4
Sunday, 23rd October 2016
“WITH THE MEDICAL centre being so busy and the Navara breaking down, I was gone for hours. By the time I got home, Ty was already in bed and Susan had fallen asleep on the couch. I know she says she doesn’t mind, but I do feel I’m taking advantage of her sometimes. She’s always having to come to the rescue to help with Ty, either because of work or because I have an appointment of some sort.”
“Well, you can’t do it all on your own, Sarah. You have to work to put food on the table,” Janesa put in, jogging alongside me as we ran through Victoria Park. It was a Sunday ritual—a way to catch up and squeeze in some exercise at the same time. We had thought we were so busy when we were at university, but that was nothing compared to life with full-time jobs, children, and in Janesa’s case, a husband. She and Alex married almost three years ago and had a little girl twelve months later. She was adorable and was sitting in her jogger pram, legs kicking while she ate grapes and cheese out of a plastic snack cup. They lived over an hour away in Camden, but travelled back to our neck of the woods most weekends to visit family. Janesa always made time for Ty and me too—I think it was her way of limiting the time she spent around Alex’s slightly overbearing parents.
Ty was just ahead of us on his bike, the helmet looking too big on his head and his little feet peddling furiously while his training wheels helped him stay balanced.
“I know that. But I could put him in day care. He might like it.”
“Honestly, if Alex’s or my parents were able to watch Rosie, I’d jump at the chance. Her day care centre is great, but it’s not the same as having family around. If Susan says she’s happy to help then don’t question it.”
“I worry that it’s too hard on her, watching him. He’s so much like Tyler. I worry that it’s making it worse for her. I don’t even want to imagine how hard it would be to lose your son. If something ever happened to Ty…” A tightness formed at the base of my throat and I had to shake my head to force the feeling away. I didn’t know that I could cope without that little boy in this world. He was everything to me.
“Geez, Sarah, I can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose your husband. You’re so focused on how Susan is coping without her son and how Ty is coping without a father that I’m not sure you’re taking the time to focus on yourself.”
“I don’t want to focus on myself. I just want to keep going.”
“Then how are you ever going to move past it?”
“I lost my soulmate, Janesa. I don’t want to move past it.”
She went quiet and I felt awful. I’d basically slapped her in the face with my words. She’d been my best friend throughout uni and had stood by me during Tyler’s illness and passing, so she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. I swallowed hard then apologised.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have even said it. I know that this year in particular is hard for you. You get his ashes back soon, don’t you?”
The idea of Tyler’s remains being nothing but ashes that will be shipped from a research centre in a small box, felt like a lead weight that cascaded down my body and settled in my thighs, halting my step. I couldn’t keep running. “In January.”
Slowing to a walk beside me, she reached out and gave my arm a squeeze. “Have you thought about what you want to do with them? Alex and I would like to be with you when you say goodbye.”
My throat choked up and my vision grew blurry. It was something I never expected from grief—its ability to sneak up on you and still feel so raw years after the actual loss occurred. I never forgot what was missing, but it dulled to a bearable ache most days. Except for the moments when it would surge and feel new again, a reminder that I would never move past that one horrible moment when I heard his heart’s last beat.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Janesa said upon seeing my reaction.
“It’s OK. I know I have to think about it. And I think I know where we should, you know…” It was hard to keep talking and remain composed.
“We can talk about it later, OK?”
I nodded, grateful I didn’t have to try to explain where I was thinking of spreading Tyler’s ashes.
“Mummy!” Ty stopped his bike and pointed at something, smiling and laughing as he called for me to look.
Taking a deep breath, I composed myself before crouching down in front of him, drinking in his sweet face. Just looking at him soothed my soul. “What do you see?” I asked.
“That man. He’s walking a cat.” He giggled, his eyes sparkling with glee.
I reached out and touched his round cheek then turned to follow his pointed finger. The familiar figure of a tall pacifist with a broken nose came into view, a royal-blue lead in his hand that was connected to a black and white cat.
A grin spread across my face as I stood. The cat wasn’t being particularly cooperative. It would walk a few paces then double back before winding itself around Jude’s chino-clad legs.
Ty couldn’t stop giggling.
“We shouldn’t stare, should we?” Janesa laughed, joining us in watching Jude as he gave up and just picked the cat up.
“It’s OK. I know him,” I said, just as Jude looked up and spotted us. He smiled then dropped his gaze. A stuttered movement followed where it looked like he was trying to figure out where to put the cat. In the end, he tucked it under his arm.
“How’s your car?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of us. I could feel Janesa looking between us, her eyes noticing the brace on my wrist and the splint on his nose. I knew she was putting two and two together.
“It’s still sitting in the parking garage. I’m not game to drive it until it goes to the mechanic. Who’s this?” I asked, reaching out to scratch the cat under the chin.
“This is Sophie,” he said.
“Can I pat her?” Ty basically yelled.
“Sure.” Jude knelt down to Ty’s level and held the cat while Ty scratched it between the ears. Rosie yelled from her pram, her hands reaching toward the cat. Jude looked up at Janesa who told him it was fine for Rosie to pet the cat.
“Kitty,” Sophie said, tapping the cat’s head twice.
Janesa nudged me then cleared her throat. At first I didn’t get what she wanted then it dawned on me. “Oh, Jude, this is my friend Janesa from uni. Janesa, this is Jude, he lives in the building.”
“Nice to meet you,” Janesa said, shaking his hand while smiling up at him in a way that made him blush. She just couldn’t turn off that tiny-blonde-girl charm, even when she was a happily married woman.
“And who is this guy?” Jude asked, looking at Ty.
“I’m Tyler Lohan Junior,” Ty piped up.
“That’s some name,” Jude replied before looking at me. “Named after your husband?”
“She doesn’t have a husband,” Ty yelled.
Jude’s brow creased slightly. “I thought you said you were married.”
“I am, well, I was. And I didn’t say so much as you assumed,” I responded, looking to Janesa for some assistance so I didn’t have to clarify my answer any further. There had been many times since Ty’s birth where I found myself explaining why his father wasn’t in the picture. Each time, it felt like an extra knife in my already shattered heart. So I avoided answering whenever humanly possible.
Janesa came to my rescue immediately.
“So, Jude. Is this something you do often? Walk your cat?”
“What? Oh, no. This isn’t even my cat. It’s my stepmother’s. She’s gone on some cruise and coerced me into cat-sitting. Not sure why my sister couldn’t do it, but…” He shrugged and shifted tack. “I’ve only had her since last night. I went and picked her up after seeing you home,” he said to me before continuing. I didn’t know why, but I felt better knowing that. “Then she was meowing so much this morning that I thought she wanted to go for a walk. My stepmother assured me that I could walk her on the lead without any trouble, but it seems the opposite is the case.”
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“Most cats just live indoors, like, all the time,” Janesa responded.
He shrugged. The slight movement seemed to be his gateway gesture to a lot of answers. I wondered if he really was that unsure of what he was going to say, or if it was an awkward thing, signalling some sort of discomfort. “That doesn’t seem like much of an existence to me.”
His comment made me smile. Equality for all, I suppose.
“Can I walk your cat?” Ty piped up, reaching up to tug on Jude’s sleeve.
“Sure. But you’ll have to get off your bike.”
Ty jumped off as if that thing was on fire. Then Jude knelt down and placed the cat on the ground, looping the lead around Ty’s wrist and showing him how to hold it so the cat couldn’t run away. Ty giggled and chased the cat around on the grassy area beside us.
“Don’t you leave this area,” I warned. Janesa moved closer so Sophie could watch and she could supervise, leaving Jude and me on our own.
“He seems like a happy kid,” Jude commented.
“He’s the light of my life.” I smiled, watching them.
“How’s your hand?”
“Fractured. Your nose?”
“Fractured.” He glanced at me and we both smiled.
“Strange way to start a friendship,” I mused.
“Is that what we are?”
“Maybe.” I focused my attention on Ty, my eyes squinting from the sun. “Time will tell, I guess.”
He made a humming sound with his lips pressed together. I didn’t know if he was doubtful or just agreeing with me. After a small moment, Janesa guided Ty back to us and he reluctantly returned the lead to Jude.
“I’m better at warking her dan you are,” Ty announced, still yelling.
“I believe that,” Jude responded, nodding.
“I can walk her again?”
“Next time?” Jude confirmed.
Ty nodded and twisted at the waist, side to side, unable to keep still. “Yeah. ’Cause yaw soooo bad at it.”
Jude chuckled. “I’ll see what I can arrange.” Jude gave him a wink then turned to walk away. “I’d better let you get back to your day. See you around, Sarah. Nice to meet you, Janesa, Ty and Rosie.” He lifted a hand in a wave then went on his way.
The moment he was out of earshot, Janesa turned to me, a question mark practically painted on her face.
“What?”
“Am I missing something here?”
“No.” I helped Ty back on his bike and we started jogging after him again.
“Your hand is hurt. His nose seems broken. And he knew all about your car trouble last night. I think I most certainly am missing something.”
“It’s nothing, Janesa. He’s just some guy from my building that I’ve run into a couple of times.”
“And you talk?”
“I guess so, yeah, we talk.” It was my turn to shrug.
“He’s quite beautiful, you know. In an awkward nerdy sort of way.”
I shot her a look that told her not to continue along that line of conversation.
She held up one hand in surrender, the other one resting on the pram’s handlebar. “I’m just making an observation. I’m not saying you have to date the guy.” We jogged a few more steps in silence before she added more. “Although, if you liked him that way. It wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“Oh my God.”
“OK. I’m done.”
“Are you sure? You have that look on your face that says you have a lot more to say.”
“I’m fine. I promise. He’s just nice, and I think—”
“Janesa,” I whined, laughter in my voice.
“OK. I’m done,” she said again. “I’ll talk about something else.”
“Talk about you. Does Alex still want you to have eleven of his giant babies?”
She groaned while smiling about it. “Yes! I honestly think my vag would become a wind tunnel if I kept going. But we’ve come to an agreement that we’ll try for number two when Rosie turns three. He wants six kids. Six. I’m struggling with one. So it really has to be something that we play by ear.”
For the rest of the run, the conversation stayed focused on Janesa and the quirks of married life. I loved listening to her, loved the mundane silliness of it all. It was a point I never got to with Tyler. Everything between us was so brief that we never got the chance to become complacent. Most people fall in love, have their fairy-tale wedding, then settle into everyday life together. It gets boring, routine, and they take each other for granted, fighting over things like who should do the dishes and who has to take the dog for a walk. I would give anything for the chance to have grown complacent with Tyler. Anything. I think that was part of what made life without him hard. I missed everything we never got to have. I missed it every moment of every day.
I made a promise that I can’t keep. Sarah begged me not to leave and I promised her I wouldn’t. But it was a lie. I will leave her. Each time my symptoms flare up. Each time I have a relapse.
Each time I’ll hide it from her.
Each time I’ll shut her out.
At first it will only be for short periods—a week, maybe two, maybe more—but eventually, when this disease takes all it can from me, I’ll leave her forever. I’m not going to change my mind on that.
I’m trying hard to live in the moment. Ever since I was diagnosed, I knew my time being able-bodied was limited. I’m trying to be normal while normal is a thing for me. I’m trying to live the absolute best life I can, for as long as I can.
I’m young—too young for this to be a thing. She’s young too—too young to fall for a man living on borrowed time.
I never thought I’d get the chance to feel this way about someone and as unfair as it is on her, I don’t want to walk away from her. I’m selfish. I’m an arsehole for wanting this, for wanting her. But, I want to have it all. I want to love someone. I want someone to love me back.
I WANT TO BE THE REASON THAT GIRL SMILES.
I want that so bad. But in my gut, I keep getting this nagging feeling because I know, I KNOW, that each time I hurt her those smiles will get further and further apart. And there’s no way I can’t hurt her. I can feel us getting closer. She’s falling just like I’m falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
I’m in love with her. Selfishly.
*
Excerpt from Tyler’s Journal
5
Wednesday, 9th November 2016
“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SWEETHEART.” I heard the words whispered in my ear in that moment between wakefulness and sleep. I’d gone to bed knowing what the morning would bring; a fresh wave of grief. Today would have been our fifth wedding anniversary.
A lump formed in my throat followed by a steady stream of silent tears that saturated my pillow. I rolled onto my side and pulled my rings from my bedside drawer, slipping them over my finger then hugging my hands against my chest, crying some more. I stayed that way until I could breathe again. And even then, I think I only stopped crying because the sun came up and I had responsibilities. I had a son who needed me, a son who depended on me. During the deepest moments of my grief, he was always the light that was shining, guiding me through that dark so I could again feel the sun on my face. And yet, I kept sinking.
Trudging into the bathroom, I splashed some cold water on my face before rubbing BB cream all over it to cover the redness before I faced the day. Ty was a perceptive boy, and he worried when I got sad. And I got sad a lot. A grieving mother was a lot for a little boy to bear.
When I washed the product off my hands, I took a moment to look at my rings, remembering the moment they were put there. I could still see his face so clearly, hear his words in my ears; “When you have someone who loves you, it’s brighter and more beautiful than the sun and stars in the sky.”
I felt him around me all the time. But on these days, the special ones, that feeling was so intense I was sure that if I closed my eyes and reac
hed out, I’d actually be able to touch him.
Once again, it was the numbers that got me, the counting of the days, the anniversaries, the birthdays. Each one that went by meant he’d been gone for a little longer. Each one another click on a counter. Each one making my heart ache a little more. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
Moving back into my bedroom, I slid the rings off my finger and returned them to the jewellery box in my draw. For a long time, I still wore them, but people would see them and make a reference to a husband that was no longer there.
I took them off to spare myself a little pain.
“Mummy,” Ty sing-songed as he burst into my room and bounced onto the bed. “I’m so es-cited.”
With a smile that cut through the sadness, I reached out and caught him in my arms, hugging him to my chest. “I love you, little golden boy.”
He settled his head on my shoulder, his curls brushing against my neck. “I love you too, Mummy.”
We stayed like that for a few moments. I think if I needed it, Ty would sit and hug me all day. He was special. He was sensitive. And because of that I was conscious of not letting my fight become his. For him, I smiled. For him, I lived. For him, I took these days—the saddest ones—and turned them into a fun memory. I think Tyler would have liked that idea, too.
“You want some breakfast?” I asked, pulling back so he was sitting in my lap and I could see his face.
“Can’t we have bwek-fast at Luna Park?” He was so serious that I laughed, touching him lightly on the nose.
“They won’t be open yet. So we have to eat here.”
He scrunched up his face. “How ’bout we go to Mic-donalls?”
“McDonalds? Hmmm, I think we can probably do that.”
He beamed. And half an hour later we were both ready and walking out the door with Ty rushing down the hall to hit the elevator button first. I called after him, telling him to wait before getting on the lift. When I caught up the first thing I heard was, “Where’s your cat?”
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