt in my fingers. “Do you have any doubt?”

  “I might need just a little more proof.” He leant in.

  I touched my finger to his lips. “So, are you free?”

  “It’s a rare occurrence, but yes, I am.”

  “Great.” I pushed off his chest to stand, but he pulled me back down.

  “What am I getting myself into?” he asked.

  “Some fun.”

  “I like the sound of that, but how do I know you won’t murder me in my sleep? We hardly know each other.”

  I smiled. “No murderous vibes, remember. We established that already.”

  “So we did.”

  “You ready to give me your number so I don’t have to stalk you in the park?”

  I was tempted, but I’d relinquished enough control for one day. This was about the weekend … living the life I wanted for four days. No more, no less.

  “I can’t give you everything in one date – it’ll go to your head.”

  “What if the plan changes? How do I contact you?”

  “Through Sally, and I’ve got your card.”

  “I see Dr Bishop is back,” he teased. “All work and no play.”

  I laughed. “She’ll be staying home for the weekend.”

  His eyes sparked. “Where should we meet? Time?”

  “I’ll pick you up outside the park gates at two on Friday.”

  “You like to hold the reins and the steering wheel … interesting. What should I pack?”

  “Well, Superman, what does fun look like to you?” I spun around and strutted my sexy self back to my office without looking back. I didn’t need to, to know he was watching.

  20

  “What’s got into you, Avery?” Sally said, stepping into the elevator beside me.

  My eyes darted to hers then down to my fingers nervously scratching at my paper coffee cup. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “See, right there.” She pointed a suspicious finger at me. “Those words for starters. When have you ever said, ‘whatever do you mean’ like you’re the queen of England?” Her voice and actions perfectly mimicked the poise and pretence of royalty and it transformed my nervous energy into a fit of hysteria.

  I cupped my mouth to silence the crazy as my heart and head grappled to assimilate all that had occurred in the last hour: the news that we were going on the attack, the side effects I’d have to endure with the new treatment regime, the change in doctor, the reminder of the fragility of my life, the doctor’s orders that had me throwing myself into Harry’s arms, his touch, his lips, the promise of this weekend. Fear and joy collided inside me and I didn’t know how to control them.

  Sally grabbed my arms and held me firm. “Ave, are you okay? What happened? Is it the can—”

  I cupped my hand over her mouth. “Don’t say that word!”

  No. I had four days without that dark shadow dictating what I was and wasn’t allowed to do and how I was and wasn’t allowed to feel. Not today.

  “Okay, Ave,” she said when I lowered my hand. “I won’t say it.”

  My head shook in rapid jerks. “I did something.”

  I’d lost it. I’d been fighting so hard to keep my distance from him, to protect him, to protect me, but now … I was delirious with the thought of him, with the idea of surrendering control for even a moment and have him wrap me in his arms. How was I going to end it, now I’d allowed myself to feel it? What have you done? My eyes flared with fear.

  Sally hit the bright red stop button. “You’re going to tell me right now what the hell is going on with you.”

  I caught her eye as the first tears touched my cheeks.

  She brushed them away. “Honey, are you on drugs?”

  My eyebrows raised incredulously. “Of course I’m on drugs, but they’re not voluntary, and they’re bloody vicious!”

  “You know what I mean. Have you taken something,” she paused to clarify, “that your doctor hasn’t given you?”

  “Of course not.” I never did find that smoking-hot friend with a joint. Well, I found a smoking-hot … well he’s not a friend, is he? In a matter of days, he’d be much, much more than that. The fantasy painted my cheeks red.

  “See that – right there!” she accused. “It’s like you’ve got multiple personalities. You’re off in la-la land, then you’re crying, then laughing hysterically. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m fine, Sal.”

  “Nope,” she answered. She’d learned that from me, damn it. This woman was not going to back down.

  I glanced at my watch. “Can we talk later? I’ve got a client in twenty minutes, and I have to prepare.”

  “No way! Until you tell me what’s going on, I’m not letting you anywhere near clients.”

  I moved to restart the lift, but she blocked my hand and raised her finger in my face. Her finger!

  “Don’t test me, Avery.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and raised it in the air between us. “You tell me right now, or so help me God, I will call every one of our clients and cancel their appointments indefinitely.”

  I had no doubt she’d follow through on her threats. That’s why I’d hired her. She was ruthless – just like me.

  “Okay.” I raised my hand in surrender. The sudden change in the atmosphere between us had subdued my hysteria. “I think I screwed up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I hesitated, then blurted it out. “I invited Harry away for a fun weekend.”

  Her eyes widened, then relief burst out in spurts of laughter. “Are you serious? You scared me half to death because you invited an incredibly hot, real-life McSteamy-McD
reamy, all wrapped into one, who can carry you in his arms like a bloody superhero doctor away for a weekend of wild, wild … Oh, my Lord in heaven … Avery Bishop … you go, girl!”

  “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

  “What’s your problem? He is so …” and then she swooned like a teenage girl standing in front of Bradley Cooper, Zac Efron or … hell, like any woman for that matter.

  “Yeah, Sal … I heard you the first time,” I interrupted her theatrics, holding up my finger to gain control of the situation. Yes, my finger. It’s contagious. “This is serious.”

  “I agree, Avery. It’s …” She looked down and straightened out her blouse and skirt, smoothed her hair and secured her handbag on her shoulder as if she was recovering from the hot date I’d just had “… seriously hot.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake – you’re ridiculous.” I restarted the lift when she wasn’t looking.

  She grinned. “No. I’m just really, really happy you’ve decided to allow yourself to be happy.”

  Her words unzipped my joy to reveal the darkness lurking within. “And then what, Sal? I’ve got four days of freedom before I start a new aggressive chemo regimen. I didn’t tell you that part. There are no guarantees, no planning ahead, no dreaming of a future with him. I’m starting something that I have no business starting.”

  “Avery, life doesn’t come with guarantees, cancer or no cancer. You’re not promising him forever … you’re exploring each other … you’re allowing yourself to feel desired – to feel loved. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that? Are you serious, Sal? I’m keeping a secret from him that could ruin his life.”

  “Stop with the dramatics; a second ago you were giddy with excitement and now this. I’m getting whiplash.”

  I backed into the corner and rested my head on the wall.

  “Ave, tell me one thing. What changed your mind? How did you go from being furious at me for daring to put him in your presence to inviting him away for a sexy weekend?”

  “Doctor’s orders.”

  The lift doors opened and we both stepped into the vacant waiting room. “Your doctor ordered you to have wild sex with your McDreamy McSteamy Prince Harr—”

  I held my hand in the air to halt the extended description. “She told me to stop holding back, to be selfish and start living the life I want. She told me to go and have fun this weekend.”

  “Okay, so, (A) … I need to meet this doctor. And (B) … this is a time in your life when you can’t sacrifice the things that will bring you joy.”

  “It’s not just about me though, is it?” I threw my cold coffee in the bin under her desk.

  “You’ve already invited him, and I forbid you from cancelling.”

  “You forbid me, do you?”

  “I forbid you, Avery.” There she goes with the finger again. “I’m playing my favour card and you know what that means.”

  I took a step backwards towards my office as she sat down at her desk.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I wasn’t going to cancel.”

  “What? You little hussy. You just tricked me into playing my card. Damn ... I take it back – you still owe me.”

  “Nope. No take-backs.”

  “Oh well, when you get married, I’m still going to claim it was me playing the favour card that did it.”

  “Sal … we’re not going to—”

  “No.” She raised her hand to silence my disbelief.

  “It's just for the weekend; don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Not another word. At least let me have the fantasy of your happy-ever-after, even if you’ve given up on it.”

  “Sal—”

  “No! Nothing you can say will stop me believing that you’re going to beat this thing and get the man, the family and the life you’ve always dreamed of. Nothing.”

  Her faith released a surge of gratitude in me. Here I was fighting for my life, while she was fighting for my future.

  “I love you, Sal.”

  She looked up from her computer. “I love you too, Sandy. Now, get to work.”

  Sandy. That’s who was going away with Harry this weekend … not the Dr McBusiness, rule follower; not the sick, worried, serious or lonely part of me; but the fun-loving, speak-your-mind, cartwheeling, Grease-singing part.

  I couldn’t wait.

  21

  “Good morning, Abi. Take a seat.”

  “Hi.” She wrapped herself into a ball on my couch.

  “Tough week?” I asked.

  She nodded – kind of. It was really more of a ‘Jake-the-Muss’ head jerk, but the message was clear.

  “You turned up,” I acknowledged.

  Another head jerk, but this time her eyes shot to mine.

  “You want me to talk for a while?” I asked.

  She pressed her thumbs through the holes in her sweatshirt and offered a silent yes.

  “I missed my last round of chemo, so I feel much better,” I said. “I start again on Monday with a new combo.”

  “Why?” her first word made me feel all gooey inside. Seriously? … gooey?

  “It wasn’t working as they’d hoped,” I answered.

  “Oh.” Her face folded into a frown.

  “It's okay, Abi. I’m still okay.”

  “You roar again?”

  Her whisper filled my silent places. “How’d you know?”

  She shrugged. “Just figured.”

  “My brother asked about the health of my lioness. He lives in Kenya, so he gets it.” Those few words were packed with so many opportunities for her engagement.

  A smile broke through. Progress. “You’re weird.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, my friend.” I heard the word friend on my lips. It’s not something I would normally say to a client, but with Abi, it felt important.

  “Anyway, his question made me realise my lioness had been under attack and hadn’t fared well.”

  “So, how did you … make her roar?”

  “My brother told me not to silence her. He told me she was my strength and courage – that I needed to give her free rein – give her a voice.”

  Abi’s eyes glistened.

  “You see, she fights when I don’t have the strength.”

  My words ceased but the heartfelt communication between us continued. I observed in awe as that beautiful young girl absorbed Cooper’s words and then unravelled before my eyes.

  “I wish I had a lioness,” she whispered.

  I leant forward and held my hands out, close enough to encourage her to accept the physical contact, but not close enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

  She hesitated, then slid her legs off the couch and placed them on the floor. Every move was in slow motion as if every single inch was significant … as if each move was a decision she had to make – and it was. This was her surrender into trust.

  She pulled her thumbs out of the well-worn holes and placed her palms on mine.

  “You do, Abi.”

  It was then the tears started, and my heart grieved for this precious child’s freedom. I wanted so desperately to wrap her in my arms and hold her tight. I thought of her mother out there in the waiting room, so broken, so desperate to be able to touch her baby – to know she was whole, healed.

  I was burdened by the responsibility of Abi’s salvation and the frailty of my own life. You can’t have me until she’s safe. I heard the words as clearly as if I’d spoken them out loud, and I meant them. If this was all I achieved in my whole life, it was enough.

  I squeezed her hands. “She’s a part of you, Abi. She’s been silenced and wounded, but there’s nothing fiercer or more courageous than that lioness that lives inside of you. She’s your spirit, your intuition, your warrior.”

  “I’m not …” She exhaled a heavy breath, tears streaming. “I’m weak. I’m scared all the time. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how … I hate it. I hate t
his, but I … I don’t want to feel like this anymore, but … all I have is … hate.”

  I allowed the silence.

  She shook her head. “I hate myself.”

  Be patient. Be careful. “Why?”

  Abi’s top lip tugged upwards as if attached to a piece of nylon. Self-hatred and pain were tattooed over every curve.

  “I just do.” She tugged her hands out of mine.

  I waited.

  Abi wiped her tears with the back of her hands – violently – as if she was ashamed of her weakness.

  “Abi …”

  She glanced at me, then laid her hands back on mine. My pulse quickened as the connection reforged.

  “Do you know why you hate yourself?”

  “Because I’m useless.”

  “What else.”

  The nylon line tugged.

  “Say it, Abi. Let it out.”

  “I’m ugly. I’m weak,” she said louder, claiming the words. I held her hands firm so she couldn’t pull away.

  “What else?”

  “No.” Her head shook with rapid jerks.

  “What else?” I asked again.

  “Argh!” She clenched her teeth as if the ugly words on her tongue were causing physical pain. The lies in her head were killing her from the inside out. I could see it in every movement, every look.

  “Say the words, Abi. Get them out of you.”

  “I can’t!” she cried.

  I squeezed her hands and lowered my face to look through her mask. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

  Her lips quivered with the weight of her confession.

  “What else?” I was walking a tightrope and there was no net in sight, but this was it. This was the moment her lioness awoke from her slumber.

  “I’m good for nothing. I’m stupid … I deserve it!” she cried out.

  “What else?”

  “I’ll never make anything of myself! I’m disgusting! I’m a whore! I’m … I …”

  “You what?” I challenged, barely keeping my own emotions in check.

  “I asked for it …” the sound of her deepest secret erupted into a menacing roar. It claimed every word, every void, every scar. It carried her pain to the altar and laid it down; it lit the match and watched it burn.

  My whole body was on high alert as my own lioness rose at her side.