Too weird. The whole needle-in-the-brain thing. I don’t want to think about it. But I can’t help it.
Yeah, me too.
What if the anaesthetic doesn’t work and I feel it?
You’ll be able to sue them for a million bucks?
Funny.
I check the time. It’s three am and I need to sleep.
I’ve got to crash, I write. Goodnight, Tai.
Goodnight, you.
• • •
Tai gets admitted to hospital early that morning, and I take a detour on my way to school to see him before he goes into surgery. At the bus stop I watch the school bus drive past, then step onto the next one that pulls up – the one that goes in the other direction, to the hospital. The building is all concrete and metal from the outside. Inside, the air smells of both disinfectant and decay.
I’m trying to be sneaky and quiet, certain that he’s only supposed to have immediate family visiting, ready to lie my bum off if anyone asks. He’s told me he’s in the surgical ward, and I’m peeking into the rooms as I walk past, looking for him. When I finally find his name written above a bed, I’m sure they’ve got it wrong at first, until I look closer and see that the person in it really is Tai.
There’s a drip in his hand and something running from his chest to a machine. His hair looks normal, until he turns towards me and I see that one side has been shaved. Tai catches me staring.
‘I know. I look like shit, right?’
‘No . . .’ I’m not quite sure what to tell him. In the bed, with the hospital gown on, hooked up to machines, his hair half gone . . . he looks sick.
Mia comes in with a cup of takeaway coffee in her hand.
‘I just spoke to your dad,’ she says. ‘He’ll be here as soon as— Oh, hi Juliet. I wasn’t expecting you.’
Her face looks pale and drawn.
‘I was on my way to school,’ I say. ‘I’ll see you later, Tai.’ I want to kiss him, but not in front of Mia, so I just do a little wave.
I’m in English when my phone vibrates. When I’m sure the teacher isn’t looking I check the message. It’s from Mia, telling me Tai is sleeping and the surgery went well. Whatever that means. Tai’s got to stay in hospital for a few days for observation.
• • •
When I visit the next day after school Tai’s all doped up on painkillers. His dad is sitting in the chair beside the bed but he stands up when he sees me and gives me a hug. ‘Tai’s asleep,’ he tells me.
I hang around for a little while, but when it seems like Tai’s not going to wake up any time soon I go home to work on some assignments and chat to the girls online. It’s like being in a strange kind of limbo. There’s nothing to do but wait for the results.
When the hospital eventually clears him to come back to school, Mia lets him have the time off. So I catch the bus by myself in the mornings, and though I don’t sit alone in the classes we share I still notice that he’s missing. It’s downright weird, like I’m living life as usual – but without Tai. It’s kind of like a dream, where you know you’re dreaming because you know that your real life isn’t quite like this.
I start visiting Tai in the evenings when his parents are busy clearing up from dinner and trying to get River and Hendrix into baths and bed. He’s always waiting for me, wearing a smile and a funky-looking hat that covers the shaved bit of his head. Mostly, we just sit together, sharing more music than conversation, but it’s not awkward like it could be.
Tai
The biopsy wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be – it’s the waiting afterwards that sucks. I feel too edgy to go back to school, so I just hang out at home, counting down the days until I get the results. I sleep in, go to the beach, and watch TV . . . and I don’t enjoy any of it, really; I just feel like I’m passing time. Everything revolves around the next doctor’s appointment.
The only thing I look forward to is Juliet coming over. We sit in my room and she’ll tell me about a fight with her mum, or something that Gen did – like piercing her own bellybutton. Sometimes she pulls a pen out of her bag and draws on body parts that, according to Mum, should be covered by clothes. Most nights we just listen to music on my iPod, curled up together on the bed, or on the lounge if my olds are paying attention.
Once she’s gone, and everyone’s asleep, I lie in bed, trying to sleep, trying to stop obsessing over the result of the biopsy.
Sometimes I dream that I’m back in the hospital and a bunch of doctors come in and stand around the bed, looking over their clipboards at me. ‘He’s dead,’ they say. ‘He’s definitely dead.’
But I’m not dead, not really – it’s just that the drugs coming through the drip have paralysed me and I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even blink at them.
They wheel me off down the hallway, into an elevator, and we go down, down, down. Eventually the doors ping open and I know we’re in the hospital morgue. Then they slide me into a body bag, and zip it up. I can hear the sound of their footsteps retreating as I lie there suffocated by darkness.
I wake up gasping for breath, and it takes me a long time to get back to sleep.
On the nights when I have that nightmare I always sleep in late. One morning Mum tells me off for being lazy, and I mutter, ‘I’m not lazy. I couldn’t sleep, and I had a bad dream.’
That stops her and she sits on the bed, looking worried. ‘Bad dream? About what?’
I can’t tell her – it would freak her out – so I just say I don’t remember.
August
Juliet
On the day Tai is due to get his results I refuse to go to school, telling Mum I’m going with Tai instead. Mum says I can’t – at least not until she’s rung Mia to ask if it’s okay or if they’d rather I didn’t. I hadn’t even thought of that.
I pace around the kitchen while Mum makes the call. When she’s hung up she says, ‘You need to get to their house by ten. Ring me at work when you’ve got the results, okay?’
When I get to Tai’s, everyone’s practically buzzing with nervous optimism. There’s talk of going out for lunch afterwards, and it feels like a good sign.
Tai kisses me hello then drops his head onto my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him. I can feel his heart racing and I know even as I ask it that he’s more worried than he’ll let on.
‘You okay, Tai?’
‘Yeah. No. I just can’t wait till it’s over.’
Stanley appears in the hallway. ‘Let’s go, lovebirds.’
• • •
I sit in the waiting room while Tai and his parents go into the doctor’s office. The doctor is this old guy with a craggy face and mustard stains on his shirt, and it makes me wonder. This is the guy? This is the one who’s examined bits of Tai’s brain? This old guy is the one we’re all relying on? Fuck. I skim the pages of months-old magazines, trying not to look at my watch every two seconds.
Ten minutes goes by, then twenty, then it’s half an hour.
There’s a strange feeling in my stomach like I need to be sick. I wish my mum was with me.
When the door finally opens I’m not quite sure what I was expecting to see. Smiles, maybe – Tai looking jubilant. But they’re crying, all three of them. Tai is looking stunned and Mia and Stanley are holding his arms. No.
I stand back, feeling like I’m intruding on something I shouldn’t be a part of.
‘Tai?’
Tai can’t look at me. He slowly, sadly, shakes his head.
And then I’m crying too.
Tai
It’s a joke, it has to be, a fucking joke. But it isn’t. The doctor uses words I don’t understand, technical terms to describe the tumour I still can’t quite believe I have. I look to Mum for an explanation but she’s glaring at the doctor, angry. ‘What do you mean, inoperable?’ she demands.
‘The type of tumour Tai has is malignant and aggressive, and the location of it near the brain stem . . .’ He stares down at his papers, like he can’t meet our eyes. ‘I’m
sorry, I really am.’
I feel like all the air has gone out of the room. ‘So I’m . . . dying?’
Mum bursts into tears.
The doctor looks straight at me now. ‘There are operations we can do, medication we can give you, Tai, but they will only be to make you more comfortable. We can’t fix it. I’m sorry, Tai.’
My head is spinning and it’s like I’m watching myself taking it in, watching Mum sobbing into her hands, seeing Dad cry for the first time since the dog he had for twelve years died. I touch my cheek and am surprised to find it’s wet.
‘You have to be able to do something,’ Mum yells at the doctor.
‘We can operate,’ he explains again, ‘but due to the location of the tumour so close to the brain stem it would be impossible to remove it all. And what we do remove will grow back. I wish I had a simple solution for you, but I don’t. In terms of the treatment plan, in most cases like this we’re looking at surgery, four cycles of chemotherapy, another surgery and then radiation.’
There’s more. He keeps talking about alleviating the symptoms and pain management plans but my broken brain has stuck on the words, we can’t fix it. There’s a silence and I realise the doctor is looking at me, waiting. ‘Sorry?’
‘Do you have any questions at this point, Tai?’
‘How long?’ I stare, and he looks away.
‘Depending on how you go with the treatment, hopefully several months, but I’m afraid it’s an aggressive type of cancer, so probably no more than a year.’
A year. One year. You’re dying, Tai. A year, Tai. You’re fucked, Tai.
Mum grips my hand so hard it hurts. Dad’s face has crumpled into itself as the tears slide down his cheeks, wetting the collar of his shirt. I haven’t cried in public since I was six and now I can’t stop. I was hardly even sick and now I’m dying? How does that work? I wipe my face on the sleeve of my jumper but it makes no difference – the tears keep coming. Dad rests his hand on my shoulder and I wait for him to say something reassuring, but he doesn’t. The doctor fills the silence, talking to Mum and Dad about scheduling the next appointment, about counselling referrals, about what symptoms to look out for, but I can only hold one thought and that’s the big one: I’m dying.
We walk out of the doctor’s room together, Mum gripping one arm, Dad the other. I can barely meet Juliet’s eyes.
‘Tai?’ She’s quiet, almost whispering, as if she doesn’t want the answer, not really, as if she already knows. I nod, not looking at her, not in the eyes.
On the way to the car, on the way home, everyone is clutching at me, as if they all have to be touching me somehow. They cry on me, link their fingers through mine, pull on my arm, touch my shirt, my hair . . . I wish they wouldn’t. When we finally get home I shrug them all off and go straight to my room, locking the door behind me. Mum’s there almost immediately, knocking.
‘Tai? Can I come in?’
‘Mum, I just need some . . . time,’ I tell her. ‘Alone.’
‘Okay.’ It’s hesitant. ‘I’ll be in my room if you feel like talking, okay? Or even if you just want some company. Or some toast. Or something.’
I don’t. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to be alone, turning my iPod up louder and louder until I can’t hear myself cry anymore. I lie on the bed, waiting for it to make sense, waiting for it to sink in, but it doesn’t. My head’s pounding and the room seems too small. I want to run to the beach, swim until my lungs are ready to explode and I’m too tired to go against the waves anymore. But the second I leave the room they’ll be all over me again, suffocating me. I’m pacing back and forth, trying to fucking think, trying not to fucking think, and my phone beeps, two, three, four times. I reach out, knock it off the desk, and it falls onto the floor, falls apart. I turn up the volume on my iPod, louder, louder, slamming my pillow over my face, screaming into it.
This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real.
Juliet
When Mum comes home from work I’m still weeping. Evidently, my appearance doesn’t tell her enough because she says, ‘You were meant to call me after the appointment. How did it go?’ And then I have to say aloud the words that have been rattling around in my brain all afternoon.
‘Tai’s dying.’
Mum sits on my bed for a long time that night, stroking my hair as I sob. Hours after she’s gone to bed, I’m still awake, my mind teeming with questions. How? And when? Will he get sick first? What will it be like, when he dies? And how the fuck are we all meant to carry on afterwards?
The next morning I wake late, my eyes gritty and sore. I’m vaguely aware of Mum talking on the phone, saying things like malignant tumour and such a shock. I stay under the shower till there’s no more hot water, then stand in front of the mirror and start slathering on eyeliner.
Mum stands behind me and watches.
‘I called the school, sweetheart. Mia had already rung them about Tai, but I think you need to have this week off.’
‘Um. Okay. What did they say?’
Mum’s face collapses. ‘They said they’re really sorry.’
My breathing is short and shaky now, like I’ve forgotten how, and I put down the eyeliner.
When I’ve finished dressing I call out to Mum, ‘I’m going to Tai’s.’
• • •
Tai’s house is strangely quiet. I knock before letting myself in, and find Mia alone at the kitchen table. She starts when she sees me.
‘Oh, Juliet, I didn’t hear you.’
‘Sorry – I did knock. It’s so quiet in here. Nothing’s happened, has it?’
‘Not since yesterday.’ It’s meant to be wry and ironic but it’s not.
‘I just wanted to see Tai.’
Mia shakes her head. ‘I don’t think so, Juliet. Tai doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now. You can go and knock on his door, though. You never know.’
I walk down the hall to stand at his door and knock, feeling both anxious and absurd. ‘Tai? It’s me. Do you want some company?’
‘No.’ It’s flat, and the rejection hits me like a hard ball in the stomach.
‘Oh. That’s okay. Can I come in and ignore you then?’
There’s a pause, and I think he’s going to let me in, but he says quietly, ‘I just really want to be alone.’
I trudge back down the hall, and though I’ve promised myself I won’t cry, I’m close to it. Mia says gently, ‘Don’t take it personally, Juliet.’ Yeah. Okay.
• • •
I spend the rest of the day in bed, but when there’s a knock on my bedroom door that afternoon I leap up, sure it must be Tai. ‘Oh. It’s you,’ I say when Gen sticks her head around the door.
‘Thanks. What’s wrong with me?’
‘Nothing. Sorry. I thought you were Tai.’
Gen sits on the end of my bed and tucks her legs under her. ‘Want to tell me about it?’
‘I went to Tai’s today, and he didn’t want to see me. At all. Like, wouldn’t even let me in his room.’
‘Did you guys have a fight or something?’
Oh god. Gen doesn’t know. And I’m going to have to say it aloud. Again.
‘Nah, it’s just – you know that biopsy he had? Well he got the results yesterday, and it’s bad, Gen, it’s so bad, and . . .’ I can’t finish.
Gen reaches out to take my hand.
‘He’s dying, Gen.’
Gen puts a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Juliet – oh no . . .’ She wraps her arms around me, and we cry.
When we’ve cried ourselves dry, Gen sets about fixing the mascara explosion on my face.
‘It’s just so wrong,’ I say. ‘It’s so fucking wrong.’
She thinks for a minute. ‘It is. But, Juliet, we’re all dying. He just happens to have a prediction about it, you know? Do you really want to be like everyone else, making him feel like he’s at his own funeral for the next few months, watching you fall apart? He’s going to need
you – and he’ll need you to love him like he’s still alive.’
• • •
The next afternoon I go over to Tai’s and tap at his bedroom door. When he refuses to let me in, I sit there on the carpet, staring at my shoes. Mia fusses around me, asking if I’ve had something to eat. She brings one of Tai’s favourite foods, and I announce to him what I’m eating. Still silence. I pull a notebook from my schoolbag, find a pen, and write a note to him before sliding it under the door. Still nothing. I shift to get more comfortable, my back against Tai’s door, and turn my iPod on.
Frustrated, I yell out, ‘I can smell your breath from here, Tai.’ Because of the music in my ears I don’t hear him coming to the door, and fall backwards onto the carpet when he opens it.
He looks down at me. ‘Is that right?’ he says, and although his voice is sad and tired there’s a spark in there, too.
‘Yeah, that’s right. You might want to consider some gum. And a shower.’
He smiles, sniffing at his underarms, making a face for my amusement.
‘I guess a shower is probably in order,’ he admits.
While he’s in the bathroom, Mia, bristling with excitement, orders Stanley to go and pick up the ingredients for apricot chicken. She whips around Tai’s room, changing sheets and picking up socks and opening the window to air out the Teenage Boy Smell.
By the time Tai’s scrubbed his teeth and sprayed on what smells like a whole can of deodorant, Mia’s bustling around in the kitchen. I’m beginning to think I’ll get a second alone with him when Hendrix and River come barrelling at him. As they drag him down the hallway he looks over his shoulder and mouths, ‘Beach walk later?’
While he’s playing with his little brothers, I watch him when I think he’s not looking, expecting him to look different. And he’s paler, sure, but mostly he just looks like Tai.
After dinner we walk down to the beach. It’s so cold my fingers turn numb, but I don’t care. We make our way right down to the water and sit together on the sand. I slide my fingers under his jumper, under his shirt, to where I can feel his chest rising and falling with his breathing.
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