One Summer Night

by Emily Bold

  Rachel was leafing through an amazing coffee table book on Rome, letting out sounds of amazement and wonder.

  ‘You have got to see this! Incredible what they were building back in the day, don’t you think?’ She held up the book so that Lauren, who was hunched over a map on the other side of the table, could see the picture.

  The Coliseum.

  Lauren opened her mouth to say exactly that, but . . . found it impossible to catch the word floating through her mind. It was there. Lauren knew it. She looked at the photograph showing the famous amphitheater bathed in golden evening light, but she found it impossible to say its name. A groan escaped her throat, and she closed her eyes. Say something, she scolded herself, but her thoughts came and went, too fast to catch, like a snowflake in the wind.

  ‘Lauren? Are you all right?’ Rachel closed her book and searched her friend’s face. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘I . . .’ Lauren was fighting to regain her language. All the words had suddenly disappeared. She could feel her tongue trying to form a sound inside her mouth, but it was as if it had forgotten how it worked.

  Shaking all over, she pushed herself out of her armchair and fled into the kitchen. The map slipped to the floor, tearing on one corner, but she barely noticed. She bypassed grabbing a glass and went straight for the faucet to take a big drink of ice-cold water. Her head was throbbing, and she bent over the sink. She was sweating and shivering at the same time, and a roar filled her ears as if she was about to pass out.

  Desperately, she held her hands under the running water, washing her face over and over again. The straw hat slipped from her head, and she put her cold and wet fingers on the surgical scar on her scalp.

  ‘Lauren?’ Rachel with her baby belly had fought her way out of the depths of the sofa and was now rubbing her back. ‘What’s going on? Are you all right? Are you in pain?’

  Lauren gasped for air. She shook her head, because there still weren’t any words forming in her tight throat. Her legs were shaking, and she was scared she’d collapse. Panicked, she dug her fingers into the side of the wash basin, forcing herself to calm down.

  Breathe in, breathe out – and again.

  In and out. Exhausted, she turned off the tap, watching the water droplets dripping from the tip of her nose and into the sink. Then she turned to Rachel.

  ‘Could you get me a towel?’ she said in a hushed tone, because she didn’t trust her own voice.

  ‘Of course! What’s going on?’ Rachel handed her the towel and, trying to be helpful, held her elbow. ‘Are you all right?’ she repeated, her voice full of concern.

  Lauren pressed her lips together and nodded.

  ‘Yes. Better. I was . . . I was feeling a little dizzy,’ she lied, plopping onto the nearest barstool. She had no idea how she could even explain what just happened. Even trying to remember turned out to be difficult. Everything seemed so normal now, which was the main thing. Maybe all these preparations were more stressful than she’d thought.

  ‘Do you need anything? Can I help in any way?’

  Rachel still seemed very worried, already holding her cell phone in her hand – probably to call Tim. But the last thing Lauren wanted right now was to turn this whole thing into a drama.

  ‘Something to eat would be nice. I think I completely forget about regular meals because I’m so excited about the trip. This feeling dizzy . . . Must be my blood sugar level. Do you mind . . . ?’

  Rachel held up her hand in relief, to interrupt her.

  ‘Say no more, sweetie! Go lie down on the couch, and I’ll cook us something nice. When is Mia back from school? She’ll be hungry, too, I guess . . .,’

  She disappeared behind the fridge door, rummaging for ingredients for a quick pasta dish.

  ‘How does a creamy bacon sauce sound to you and your blood sugar?’ she asked, and got to chopping up the bacon into little cubes.

  ‘You know I’ll eat anything. Don’t make too much, though, because Mia is going to a girlfriend’s house after school, and Alyssa and my mother are going into town after preschool. They want to pick my dad up from the firm and then buy God-knows-what for the garden. Alyssa really wanted to go.’

  ‘What could be so exciting about a garden center?’ Rachel asked, probably wondering whether her own child would develop such interests after it was born.

  Lauren giggled. ‘Nothing. But I think she’s hoping for an ice cream. Even the tiniest ray of sunshine always gets my mom to buy her an ice cream.’

  Rachel filled the big pasta pot with water and put on the lid. Then she took the frying pan and turned on the range.

  ‘I have a question, Lauren – please don’t take this the wrong way, but . . .’ Rachel hesitated. Thoughtfully, she added the bacon to the hot pan.

  ‘But what? Ask away,’ Lauren said encouragingly.

  ‘All right, here we go. I mean, the kids. They’re always out and about. Don’t you feel . . . don’t you feel you should be spending more time with them?’ Rachel asked, sounding a little embarrassed.

  Fussing over the sizzling pan, she kept stirring the bacon to bridge the long silence. It took Lauren a while to respond.

  ‘Hm, it’s not that easy, Rachel. Of course I would prefer to have the kids around me all the time. I don’t want them to even leave the house anymore and would love to spend every minute of every day with them, but . . . but that would be selfish.’

  ‘Selfish? How so?’

  Lauren got up from her barstool and added a little salt to the boiling pasta water.

  ‘When I die, I want my kids to have a stable, supportive environment. I want them to have a daily routine that helps them find their way, and I need people around them that can comfort them and make them feel safe. If I take Alyssa out of preschool now, she’s going to lose contact with the other kids. Which means that later on she won’t have a friend who can catch her, you know? I don’t want her to feel awkward and lonely in her everyday life when I’m no longer around. It doesn’t bother me that she’s having a nice time with my parents, because they’re going to be there for her after I die. And I feel the same way about Mia.’ She added pasta to the pot and wrinkled her nose at the sharp stench of the onions Rachel had started to chop. ‘I think it’s very important for her to have girlfriends who love and support her. It wouldn’t be right if I pulled her out of everything and made her spend all of her time with me – even though there’s nothing else I’d rather do.’

  Rachel looked at her.

  ‘I really admire how you’re handling this, Lauren. I . . . I could never plan this far ahead,’ she confessed, and her eyes swam with tears, maybe not all of which were onion-induced.

  ‘Sure you could. When you love someone this much, you just want to see them happy. I want my children to be OK if . . . well, I mean if one day that’s possible for them. And besides, I will have them all to myself during our trip to Italy!’

  After Rachel left that afternoon, Lauren took a nap and felt noticeably better for it. She felt so good, in fact, that she decided to join her parents and Alyssa on their way to the garden center.

  And so she found herself sitting beside her three-year-old on the backseat of her parents’ car and listening to the country music her dad loved so much. Lauren was surprised to see her parents happy about her tagging along, but they probably felt the same way she did: They wanted to spend every remaining minute with their daughter. The mood in the car was boisterous. Lauren and Alyssa were happily sucking on their ice cream cones, singing along to the songs, while Celeste kept a watchful eye to make sure no ice cream trickled onto the seats. She had to strain her neck so much that she felt motion-sick, which increased the general cheeriness in the car even further.

  When they arrived at the parking lot, Lauren wiped Alyssa’s chocolate-covered mouth and cheeks, and gave her a nice big smooch on her sugar-sweet lips. Then she followed her parents into the home improvement center.

  ‘What do you think, h
oney?’ Lauren asked, thinking about that overgrown patch with all the old bushes. ‘Should we grab a few things for our own yard, too?’ The days were mild enough to do some landscaping in that drab corner.

  ‘Oh, like what? Flowers? Can we get flowers with purple blooms, Mommy?’

  ‘All right, purple for you – but what would Mia like? Maybe we’ll buy her her own house plant?’ Lauren suggested. She enjoyed the feeling of holding her daughter’s hand. With Alyssa being almost four years old now, after all, this was no longer a regular occurrence. The little girl’s curls bounced up and down with every step, and her windbreaker jacket had half-slipped off her shoulder.

  ‘Mia likes black,’ Alyssa pondered in-between hopping. ‘But black blooms aren’t very pretty, are they?’

  ‘You’re right. Besides, I don’t think we’ll find anything black in here.’

  The scent of the flowers standing on large shelves outside tickled her senses. Lauren instantly felt the urge to press her nose into the many, multi-colored blooms, and to twist the kitchen herbs in their pretty terracotta planters between her fingers to release their aroma.

  ‘Here, honey, smell this – what do you think?’ Lauren asked, grabbing a pink hyacinth from one of the shelves. The hyacinth’s umbel was so lush and heavy that Lauren was worried the stem might snap under its weight. Carefully, she held the flower out to Alyssa. The intensely sweet scent reminded her of a floral perfume.

  ‘Mmm, nice! And look! They have them in purple, too!’ Alyssa was giddy, excitedly bouncing up and down beside Lauren. ‘So many pretty colors! Can we buy all of them?’

  Lauren laughed and went to fetch a shopping cart.

  ‘No, sweetie, not all of them. But we’ll take a couple. Come on, I’m sure we can find a few more nice things.’

  Alyssa grabbed the side of the cart, riding along, but every few yards she would jump down whenever she discovered something new.

  ‘Where is Grandpa? I want to show him what we got!’

  ‘I don’t know. I think they wanted to check out the flowerbed borders. How about we go to the perennials first, and then see if we can find Grandma and Grandpa. What do you think?’

  Alyssa nodded gravely, then wrinkled her forehead. ‘What are prennels, Mom? Are they like fennel, like the one Aunt Heather grows in her garden?’

  Heather was the elderly widow who lived in the house next door. She was almost like a grandmother to them and had won all the kids’ hearts long ago with her kindness. That, and the cookies and assorted treats she would always hand out over her garden fence. Lauren liked Heather because she never complained about Alyssa being too boisterous when she played outside.

  ‘Perennials – they’re called perennials,’ Lauren corrected her, pushing the cart past the DIY section and in the direction of the garden division.

  The shopping cart’s clattering on the hard floors was getting on her nerves, and she started getting a headache underneath the flickering, artificial light. Maybe they should go looking for Grandma and Grandpa first, and maybe those two could take over this awful noise machine of a a cart.

  On their way to the plants, they passed Mediterranean shrubs, olive trees, orange trees and lime trees. Perfectly shaped into spheres and sitting in sea blue mosaic planters, they instantly made Lauren get itchy feet.

  She was glad they were taking this trip to Italy. It was crazy how long she’d been wanting to do this – and for how long she’d been willing to take a backseat. She never minded putting her own wants last, but it made her realize that she should have tried making the best of each day far sooner. A little overwhelmed by the lavish offering of plants and flowers, she pushed her cart past flowering hedges that were on special offer, trying to size up the dimensions of that corner in her yard. How many plants could she even fit in there? Maybe it was best to . . .

  She stopped mid-thought. Her head was buzzing.

  To . . . to return to the store with . . . with him. With him . . . Lauren pressed her fists over her eyes, and shivers took over her body. She opened her mouth trying to scream, feeling so utterly helpless. Him! Her husband! Who . . . ? She looked into Alyssa’s shocked little face before the world around her descended into darkness.

  * * *

  Lauren paused. Today she was only too aware of what had happened back then, but she remembered that at that time she could no longer make sense of the world. She felt chilly and stepped closer to the fire. The warmth felt pleasant on her legs, and she tried to stop herself from trembling, with that memory so real and vivid before her eyes.

  ‘Alyssa’s scream echoed through the entire store. Our blood ran cold when we saw you lying there on the floor, not moving,’ Peter chimed in, and helplessly shook his head.

  A Bitter Awakening

  Lauren realized right away where she was, even before she opened her eyes. The hospital smell was unmistakable. But why was she here? She opened her eyes a narrow slit, but all she could see was a blur. Deep in her heart she knew what this meant. She didn’t even need to listen to the conversation Doctor Eckhard and Tim were having over in one corner of the room.

  Tim! That was it: That was the name she couldn’t recall for the life of her. Relief flooded through her, mixed with debilitating fear. Ever since the surgery, the only symptoms of her illness had been mild headaches, nausea and problems with her vision. But now her mind, her memory, her . . . her very core seemed affected.

  ‘. . . possible that the cancer has returned. We should do another MRI as soon as possible, to check.’

  Lauren turned her face away. She didn’t want to hear this. It was only now that she noticed her mother, who was sitting on one of the visitor chairs, clutching her handkerchief like a lifeline.

  ‘Where’s Alyssa?’ Lauren croaked. Even though she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, she distinctly remembered glimpsing the fear in her daughter’s eyes for a second before passing out.

  Celeste looked up and came over to her bed, her shoulders hunched.

  Suddenly she looked very old. Her normally perfect make-up was smudged, and her hands were shaking. Never before had Lauren noticed the wrinkles around her mother’s eyes so clearly.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Celeste asked, smoothing down her comforter. She liked things neat and tidy, even in here.

  ‘Yes. But where’s Alyssa? Is everything OK with her? What . . . what happened?’

  Celeste sat down on the hospital bed, glancing over toward the door where Tim and Doctor Eckhard were still talking. She leaned over and whispered:

  ‘The doctor says you had something like an epileptic fit. You know I can’t make sense of any of this, but you collapsed right in the middle of the garden center. You passed out, or something. They called the paramedics, and here we are. Your dad took Alyssa to the hospital cafeteria. She’s fine, but she doesn’t understand what’s going on with you. We didn’t tell her anything – I think it’s best if you and Tim do that yourselves.’

  Before Lauren could respond, Doctor Eckhard stepped closer.

  ‘Hi, Lauren.’ He held out his hand, and as always she felt calm when she looked into his friendly face. ‘I was hoping I wouldn’t get to see you again this soon,’ he declared, pressing his lips together in sympathetic regret.

  ‘As was I,’ Lauren replied and attempted a brave smile. She could feel how miserably she was failing when her lip started trembling.

  ‘You had a kind of seizure. Can you tell me how you’re feeling, Lauren? Have you noticed yourself getting worse recently? Have the headaches returned? Anything else out of the ordinary?’

  So many questions – and Lauren was finding it hard enough to just listen to him. She touched, as she always did when she was nervous, her head and wrinkled her forehead.

  Yes, the headaches had been a little more frequent. She couldn’t do without her painkillers, especially in the mornings, right after waking up, but Doctor Ahrens had mentioned that recurring pain after the surgical procedure she had was not
uncommon. As for her vision . . . Well, it hadn’t really improved since the operation, but she barely noticed anymore how blurry everything was.

  ‘Lauren? Can you hear me?’ Eckhard repeated, bending over her. He studied her face thoroughly, and Lauren felt a little self-conscious at being under such scrutiny.

  ‘Yes, I . . . I’m thinking.’ She felt put on the spot. ‘Uh . . . I’m not sure how I’m feeling. I feel good . . . I guess.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice to hear. But to be on the safe side, I think we should do another MRI scan as soon as possible, to see what made you collapse earlier. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get everything set up.’

  Lauren nodded and looked over to Tim, who had been listening and looked pale and lost. There was worry in his eyes, and he looked unkempt as if he’d been tearing at his hair.

  ‘Very well. I will arrange for a nurse to take you down to radiology. We will meet again as soon as I have evaluated the results. But please, try not to worry too much, Lauren.’

  Eckhard disappeared, his white coat billowing out behind him, and as soon as the door closed all hell broke loose and a million questions hailed down on her.

  ‘What the hell, Lauren! What happened? Are you all right? Do you remember anything? Why didn’t you call me in the office if you weren’t feeling well?’ Tim demanded to know, nervously running his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking, and his lips were pale and lifeless.

  Full of worry, he sat down on the bed next to her and took her freezing fingers into his.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No. I’m fine. I don’t know what happened. I suddenly felt so . . . so weird. Like earlier this morning, I . . . I was feeling a little . . . confused.’

  ‘What do you mean, confused?’ Celeste asked, pulling her chair closer to the bed.