by Emily Bold
‘Don’t say that. I will always be there. You don’t need to be scared, we’ll get through this together.’
‘But maybe that’s not what I want, Tim. Maybe I don’t want your last memory of me to be of you nursing your dying wife!’
‘Well, that’s just nonsense. You’re not going to stop me from taking care of you, Lauren. You’re not planning on checking yourself into some hospice or something, are you? Because I won’t go along with that!’
Lauren grimaced.
‘Hell if I know, Tim! The only thing I do know is that I don’t want our kids to see me like that. That’s not how I want to die!’
‘But you’re not going to spend your final days in a goddamn nursing home, Lauren! Are you? Because that’s not what I want!’
Lauren sighed and placed the palm of her hand against his. Hers was so much smaller than Tim’s, and yet they fit perfectly. Slowly, she interlaced her fingers with his.
‘I don’t know what I want, Tim. It’s not like I’ve been imagining exactly how I’m going to go. If I had any say in this, I would choose to die at the lake house. Just fall asleep peacefully . . .’
Tim nodded weakly. He didn’t say anything. Besides, what was there to say? Professor Ahrens never mentioned anything about gently slipping away. He had, however, mentioned seizures, shortness of breath and coma.
‘Why the lake house? Why not here?’ he changed the subject – probably because he had nothing else to say.
‘I love the lake house, Tim. You know that. It’s like the home of my soul.’ She kissed him. If the lake house was the home of her soul, then his kisses were the home of her heart.
‘Besides, I wouldn’t want to die here, in our home. This is where our kids are growing up. It would be horrible if they came to see this house through different eyes because their mother died in it. I don’t want them to walk these floors and remember where I . . . No, that’s not what I want!’
Tim pulled her closer against his chest, and she rested her head against his shoulder. Lost in thought, he caressed her back.
‘I see that. But . . .’
‘Let’s not talk about this anymore. I know we can’t really plan this, but at least now you know what I would want for myself – what is keeping me up at night.’
Tired, Lauren closed her eyes and listened to Tim’s breathing, his chest rising and falling.
‘What about Italy?’ Tim asked after a while. Lauren heard his voice, but she was slipping into the land of dreams so gently that she could no longer reply. Italy . . . the country of her dreams . . . She would never get to see it. Not because she couldn’t, but because there were more important things to take care of now. Her kids, her friends . . . her home. All this meant so much more to her. She didn’t mind giving up her trip to spend more time with her loved ones.
The next morning Lauren had a bad headache. The drugs weren’t working, and there was nothing left to do but stay on the sofa and hope for it to pass. This did not fit with how she’d imagined the rest of her much-too-short life to be, and her mood turned accordingly.
‘What’s wrong, Mommy?’ Alyssa asked and snuggled up to her. She had a whole zoo of stuffed animals under her arm, and every single one of the fluffy toys needed a warm spot under the blanket.
‘Are you sick?’
‘Yes, sweetie, a little.’
‘Is it your tummy? You could drink some tea,’ Alyssa suggested.
Lauren smiled, feeling touched.
‘No, my tummy is fine. It’s my head.’
‘Poor Mommy. I hope it goes bye-bye soon.’
Alyssa examined her toy elephant. She listened to its stomach and looked into its giant ears, just like she’d seen her pediatrician do.
‘It’s not going bye-bye, Alyssa. My head is making me very sick.’
Alyssa nodded and chewed her lip, as if pondering this. The toy elephant had broken its legs, and she massaged them back to health while she was thinking.
‘Every animal dies, Mommy, don’t they?’ Alyssa wondered, holding up her toy. ‘Elephants, too, right?’
Lauren forced herself to a smile. Apparently it was time to broach the subject. In pain, Lauren sat up and pulled Alyssa onto her lap. The smell of strawberry shampoo rose from her daughter’s hair, and Lauren took a deep breath of childhood innocence.
‘Yes, honey. All the animals die. Just like humans. Some die sooner, some later.’
‘But why?’
Why? That was a great question. What meaning was there left in life when you’re facing death? And what meaning was there to dying? Why this never-ending circle of life when nothing remained anyway?
‘That’s just the way it is, baby. No reason to be sad.’
‘I think it’s stupid. Dying is stupid.’
Lauren smiled. ‘Yes, sweetie, you’re totally right. Dying is stupid. But sometimes it’s a good thing. For example when you’re very, very sick.’ Lauren swallowed hard. ‘When you’re in really bad pain.’
‘You’re in really bad pain, aren’t you, Mommy?’
Lauren closed her arms so tightly around her daughter’s small frame that Alyssa gasped for air. Then she nodded.
‘Yes, sweetie, I’m in really bad pain.’
‘So does that mean you’re dying?’
‘Not today – and probably not tomorrow either. But when the time comes you won’t need to be sad, because you’ll know that I won’t feel the pain anymore. I’ll feel good, my sweet little pumpkin pie!’
Alyssa put on a serious face and chewed on her lip again. Then she had an idea.
‘Madison from preschool said that her hamster was sick and then God came and took him. Now he’s up in heaven. Do people go to hamster heaven, too?’
Lauren wasn’t very religious. She was way too practical about it – and lacked the time to think about her own religion in great detail. Now, especially, she couldn’t help but question the existence of a higher being. Still, religion seemed a good way – for Alyssa at least – to handle her illness and whatever else there was to come.
‘I believe that there is a big sky where humans and animals can live together,’ she explained. ‘And where everybody is happy, and nobody feels any pain.’
Alyssa nodded in understanding and pushed her elephant away.
‘Madison said her hamster is never coming back down from heaven. That’s sad . . .’ the four-year-old mused.
‘Yes, that’s sad. But so long as Madison doesn’t forget her hamster, it’s almost as if it’s still around.’
Alyssa was beaming now. ‘But how could she forget? She has a picture of him, and she looks at it all the time. It’s true; she told me.’
Lauren wiped a tear from her cheek that had quietly escaped from the corner of her eye, and kissed Alyssa on the forehead.
‘There you go.’
* * *
Lauren’s eyes wandered over to the bench where Alyssa had been sleeping for hours, wrapped up to her nose in a blanket. Her little baby! She loved everything about her: her gentle nature, her constant laughter and her angelic looks which melted the heart. She was sleeping so peacefully in the flickering light of the bonfire, oblivious to how precious every moment was on this special night.
Lauren found it hard to imagine where her kids would go from here. She was at a crossroads. No matter what she decided to do – there were no winners.
Suddenly full of doubt, she pushed away all thought of the approaching sunrise and took refuge in memories.
‘I was so full of energy, didn’t want to waste another second. But my headaches wouldn’t play ball and had me confined to bed for days. I was having horrible muscle cramps – sometimes several times a day. I really wanted to face this illness head-on, but it only became possible the day that you guys brought Italy to me.’
Italy in Your Living Room
‘Could you come down for a second, Mom?’ Mia asked, carefully sticking her head in through the open bedroom door. Lauren was sitting at her
vanity table, looking at the tiny tattoos inked into her skin above the ear and around the hairline. A set of tattoos for a round of treatment that seemed to have angered the tumor even further – so severely that it had decided to return with a vengeance.
Lost in thought, she turned around and nodded. Mia’s pitch-black hair still unsettled her, and she thought she could smell cigarette smoke. She took a deep breath but didn’t want to broach the subject just yet. Maybe she should talk to Tim first. Come up with a plan of action to get Mia back on the straight and narrow. The truth of the matter was that Lauren did not want to pick a fight with her daughter. It was hard enough for Mia to deal with the situation in her family. She was sad at times – too sad for a teenager. And angry at other times. Maybe a little too angry. At times still she was unapproachable and didn’t want to interact with anyone. Those were the toughest moments, moments during which Lauren felt utterly helpless. Didn’t Mia know that she, Lauren, didn’t have a lot of time left? That every day she was hiding out in her room was a day missed from their last few weeks together?
‘Mom?’
Mia entered, but then stopped in her tracks.
‘Yeah, sure. Sorry, I . . . I was just thinking how pretty you were.’
‘Mom!’ Mia grimaced. Hearing that from your own mother was totally uncool. ‘You coming?’ Without waiting for an answer, Mia withdrew before her mom could spout any more embarrassing nonsense.
Lauren followed her, smiling, trying to look forward to tonight. Tim had only mentioned that Rachel was planning a surprise. And Lauren didn’t really like surprises. She always preferred to know what was going on.
Still, curiosity took a hold of her like a nervous tingle in the stomach, and she listened to the noise floating up to her from below. She could hear Chris laughing and Tim saying something in return. Alyssa giggled, and the aromatic scent of dinner cooking was wafting through the whole house.
It was strange, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, when she reached the bottom of the stairs. As if she were an outsider. As if everyone down there was in on the preparations, sharing the secret, and she was the only one excluded from this circle of insiders. But this feeling passed when Alyssa threw herself at her, squeaking and squealing.
‘Surprise, Mom!’ she called excitedly, hopping up and down in front of Lauren. ‘Happy birthday tooooo youuu!’
‘But it’s not my birthday today, sweetie!’ Lauren chuckled, lifting her blonde angel up into her arms.
‘It’s a party song! It’s the only party song I know!’
‘Well then! I guess that makes it OK,’ Lauren admitted defeat. She looked into her friends’ smiling faces. Rachael was wearing the straw hat; Chris had painted a thin, twirly mustache above his upper lip using eyeliner; and Ben was holding a bottle of red wine in his hands.
‘Signorita Lorelei, comay over heray and lettay me hug you!’ Chris demanded with an over-the-top Italian accent and drew closer, his arms wide.
‘And who are you supposed to be?’ Lauren asked and evaded his passionate kiss because she really didn’t care for eyeliner on her cheek.
‘Me, why, I’m a full-blooded Italian of course!’ Chris declared in an indignant tone of voice.
‘We told him that that is not what a real Italian looks like, but he wouldn’t listen,’ Rachel giggled, using her fingers to paint an imaginary mustache into the air.
‘You guys! How would you know? Have any of you ever been to Europe? No! So you don’t know what you’re talking about!’ he defended himself, kissing Lauren on the back of her neck.
‘I think you look more like a French guy,’ Lauren agreed with Rachel, laughing and wiping the wet kiss from the back of her neck.
‘Uhhh, mon amour.’ Chris didn’t seem to mind. ‘So maybee I am a passionate Français!’
‘Your Français is going to get a good whipping if he doesn’t stop kissing another man’s wife!’ Tim giggled, shaking his fist and boxing Chris playfully in the side.
‘Can you guys stop, please?’ Rachel called from behind the kitchen island and lifted a steaming pot from the stovetop.
‘The pasta is al dente, and the pesto freshly made! Could somebody please fetch the pizza rolls from the oven and put the tomato salad on the table? And music! Where’s my music?’
Orders shouted by a pregnant lady carried a lot of weight, and there was movement in the group. To the smooth sounds of an Italian ballad, Mia and Alyssa guided Lauren toward her spot at the head of the table where a pile of presents, wrapped in shiny wrapping paper, were waiting to be unwrapped.
Once the plates were filled with Italian delicacies and everyone had taken their seat at the table, Rachel raised her glass – which, unlike the rest of the gang’s, did of course not contain actual wine – and cleared her throat.
‘Lauren, sweetie, we all know how much you’ve always wanted to travel to Italy. To be fair, we have no idea how a country like Italy is going to cope with you never visiting, but since we can’t make Italy happy we can at least make you happy and bring Bella Italia to you.’ She stuck out her pregnant belly and placed her hand over the curve.
‘Viva la famiglia!’ she called out, and her smoky voice added a touch of mafia to her motto. ‘And buon appetito!’
Lauren was deeply touched. Yes, her group of friends felt like a family to her. Her cheeks flushed with joy and embarrassment.
‘Thanks, you guys! You really are the best, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather take on this trip down wishful-thinking lane than you!’ Then she laughed and smiled in Chris’s direction. ‘And that includes the French guy!’
They toasted to a lovely evening and to good times spent together. Lauren, too, took a sip from the red wine, even though she anxiously wondered how it would mix with all her medication – well, it wouldn’t kill her, would it!
The pasta was cooked to perfection, the pesto perfectly seasoned, and Lauren was glad to enjoy a taste of the Mediterranean. She thought back to the day when she had oversalted a meal because her head was giving her trouble. Today, fortunately, all was well.
‘Delicious!’ she gushed with her mouth full and laughed at Alyssa, who had spaghetti almost hanging down to her chin. Before her illness, she would have grabbed a roll of paper towels, but all that mattered today was the joy of being together – not a potential pesto stain on her daughter’s T-shirt.
Still, they managed to work their way through their meal without any major disasters, and after an amazing dessert buffet consisting of tiramisu, panna cotta, and Italian ice cream, they were all slumped in their chairs, full and happy.
‘And now the presents!’ Alyssa cheered as soon as she had scooped the last bit of ice cream from her plate.
‘Oh, I think I need a break!’ Lauren begged, patting her belly. ‘I’m going to burst if I move.’
‘I can take the paper off for you,’ Alyssa offered, reaching for the first box. In no time at all she had unwrapped a miniature version of Michelangelo’s David, holding it up with a skeptical look on her face.
‘It’s a tiny naked man!’ she declared, confused, and handed it over to her mom. Everyone laughed.
‘I guess you could call it that,’ Tim agreed with his youngest, and tenderly kissed the top of her head. Then he handed her the next package.
And so Alyssa dug out a jar of sea-salt bath soak, a coffee table book on Italy, and a CD with classical Italian music from their shiny wrapping paper, when finally Mason brought out an olive tree in a terracotta planter.
‘You are crazy! Thank you so much! I . . . I don’t know what to say!’ Lauren hugged every single one of her best friends, before reaching Tim. She took his hand and snuggled up to him. ‘Who needs Italy when I have you guys!’
They laughed and joked – the evening was a huge success. Lauren was starting to feel quite hot from all the laughing, and so she stepped out into the yard to catch some fresh air. The night was clear and bright with countless stars illuminating the sky. Inside, a velvety Italian voice was sti
ll singing, and Lauren gently rocked along to the muffled sound of the music.
The voices grew louder for a moment as the patio doors were first opened and then closed again.
She turned around, and smiled.
‘Hey!’ Relaxed, she pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, waiting for Chris to come closer. ‘Were you getting hot, too?’
‘I’m OK – but I could do with some fresh air.’ He stepped closer and tilted his head back, the same way she was doing, to look up at the stars.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, and suddenly his voice didn’t sound as playful or smooth as it normally did. Lauren briefly looked at him, but then looked back up at the stars. His profile was quite angular, and it was really his long hair resting softly on his shoulders that softened his features.
‘I’m wondering what it’ll be like to die. I’m scared,’ she admitted, hesitating.
‘I’d be scared, too.’
He took in deep, audible breaths and then left the stars to their own devices. ‘I am sorry, Lorelei. You know that, right?’
There was deep sorrow in his eyes.
‘How do you mean?’
He shook his head and walked a few steps into the yard. Away from the light coming through the windows.
‘I have always thought it my job to protect you. From everything. I’ve felt responsible for you ever since you fell off my sister’s bicycle in our driveway when you were a little kid. But now, I . . . I feel helpless!’
Lauren went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. A dragon head tattoo peeked out from under his T-shirt sleeve, and again she thought back to her own, very unimpressive radiation tattoos.
‘It’s never been your job to watch out for me! Seriously, you don’t need to worry, Chris!’
‘Lorelei, you don’t understand.’ He brought some distance between himself and her. ‘You’re like a sister to me – maybe more. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing sexual, of course! You’re with Tim, and that’s great. I’m not in love with you – and never was, but . . . but I love you! You know? Not a single one of my affairs or relationships ever lasted. You’re the only woman who ever meant anything. The only one I need, Lorelei! And now I can’t help you? You, of all people? That’s . . . that’s bullshit!’