by Emily Bold
Chris was a strong man, and yet he was now standing before her, crying.
Lauren buried her face in her hands, because she didn’t want him to see how the tears were streaming down her face, too.
‘Nobody can help me, Chris! Nobody. Stop blaming yourself,’ she said seriously. ‘You’ve always been there for me – which is more than I ever dared to hope. And which is why I love you, too. You, and everyone else! My life would be nothing without you guys, but you don’t bear the blame for what’s happening to me. Nor do I.’
She felt his arms around her, full of friendship and affection, and felt his tiny, friendly kisses against her temple, and finally gave in to her grief. A grief that had her stuck in bed for days, robbed her of sleep during the night and made her turn into an obnoxious person during the daytime. She gave in to her desperation because nothing would ever be right again and because she was scared out of her mind of losing control. Not scared of death, but of what would come before then.
Chris gently rubbed her back, telling her in detail about her exciting fall from the bicycle’s rear rack. He told her stories of her childhood without paying attention to whether she was even listening. And Lauren felt his pain as if it were her own. She didn’t need to be strong right now. Didn’t need to be a wife, a mother, a daughter. Didn’t need to assume responsibility or give comfort. Right now, she was allowed to cry like a child who had skinned her knee one summer a million years ago. And just like then, Chris held her safely against his shoulder, telling her stories until it stopped hurting.
‘I know one way you can help me,’ Lauren sobbed after a while and wiped away her tears. Her lips were trembling, and everyone would notice the wet stain against Chris’s shoulder. But she didn’t care. An idea – a thought she had never before allowed in her head – started taking shape. It was a thought she needed to work through to the end before discussing it openly. But to do that, she needed help.
* * *
Chris kicked a pebble away from the bonfire’s circle of light and out into the lake. The muffled splash startled several sleeping ducks.
‘I love you, Lorelei,’ Chris repeated his words from before, and Rachel added: ‘We all do!’
Lauren placed her hand on her chest, feeling touched, and got up.
‘And I love you, too! All of you!’ She walked over to Tim and reached for his hand. ‘Thank you all for being here with me tonight,’ she squeezed out, her voice shaking, and took refuge in Tim’s arms.
He kissed her and rubbed her back to drive out the cold that had settled in her bones.
‘I still think you should have trusted me more, Lauren. You should have just talked to me back then,’ he muttered.
I Am Your Husband
‘This is wrong, Lauren! So wrong!’ Tim yelled. This was something that rarely happened, but he felt utterly betrayed by Lauren’s behavior. ‘Is this one of your solo acts again? One of those decisions you make without involving me?’ He ran his hands through his hair and glared at her angrily. ‘And here I was thinking we were past this, once and for all!’
‘Oh, Jesus, Tim! Seriously! The way you’re making it sound. One of my solo acts . . . You’re insane!’
‘I’m not insane, Goddammit! You just go ahead and . . .’ He shook his head, still stunned at her lone decision. ‘. . . and talk to a counselor about this – and you ask Chris to come along? What the hell? Why him? I am your husband in case you forgot!’
From inside, Lauren glanced over to the patio doors. They were slightly ajar, and Chris was sitting outside on top of the garden wall, giving them some much-needed privacy. He had driven Lauren to the counseling appointment and was now trying to dodge their fight. The deep sound of the church bells ringing the full hour did not bode well. Her parents would arrive soon with the kids. She and Tim would need to settle this right now.
Much calmer now, she walked over to Tim and looked him straight in the eye.
‘I asked Chris precisely because he’s not my husband. He’s not affected, if you will. I wanted to make up my own mind, for me, and only for me. Without thinking of you or the kids,’ she explained urgently. She hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, the way he usually liked doing to her, and pulled him against her. ‘But I didn’t do it to make a solo decision, Tim. I wanted to know what my options are. Just for me – just so I would know.’
A little calmer, Tim placed his arms around her shoulders.
‘And what are those options?’ he asked, still sounding disgruntled. Before Lauren could respond, Chris’s head appeared in the door.
‘Sorry – don’t mean to disturb you, but the kids are on their way. You all right?’
Lauren took a step back from her husband, and Tim pulled his pants back into shape. He nodded, not feeling like getting into a conversation with Chris. He wasn’t jealous, but it hurt that Lauren shared her deepest thoughts with Chris while keeping them a secret from him.
‘Would you mind taking care of the girls?’ Lauren pleaded, looking her friend in the eye. ‘We need some alone time to discuss this – without the kids.’
‘Sure, I haven’t played with a Barbie doll in a long time – I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!’ Chris joked, and put on his wicked smile.
‘I think Mia stopped playing with Barbie dolls some time ago,’ Lauren pointed out, but Chris only shrugged his shoulders.
‘Oh, don’t worry about Mia – I have her wrapped around my little finger.’
Now that Chris had agreed to take care of the kids, Lauren and Tim strolled, hand in hand, the short distance down towards the lake house. The fresh spring air soothed their nerves and took its calming effect.
‘All right, honey. What insights did you gain from today’s discussion with your doctors?’ Tim asked seriously, bending down to the doormat in order to pick up the house keys. He bowed as Lauren entered the house, stepping past him, and quietly closed the door behind them.
Every time they came here, it was as if they were sharing a secret. And the air between them was electric; something they both found hard to ignore. Here, at the lake house, they felt closer to one another than anywhere else.
Single-mindedly, Lauren walked up the stairs to the upper floor and, spread-eagled, plopped herself down on the bed.
‘If I tell you what we discussed, you’re not going to understand. It’s . . . difficult, Tim.’
He sat down next to her on the bed, leaned against the headboard, and slipped off his shoes. His eyes full of love, he admired his wife lying next to him on the satin sheets. A few bright-red strands of hair had come undone from her braid and framed her freckled face. She seemed so fragile: The illness had left its mark. The glow of her skin was muted, her worry lines deeper, her eyes tired.
‘Is that why you asked Chris? Because he understands you better?’
Pondering this, Lauren rolled over to her side and placed her head across his stretched-out legs.
‘I don’t think anyone understands me. Heck, I don’t even understand myself.’
She held up her hands into the fading sunlight without saying another word. Having a fight over Chris was easier than discussing her feelings, but for Tim the issue seemed settled. He waited for her to continue.
‘There’s been one thing on my mind, Tim, that I haven’t been able to shake. This fear of being completely at the mercy of this illness. This fear of crossing the point of no return where I can no longer make decisions for myself. About living and about dying.’
‘What do you mean?’
She took a deep breath and avoided his gaze.
‘I’m talking about choosing when and how to go. Assisted dying, Tim.’
His face became distorted.
‘Assisted dying,’ he repeated in complete confusion and looked at Lauren without understanding.
‘Jesus, Tim!’ Lauren pleaded helplessly. ‘I need you to understand! My brain is failing! This cancer is going to change me, paralyze me, control me! I’m losing control! These muscle cra
mps are getting worse and worse, the drugs are making me nervous and restless and they suck my energy dry – but if I don’t take them, then the headaches become unbearable. I’m scared that I won’t be able to handle what’s to come. I don’t want to choke to death during one of my seizures!’
‘Are you talking about suicide?’ Tim interrupted her in disbelief.
‘No, of course not! Do I look like I’m about to kill myself?’ Lauren could not stand lying in bed any longer. She got up and walked over to the window. The warm rays of the sun on her back made her feel strong. Tim was her husband, her lover, her best friend. She needed him to understand. ‘Suicide is when you end your own life because you’re stuck in an impossible situation – because you can’t see a way out of some problem you have. I don’t want to take my own life, Tim! I love my life. I am happy with my life. And I’m enjoying it every single day!’ She loosened her braid and combed through her long, red curls using her fingers. The rays of the sun caught in her hair, and Tim thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
‘So what are we talking about then?’ His voice was quiet. He rolled out of bed, walked over to her and buried his hands in her flaming hair.
She was his wife! He didn’t want to talk to her about this. He wanted to kiss her, let his hands wander over her body, lift her up, and carry her over to the bed. He wanted to make love to her all night and then kiss away her worries. But she slipped from him, like her hair through his fingers.
‘I’m going to die, Tim. There’s no cure. No miracle and no way out. The cancer is going to take my memories, myself, and everything that I am – if I let it. Which I’m not going to allow. And if you love me, you’re not going to allow it either.’
‘So how do you picture this? I don’t think I follow.’
The fabric of his shirt under her fingers was cool, but she could feel the warmth of Tim’s skin underneath. Tenderly, she pushed her fingers inbetween the buttons on his shirt, to feel closer to him.
‘I want to live, Tim. I want to live and experience every single day that I’m feeling well. I can take a punch, you know that, and for as long as I can handle it – this whole cancer business, I mean – I’m going to think of every moment as a precious gift and be all the more grateful for it. But when . . . before my mind goes and before I’m completely at the mercy of this illness and without being able to make decisions for myself, my body, and my death – I want to be allowed to call it quits.’ She pressed her lips together for a moment to hide the fact that she was shaking. ‘I want to die with dignity.’ She looked at him, searching those eyes she loved so much for a glimmer of understanding.
Tim tried to take in what he was hearing. To see it through Lauren’s eyes, but he found it hard enough to even think about her premature death, let alone accept it. Didn’t they need to try to hold on until the last moment? Hope for a miracle until the bitter end?
The silence between them dragged on, and Lauren nervously ran her tongue over her lips. Ever since she had talked to Professor Ahrens and the counselor she had felt relieved. Liberated, even. Her mind was now free to think about things other than her fear of living out her life in a vegetative state once the cancer took over. She had the option of escaping that fate. There was another door – another path, which wouldn’t be easy to take, but one which would enable her to die the way she wanted. Not that she wanted to die . . .
‘Tim?’ His thoughts were clearly written on his face – and what she saw was disappointment and incomprehension.
‘It’s a mistake, Lauren,’ he muttered.
‘Why? Would you rather see the world around me dissolve into nothingness? See me forget about everything we’ve been through together? See me forget how much I love you? That I have kids? Or parents? So you would prefer to see me having seizures, losing the ability to speak, and maybe even going blind? That’s what you’d prefer? How can you even say that if you love me!’
‘I don’t want you to throw away your life – and that’s precisely because I love you!’
Lauren could feel his barely contained anger. His hands were shaking, and his jaw was grinding, but he didn’t walk away. A good sign. Their time together was too precious to fight.
Desperate for support and comfort, she sank against his chest and found herself shrouded in his scent. She wasn’t looking for an argument. She needed him to understand. Standing on tiptoes, she tenderly brushed her lips against his, and after a moment of hesitation, Tim returned her kiss. His hands wandered down her back and grabbed her waist.
‘It’s just an option, Tim. Noting is decided yet. I just want you to think about it, the way I’m going to think about it, too.’
‘But I need you, Lauren! The kids need you!’
‘And you think I don’t know that? Do you think it’s easy for me? Besides, I’m not talking about sticking a gun in my mouth to end my life tomorrow! I’m talking about the moment when I can no longer bear the pain and before the illness destroys me, that I . . . with our family support, that I can leave this world with dignity.’ Her eyes were pleading for him to understand. ‘With dignity, Tim. To die peacefully and with dignity, that’s something that’s important to me.’
He shook his head again, and finally pushed her away.
‘I’m sorry, Lauren. I . . . I’m going to need some time to think about this.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I see what you’re saying, but . . .’
He turned away, and Lauren wanted to scream at the top of her lungs just so he would accept her decision. She couldn’t do it on her own!
‘Tim!’ she called out. It became impossible to hold back the tears. ‘Tim, please!’ She stepped in his path and pressed her fists against his chest. ‘I don’t want to suffer! I’m not strong enough for that!’ Her sobs shook her body, and she clung onto him. ‘Please, don’t ask me to!’
* * *
‘During those weeks when you were feeling quite well, I found it extremely hard to understand you,’ Lauren’s mom Celeste confessed. ‘We loved you too much to even allow in the idea of death or dying. Talking to you about that was the hardest thing.’ Celeste’s voice was shaking, and again she reached for her tissue. Peter put an arm around his wife, trying to comfort her. This night by the lake was difficult for her, but he understood why she wanted to stay.
‘But it’s not our decision to make, darling,’ he tried to appease her. ‘It’s Lauren’s life. We’re going to be there for her when she needs us. Which is what we’ve always done – and it’s all we can do now.’
Feeling grateful, Lauren smiled at her parents. She found it impossible to imagine how hard it was for them to see their own child having to face something like this. It had to be the hardest thing they ever had to do.
She snuggled up to Tim, seeking solace.
‘I was really selfish then. I was only thinking of myself,’ Tim admitted haltingly. ‘I was only thinking about how much I didn’t want to lose you: not sooner than necessary.’ He took her hand and raised it up to his lips. Lauren’s fingers felt cold in his, and he massaged them to get them warmed up. Then he kissed the tips of her fingers and looked into her green eyes.
Those were the brave eyes of a brave woman. His woman. His wife.
‘But when you started getting worse, I understood what it meant for you to suffer. And that you would suffer even more – because of me. And I didn’t want that,’ he declared in a steady voice. ‘I could never live with myself knowing that I caused you pain and suffering, Lauren.’
Lauren’s Decision
Tim found it hard to wrap his head around Lauren’s plans for an assisted death. It seemed all but impossible to voluntarily lay down one’s life. How could you even work up the courage to make such a choice? Was it really the easier option? For Lauren – and for her family too?
He rinsed the lettuce in the sink and proceeded to fish each salad leaf from the water.
Lauren was standing by the stove, humming a song. She smiled a happy smile. Toda
y was a good day. At last! She’d had five seizures during the past two days. He was glad that she could only dimly remember those events. She had barely been responsive during each, failing to recognize both him and Celeste after her mother had arrived to help them through it. Alyssa had cried all night while Lauren kept screaming in pain again and again. Those were two very difficult days for the family, and today they all breathed a little easier.
Tim operated the salad spinner with new-found energy and added the now dry leaves to the yoghurt dressing.
Then he walked over to Lauren by the stove, peeking over her shoulder and into the saucepan. Meatballs were swimming in their spicy sauce, and fragrant Basmati rice was sitting in its bowl, steaming, and waiting to be served.
‘Salad’s ready,’ he mumbled into her ear and kissed the side of her neck.
‘So is the rest.’
Lauren turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her smile was blissful and her breathing was calm, but in her eyes Tim could see that there was something on her mind.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, worried.
‘Do you love me enough, Tim, to let me go when things get worse?’ she asked gravely.
‘Are you talking about your seizures?’
‘Of course. And about my body, Tim. Don’t tell me you don’t notice the changes. I’ve put on eight or nine pounds – which isn’t bad considering I lost all that weight before, but this . . .’ She motioned toward her swollen feet . . . this is water retention. I’ve got it in my legs and in my hands.’ She tried to pull her wedding band off her finger as a way of proving her point.
‘Do you need water retention pills? Do you want me to call Doctor Eckhard?’