Another Way to Fall

by Brooke, Amanda

‘If you say so,’ Ben said but he didn’t sound convinced.

  When he perched himself on the bed next to Emma, there was no hint of awkwardness between them. Ben knew her like no other.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Emma said. ‘So have you finished with your confessions or is there anything else I should know?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘No, only that I love you.’

  ‘Good, because I love you too,’ Emma replied and despite the morphine, her heart raced. Ben’s eyes were glistening and Emma was determined not to let his tears fall. She kissed him again.

  The door to her hospital room opened with an unnecessary bang and Emma didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was. When she did look up, Meg was standing at the door, silhouetted in the bright lights from the corridor beyond. She looked small and Emma wondered how such a tiny frame could have towered over her life for so long. Emma was torn between trying to escape her mother’s control and wanting to rescue Meg from the pain that consumed her and smothered Emma. She released Ben but held on tightly to his hand. ‘Stay,’ she whispered to him.

  ‘You’re in early,’ Meg said to Ben. She seemed reluctant to go closer to the couple, moving instead towards the window. ‘Do you want to see if you can stand a little light in the room, sweetheart?’

  ‘Just a little,’ Emma replied. She felt bubbles of anxiety starting to build in the pit of her stomach but it wasn’t the fear of bringing light into the room, Emma was preparing herself for what she would say next. ‘When am I due to see Mr Spelling?’

  Light crawled slowly from beneath the blind as it was inched upwards. Emma could make out vague streaks of fresh raindrops slithering down the windowpane; they glimmered dimly in the grey light of dawn.

  ‘Tomorrow at eleven thirty, he said, but he has clinic first so don’t expect him before midday,’ Meg said in a singsong voice.

  ‘I want to see him alone.’

  Meg was still adjusting the blind, judging the amount of light being drawn into the room. ‘Is that OK? Not too bright?’

  ‘It’s fine, Mum. Did you hear what I said?’

  Meg turned and looked from Emma to Ben and then back to her daughter. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

  ‘No, we don’t need to talk about it,’ insisted Emma, her tone soft but firm. It was the exact same tone her mum had often used when Emma was a little girl.

  Meg waved her hand dismissively and the bubbles in Emma’s stomach started to fizz. ‘You need me with you,’ she said. ‘You won’t remember all the questions let alone the answers.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory,’ Emma reminded her. It was one of the few symptoms that Emma had avoided this time around, so far at least. ‘I can manage. I insist.’

  Her words were left hanging in the air and it was Ben’s turn to shift uneasily. Emma gave him a small, apologetic smile as she let go of his hand, which he flexed painfully to encourage the blood flow.

  ‘I haven’t told Emma yet how everyone is helping out at the bistro,’ he said in an attempt to smooth over the tension.

  Meg smiled stiffly, taking her seat next to Emma’s bed. She was looking down at her lap, picking at an invisible piece of fluff on her skirt. ‘Jean and Iris are in their element by all accounts,’ she replied. There was no singsong tone to her voice any more and she sounded much further away than she ought to be.

  Emma felt the first sting of tears but she knew that if she didn’t hold her nerve, she may never be able to take control of her life. She swallowed hard and painted on a smile. ‘They’re helping at the bistro? How?’

  ‘They’re my latest apprentices, although if you saw them at work, you’d swear I was the new recruit,’ Ben said with a nervous laugh. ‘They’re already planning to introduce some of their own dishes. Give them a few more weeks and I could be out of a job.’

  ‘They told me to send you their love,’ added Meg. ‘Everyone does.’

  Emma smiled at her mum. ‘Tell them I’ll be back before they know it. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.’

  ‘We can ask Mr Spelling about that,’ began Meg but then she faltered as did her smile. She looked down at her lap again, took a breath and when she looked up, Emma knew Meg was seeing her daughter with new eyes. ‘You can ask him.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Emma said, reaching out her hand, which Meg took and squeezed fiercely.

  ‘It’s your life, your decisions. I know that.’

  Emma felt her chest expand as she took a breath and let her confidence build. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, her options were becoming limited but the decisions she would take from now on would be her own. No-one else would share the burden and that was exactly how she wanted it.

  Her meeting with Mr Spelling went as well as expected. He answered Emma’s questions as honestly as he could, something she had insisted on. Together they were able to form a clear and realistic view of the future so that she could plan accordingly.

  Mr Spelling had offered to stay around to give Emma some moral support when she shared the news but she had refused, knowing that her mum would only open up a debate with the doctor. She knew what needed to be said and who needed to hear it.

  Three faces stared back expectantly at Emma as she sat in her bed but no-one was ready to ask the question that was on everyone’s lips.

  ‘They were able to remove some of the new growth but the tumour isn’t going to go away,’ Emma began, knowing that she was doing precisely what she had asked Mr Spelling not to do. She was sugar-coating the prognosis but then she knew in many ways it was a harder pill for them to swallow. They would be carrying their grief far longer than she would. ‘In a few weeks I’m going to go ahead with the original treatment that was planned for me here. A combination of radiotherapy and chemotherapy that will slow the growth but won’t stop it.’

  ‘And the treatment in America?’ Meg asked.

  Emma hesitated before answering, knowing it was the last thread of hope her mum had been clinging onto. ‘Mr Spelling has had confirmation from Boston that I wouldn’t be able to start treatment in my current condition and once I’ve had radiotherapy here, then I would no longer be eligible for their programme.’

  ‘But there must be a way …’

  ‘Mum,’ Emma said. There was a note of authority in her voice and it cut through that last thread of hope. ‘I’ve agreed my treatment plan with Mr Spelling.’

  Meg was trembling and Louise put an arm around her shoulder as tenderly as she could manage, afraid that her mum would shatter into tiny pieces. ‘I won’t stop fighting, Emma. I won’t,’ Meg insisted. ‘I can find another clinic, another trial.’

  ‘Please,’ interrupted Emma. She had been planning exactly what she had to say and she hoped she had it word perfect. ‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting for me but what I’m asking you to do next is going to take a lot more courage. I don’t want you working all hours to pay for a treatment that isn’t going to happen. I don’t want a warrior woman who’s trying to take on the world to save her daughter; I just want my mum back. If you can do that for me, then you’ll have no regrets, not one.’

  A deathly silence followed and the only thing that Emma could hear was the thudding of her own heart. There was a dull ache behind her nose and for once she couldn’t blame her tumour, it was pressure from the torrent of tears she was holding back.

  Emma was exhausted and she bit down hard on her lip to rein in her emotions. She wasn’t the only one struggling but she knew that neither her mum nor her sister would crack, not unless Emma cracked first and she wasn’t prepared to do that. ‘Why don’t you go for a nice cuppa with Louise,’ she told her mum softly, ‘I wouldn’t mind some time on my own with Ben.’

  Meg left the room quietly under Louise’s gentle guidance. Emma pretended not to hear the howls of anguish that echoed down the corridor just before the door closed behind them.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Emma asked Ben.

  ‘You’re asking me?’ Ben whispered, rubbing hi
s face. He had sat as still as a statue, not saying a single word as the tragedy that was Emma’s life unfolded before him. She knew he was numb with shock and she felt renewed guilt for bringing him into her world.

  ‘I’d like to say this is as bad as it gets, but it’s going to get worse, Ben.’

  Emma looked away from him and smoothed the blanket over her legs, extending her hands across the width of the bed to claim her territory. She didn’t want Ben to join her on the bed; she could only say what needed to be said as long as she didn’t have to feel him next to her. She had to try one more time.

  ‘I need you to think very carefully about this,’ she began. The thud of her heart was almost deafening now. She had already played out this scene in her head, only in her mind’s eye, she was about to board a plane.

  The flight to Paris had been delayed. Perhaps if it hadn’t, things might have been different.

  We had spent days doing nothing except lying in each other’s arms, talking to each other, loving each other. The time we had was precious and we savoured every moment. I was about to resume my jet-setting lifestyle, two weeks before my thirty-fifth birthday. Ben had been insistent that I shouldn’t compromise my own dreams for his and we had both agreed that it would be better for him to remain at the cottage to start work on his business in earnest.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said, taking both my hands in his. We were standing beneath a flight-information board where the delay had just been announced. Tenderly, he began to kiss each of my fingers, stopping at the third finger of my left hand where a single diamond glinted. A self-satisfied smile appeared on his face.

  ‘You’ll be far too busy to notice I’m even gone,’ I told him.

  ‘I wish it was that simple. I’m going to be lost without you.’

  ‘You’ll find your way,’ I assured him.

  ‘I’ll be bereft,’ he insisted and it was his insistence that made me visualize what our future might look like, especially what Ben’s future might look like. The scenes that played out in my mind’s eye horrified me and I cursed my furtive imagination.

  I pulled my hands away from his as if an electric shock had passed between us.

  ‘Emma?’ he had asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I need you to think very carefully before you answer this,’ I began. ‘Is this how you pictured it? Finding the love of your life and then watching her fly away?’

  Ben seemed confused, uncertain about where I was leading and not sure he should follow. ‘I don’t understand, Emma. It’s not about how long we spend together it’s about making the most of the time we do have.’

  He was shaking his head, as if to deny what was happening before his very eyes. I had taken off my engagement ring. ‘I won’t let you do it, Ben. I won’t let you sacrifice your own happiness for mine.’

  Emma was struggling to catch her breath as she brought the scene to an end. She looked down at her left hand, which was shaking. There was no engagement ring but there never had been. She wasn’t standing in the middle of an airport, she was sitting in her hospital bed,

  She chanced a look in Ben’s direction and as soon as she met his eyes, she was captured by him. He reached over and took her hand, kissed her fingers, never taking his eyes off her. ‘I’m not sacrificing my happiness, can’t you see that? You are my happiness. Don’t condemn me to a life of regret, wishing I had spent more time with you.’

  ‘But you will spend the rest of your life wishing you’d had more time with me, that’s the point.’

  ‘All the more reason to spend as much time as I can with you now. It ends here, Emma,’ he said sternly. ‘If you really care about me then stop pushing me away.’

  ‘I do care. I love you.’

  ‘And I love you, with all my heart and soul. I’m here to stay, come what may.’

  It took Emma an immense amount of concentration to stop herself from floating away on a wave of euphoria. If she had still been on high-dose morphine she would have been unable to resist but she had Ben’s gaze to anchor her. ‘You do realize this means were going to get married, don’t you?’

  There was no gasp of shock as she had expected, only a mischievous smile. ‘Really?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep it in the realms of my imagination.’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to try too hard,’ he said.

  There were still so many thoughts and emotions that Emma had to wrestle with and even as her mind cleared of morphine, the constant interruption and invasion of her privacy left no place to withdraw to and no time to confront the consequences of the decisions she had made.

  Emma couldn’t wait to leave hospital but her recovery was slower this time and her return to fitness was not expected to be as complete. At least her sight was improving day by day. She cast her eyes over the collection of cards lined up on the window ledge, conveying good wishes and much love. Not one said get well soon. Even her father had been sensitive enough to avoid that platitude although his card remained in its envelope, along with a contribution to the treatment that was already being cancelled as he posted the card. Emma hadn’t had a chance to reply to his email and gave little thought of ever doing so; there were more important things to consider, if only her mind could focus for long enough.

  Above the line of cards, the window blind had been opened fully to reveal a wet and windy winter’s morning. Bare treetops exposed barren bird’s nests swaying precariously in the breeze. She was starting to fear that she would never see another spring.

  Before her mood was allowed to spiral into despair, there was a timely interruption as Peter appeared at her door.

  ‘I was starting to think you were avoiding me,’ she told him.

  Emma knew she had hit a raw nerve by his sheepish smile and her bruised and battered mind connected pieces of a puzzle she had almost forgotten.

  ‘It’s only a quick visit,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I’m up to speed with your treatment plan. If you have any questions now, or once you’ve been discharged, I can get you the answers.’

  ‘As always,’ Emma said with a half-concealed smile. ‘Here’s your first question then. Why would you be photographed at Bannister’s office party?’

  Peter’s cheeks reddened. ‘What photograph?’

  ‘A photo of Ally.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Care to elaborate?’

  Peter put his hands in his pockets and started kicking at an invisible spot on the linoleum floor. ‘Yes, I was there … with Ally.’

  ‘So why the secrecy? Even Gina hasn’t mentioned it. You have been avoiding me, haven’t you?’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you how pushy you are?’ he said with a note of exasperation in his voice.

  ‘All the time. So what is there to be embarrassed about? Ally wasn’t just a notch on your bedpost was she? A one-night stand?’ Emma asked, half joking but the punch line fell flat. ‘It was a one-night stand?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ Peter replied defensively. ‘I know I’m a terrible flirt but for the record, I don’t do that kind of thing.’

  ‘But for Ally, you made an exception?’

  Peter twisted his foot into the floor as he squirmed under Emma’s scrutiny. ‘I like Ally and under other circumstances I would have wanted to see more of her and I think she felt the same.’

  ‘But?’

  Peter stopped moving and looked up. ‘But you, Emma.’

  ‘Me?’ she asked. Her fractured mind briefly considered if Peter was about to confess his undying love but reassuringly, she hadn’t become that delusional.

  ‘You’re Ally’s best friend and she’s struggling. I wanted to comfort her but I’ve seen too much here. There’s no way I would be able to say anything that could put her mind at ease, I’d only make her feel worse. So I didn’t get back in touch with her and she didn’t phone me. I think we both thought it was for the best.’

  ‘Oh,’ Emma said guiltily. ‘I’m sorry, Peter.’<
br />
  He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it. There are worse things in life.’

  ‘Yes, there are but I’d like to think that if I can’t be there for my friends, I can at least make sure they have a shoulder to cry on. Do you think there might be a chance between you two?’

  ‘I would have liked things to have worked out differently but it really depends on Ally now.’

  Emma gave Peter a conspiratorial wink. ‘Leave it to me.’

  ‘Like I said, pushy,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Speaking of pushy, can you tell Sally Anne that I want to take a bath? She seems to think I’m not well enough.’

  Emma’s nurse took some persuading but Peter eventually convinced her that there was little point in arguing.

  Although Emma was looking forward to her first bath, she dreaded the part where Sally Anne had to help her to get into the bath. She felt self-conscious about her body now more than ever. Her skin was dry and sore from some of the drugs she was taking and she had put on a little more weight than she would have liked in the last couple of months thanks to the steroids.

  Sally Anne filled the bath with warm water and an emollient to moisturize her skin and Emma held back until the last minute before slipping off her robe and clambering into the steaming water.

  ‘I’ll leave you in peace but I’ll only be next door writing up my notes. Just make sure you don’t get your scalp wet or I’ll be in trouble,’ warned Sally Anne. ‘The alarm button’s there if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ answered Emma as she sat scrunched up in the bath to hide her embarrassment.

  It was only when the door closed that Emma began to relax. She slipped deeper into the water. The rain was beating against the frosted window and a storm was raging but Emma felt cocooned in the bathwater, which soothed and warmed her. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment longer to savour the peace before forcing herself to think about the future.

  She waved her hand through the water, feeling its resistance against her palm and listening to the ripples radiate outwards and hit the side of the bath. The residue of morphine in her system provided its own resistance as she tried to focus her mind. Drawing strength from within, Emma sat up again and dipped a cloth in the water before placing it over her face. She let the water trickle slowly downwards, tickling her cheeks before dripping off her chin and softly falling into the water where new ripples caused the surface of the water to tremble.