The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer

by Leeann Whitaker

  “Leave us,” Grayson snaps.

  “Sir,” the nurse warns.

  “I said leave!”

  I inhale and make my way to his bed. My fingers reach out and curl around his moist cool hand as I sit. I swallow and peer up at the annoyed nurse stood by my side.

  “Just give us a few minutes,” I ask politely.

  She huffs then marches to the door, gesturing the other nurse to follow.

  I gulp, noticing the machinery around the bed flashing and beeping. I glance to my side to see his life-line journeying across a screen, and the thought of it suddenly becoming flat terrifies me. A blood pressure cuff is attached around his bicep, swelling and deflating loudly, so his reading flashes in my face. In the crease of his elbow is a white blood stained band aid. And across the bed stands a drip, pumping the contents of two different bags into his veins through an intravenous: one blood, and the other glucose.

  “You saw me on the news didn’t you,” he gripes, dropping back onto his pillow. “Can’t even be ill in private. The damn Crane name will bury me.”

  I stay quiet in fear that if I do speak, I’ll blubber, and right now that is the last thing he needs to be worried over. He props himself up on his elbows and gazes at me with tapered eyes.

  “I’m fine Jen… just a small set back.” That’s Grayson, more interested in my feelings than his own. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve seen Jenkins.” He squeezes my fingers in reassurance. “I told you I’m going to fight.”

  “Then you need to let the professionals do their job,” I sigh.

  Riled, he plunges back down onto his pillows again as his pupils roll back in his head.

  “There are things I am unwilling to do,” he grumbles. “And sticking a tube up my manhood is one of them. I’m still capable of going to the bathroom on my own.” He pouts with wide eyes.

  I shake my head and grin when the machine on the drip stand begins to beep. I freak-out, fearing it’s some kind of warning bell to indicate a problem. Grayson releases my hand and arches over calmly. He presses a button on the green pad so the noise stops. I grab his forearm and pull. He shouldn’t be messing with the stuff that’s supposed to be helping him.

  “Grayson!”

  “Stop fretting.” He lies down. “It’s just an empty bag.”

  “Yes but surely…”

  “Jen, do you have any idea how many times I’ve been hooked up like Frankenstein to these things?” A stream of air jets from his nostrils. “More than I care to count. And I’m not going to wait until the nurses have finished their coffee to switch the stupid thing off.”

  I lean back and try to relax more. “What happened in the park?” I ask. “Have they told you what made you collapse?”

  “No… probably stress. Nothing to worry about.” He fidgets, irritated by the wires. “And this damn thing,” he yanks out his oxygen tube.

  “You really are the worst kind of patient,” I snap. “Stop messing.”

  “Well, I’m going to do things my way this time.”

  There’s a knock on the door as it opens up. I turn to see a young doctor with jet black hair and olive skin. He’s holding a beige folder, and his fingers seem to find the need to tap over and over on the card. He loiters in thought.

  “Jenkins,” Grayson says in a high tone. “You took your time,” he whines, shuffling upright. “Let’s get this done, then I can get out of here.”

  I’m compelled to hold Grayson’s hand again. I’ve seen it in the past; the same expression displayed on the face of the bearer of bad news. I know it well, and it immediately instigates a dark dread.

  “Would you like me to invite your father in, Mr. Crane?” he enquires in a serious tone.

  “Hell no.”

  Grayson swoops his legs off the bed and the ties of his gown fall open. He tugs it back over his bare shoulder while muttering in anger.

  “And Jenkins, while I was out for the count, was it really necessary to remove my underwear,” he barks. “I mean come on.”

  I remove my hand from his and rub my eyes. He’s being impossible, and now he’s trying to stand up. I exhale and pull on his arm, as he begins to pluck off the electrodes that are stuck on his chest. The machine beeps loudly and flashes red. Jenkins hurries over and switches it off.

  “Mr. Crane, will you sit down,” Jenkins shouts.

  “Jenkins… I have agreed to start a second round of chemo, but I am not staying on this shit death ward.”

  Jenkins nods then opens the folder. “I’m afraid it may be too late for that, Grayson. With the stem cell transplant you had not having the desired effect, and the fluctuations in your bloods,” he hesitates. “I’m unsure it will be of any use to you now.” He looks at the papers inside the folder.

  Grayson drops down onto the bed. A great cloak of desolation has zapped all hope from the room, and from me. I breathe rapidly as my heart flutters, creating an emptiness inside my chest. I take Grayson’s hand, watching through tears as the color drains from his face. I need it to stop. I don’t want to hear any more bad news.

  Grayson closes his eyes and hangs his head low. I quickly stand and sit on the bed beside him, realizing he needs some support.

  “I’m sorry, Grayson.” Jenkins inhales deeply. “Your results show abnormal cells in your liver and kidneys, and your MRI also shows legions on both…. your spleen is also enlarged.”

  “Don’t sugar-coat it will you,” Grayson mumbles.

  Now my tears rush out in full. Though, I remain silent because I don’t want him to see my distress.

  “Okay, how long?” he asks.

  I look away to the window with my eyes closed. I don’t want to know timelines. I can’t even comprehend that the man I’m holding onto right now will die.

  “Six weeks… tops. But we can still try the treatment, it may prolong your time.” Jenkins throws me a life-line of hope. “But you know the chemo has bad side-effects for you.” Life-line, gone.

  “Percentage for an extra month?” Grayson asks.

  “Less than five,” Jenkins admits. “And you know what you’ll have to go through to get that.”

  I’ve never seen him shed a tear, and now I can see one travelling down his cheek. I rest my head against his bicep. His hand glides around my back and up to my neck to hold me closer.

  “I’m so sorry, Grayson,” Jenkins says. “I will leave you alone for a while.”

  Jenkins closes the door and I can feel the shaking fear in Grayson’s body. It’s awful, gut-wrenching, and hopeless. I’ve fallen in love with him, and now I have come to terms with the darkness I’ve been trying to forget. The wall of denial was the one thing we both shared, and now it’s come tumbling down around us.

  “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks.

  I look up into his tear glazed eyes and place my fingers on his cheek. “For?”

  “For pursuing you, when death pursues me.” He props his forehead on mine.

  “Never say that again.” I thread my arm around his back, and let my head snuggle into his neck.

  I’m going to do everything I can to extend what we are. No matter how short our time together is. It is what we do now that will always be ours, and even death can’t take that away.

  My Wishes

  The nurses are no longer trying to stick me with needles, or place tubes where they shouldn’t be. Now they are removing them, quietly. It’s strange. I’ve become suspended in a state of calm, and feel an air of monumental relief.

  Jen sits in the plastic chair with her body slumped over before the window. She doesn’t want to leave me in case I stop breathing. She’s exhausted, and her bloodshot swollen eyes are bothering me. As I look at her, I feel shameful for putting her through all this. I don’t want her here. Some things you just need to do alone.

  “Jen, go and get some rest… coffee… something,” I snap unintentionally as the nurse wheels the trolley full of bloody cotton buds, needles, and wires, outside.

  I take my blue jeans from
the base of the bed, thread them over my legs, and remove the unflattering hospital gown. I now have the daunting task of telling Henry and my father of my fate, and my endgame. Last thing I need is her sobbing in the corner.

  “How can you be okay about this, Grayson?” she snivels. “Will you talk to me?” she yells.

  Feeling a wave of guilt I crouch down before her. “I am, and I need to do this alone. You can go and live your life, Jen. I will never ever hold that against you.” I brush away her tears with my thumb. “I know what I’m doing, and I’ve been planning it for a long time. I just never realized it would become a reality.”

  Her dark brow wrinkles deep in fury. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going away,” I sigh. “I’m going to die the way I want to… and it would be better if we part ways here.”

  She pushes my arm away and glares. “Are you being serious?”

  I stand and walk to the window, to see the early morning stars across the light dusky blue sky. The kind of beauty I want to be surrounded by. No cars, no responsibilities, no rat-race. Just peace and quiet.

  “Jen, I should have stayed far away from you,” I say, looking down at her. “I won’t allow you to watch me die.”

  She stands and thrusts the chair across the floor as she jumps to her feet. I look over my shoulder and see her pure wrath.

  “You really are a selfish stubborn asshole,” she growls. “And yeah, you’re right, you should have stayed away.”

  “Please… don’t be like this.” My teeth lock down, realizing the pain I’ve caused.

  I turn to face her directly. I never wanted to hurt her. Now, I’m only trying to protect her. Not being with her will be hell, but so will my end, and I don’t want her remembering me that way.

  “It’s too damn late,” she cries. “You made me fall in love with you, and now you think you can call the shots on this,” she yells. “I can’t walk away. I have to be with you, Grayson!”

  “I’m sorry but...” I take her in my arms so her hair brushes against my bare chest. “I don’t want you to suffer over me. I don’t need to watch you grieve when I’m still here.”

  “I won’t let you do it alone… it’s not open for debate,” she says, squeezing my neck desperately. “I will hunt you down if you try.”

  “You’re impossible, Ms. Conner.” I grin and kiss her forehead, realizing she won’t back down. “Go and get a coffee… I’ve got to talk with Henry and my father.”

  She exhales and pulls away from me with a sniffle. “You don’t need me to stay?”

  “Not a good idea.” I grab my burgundy shirt from the bed and slip my arms through.

  She pecks my lips, sweeps her hand over my face with a frustrated breath, and leaves me fastening the buttons on my shirt.

  The problem I have with this is not my father, but Henry. I’ve been with that man one way or another, throughout my life. He’s been the one who has advised me. Pulled me through some pretty rough times. And has always been loyal without fault.

  Henry enters first, then my father, who clearly would rather be somewhere else.

  “Why are you dressed?” he asks, sharp as always. “And why do you insist on that girl knowing more about your health, than your own flesh and blood?”

  Yep, I envisaged those words coming from his caustic lips. He wouldn’t even dream of asking me how I am. His purpose toward me has always been simple: I am to do as he says, and not question or argue. I am not to show any kind of emotion, because that would be seen weak. I’ve never really been his son. I was intended as a mini clone of himself. Same upbringing. Same education. But in all departments I have always been a disappointment. I used to hate him, but now I pity him. I have felt more love with Jen than what he has in a lifetime. He can’t help being cold, and I do forgive him.

  “Because I’m leaving,” I calmly say. “And I wanted Jen here with me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to spend what time I have left, doing things the way I want,” I say.

  Father’s lip quivers. It’s a sight of such rarity, it knocks me for six. I turn to Henry. He sits down in the chair by the door rubbing his head. Even though his reaction was expected, I’m finding it hard to be strong and not fall to pieces.

  “Why didn’t Jenkins tell me what the hell is going on?” my father frantically paces. “I give a substantial donation to this hospital every month. I have the right to know, to have a say in this, Grayson.”

  I have never done this, shown warmth to my father, but now my feet move cautiously toward him. My soul is wheedling me to do the right thing; to be tolerant of his detached existence.

  I press my hand down on his shoulder, and he stops dead in his tracks with a tear rolling from his eye. Unexpectedly, he pulls me close into his rigid body and pats my back. He takes a step back, but is finding it impossible to speak.

  “Dad… it’s okay.” He declines his head, snivels, and hurries outside, unable to handle this sentimental goodbye.

  My view remains on the window. It would have been much easier if he had stayed. Now I have to face Henry, alone. The most veiled emotional man I know. I can hear it in his breathing, his upset, and the moment I do look at him, I know I’ll crumble.

  “So,” he says as my eyes automatically close. “How long?”

  Still, I can’t move my neck to face him. “You know Henry… not long enough.”

  I hear him walk to me. My eyelids remain fused together as his hand takes ahold of my forearm.

  “Grayson.” His arms give me that paternal embrace I’ve always missed out on.

  “Now you call me Grayson,” I smirk.

  He sniffs and draws away from me. “Whatever you need,” he says, all choked up.

  “Stop crying for a start, Henry.” I blow out, trying to keep my cool. “I’m going to my summerhouse. And I want to do this alone.”

  “Jen?” he enquires.

  I laugh lightly. “Yeah, well, she’s not as receptive to the idea.”

  “And why should she be,” he nearly yells. “Wild horses couldn’t stop her… not now.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware,” I sigh. “She’s already stated that fact to me,” I grumble.

  “You know about her parents,” he snivels. “She’ll need to be with you… for closure.”

  “I know.” I expel air in regret, knowing that my mistakes in chasing her, will cause her misery. “Henry, I love her, and I can’t let her do this.” I gulp down, forcing a tear to stay inside.

  “Son,” he breathes out. “Love isn’t just roses, sex, and skipping in the sunshine. It’s also dark and painful at times. If she feels the same way about you, you won’t be able to keep her away.”

  “I know.” My fingers grab hold of the window frame and squeeze.

  “Do you want me to start finalizing?” He blows his nose into a tissue. “Your documents?”

  “Yes, and there are also some new matters in my safe that need to be distributed accordingly, after I’ve, well… you know.”

  The door opens and Jen enters, holding two coffees. She looks at Henry and he squeezes her arm supportively before he goes. She dips her head for a second, then holds out one of the cups to me.

  “Coffee,” she grins, faint.

  I take the steaming card cup. “Jen.” Her weary eyes focus up on mine. “You don’t need to do this.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “You’re impossible… you do know that?”

  I take her cup along with mine, and set them down on the window ledge. I take her in my arms and hold her before the framed orange glow of sunrise. I’m present, but not. I don’t yet know how I’m supposed to feel.

  Journey of his Life

  For thirty minutes I’ve been in here, retching, crying, and retching some more. My bag is packed, waiting out on the landing for me. And Flick is getting ready to go and stay with Henry and his family. All this preparation for the worst situation I’ve ever been in, has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced. I
don’t want to prepare for it, or think of it. It’s as though this is some planned vacation, in which everyone has a job to do. How is that normal?

  “Jen,” Flick yells as I hug the toilet bowl on my knees. “I’m coming in.” She opens the door and hovers in the doorway as I sluggishly turn my head. “Jen, do you need a doctor?”

  I use all my strength to push my body up to sit on the bathmat. “No… I’m fine.”

  “Jen, let me help you.” She holds onto my elbow and helps me up to my feet.

  “You’ve not eaten, have you?” she asks, as I look at my pasty drained face in the bathroom mirror. “Do you want me to fix you something before we go?”

  “No Flick!” Her body moves back at my crabby outburst. “Sorry Flick… I just… I…”

  “I know Jen… it’s all gone wrong.” She hugs me and begins to cry on my shoulder.

  I inhale and gather the control to stop my tears. She, like I, has been through enough in her life. And now, I’m putting her through this. The last thing I deserve, or need, is her worrying about me. I’m supposed to be the responsible one here. I’m the one who is supposed to clear out the trash, so our lives remain hassle free. But all I seem to be doing is cluttering things up even more. My feelings for Grayson overpower everything else, and I can’t stop that now.

  “Flick, are you sure you’re going to be okay staying with Henry?”

  She wipes her face and beams. “Are you kidding, have you seen his house,” she chirps. “He has a freaking swimming pool in his yard. And well his son, Luke, he’s kind of cute.”

  “Flick,” I groan.

  “Don’t worry… I’m going to be on my best behavior,” she says.

  My cell vibrates on the side of the bathtub. My heart drops a beat and I can’t move. Flick shuffles around me and picks it up. Her eyes view the screen then peer at me. I know it’s time, but don’t want to hear it. She swipes the screen and holds the phone to her ear to listen.

  She exhales. “Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,” she hangs up. “They’re waiting outside.”