by Belle Brooks
Mum sighs initially. “Well, I guess Will’s doing what research he can so he knows what’s to come. After all he is in the primary position of support and care for you.”
“But I want him to lie with me and trace my skin. I want Will to touch my stomach and play with my hair. Why isn’t he touching me, Mum?” Anger starts to whirl in my tone.
“He’s scared, May-Day. He needs time to adjust. May, talk to him. You two have always been able to talk about anything and everything…since you were only kids.”
“Are you mad at me?” My voice trembles.
Without a second passing, Mum bursts into a flurry of tears. They are not soft falling tears, or slow leaking. They are heavy tears that travel over her lips, which fall open before delivering an agonising sound. Watching Mum’s breath get caught in her throat as she struggles to claim air brings a realisation…the ones I love are already grieving. Does this mean I’m also grieving?
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry I’m defective, Mum,” I cry quietly before she throws her hands over my body, laying her head between my arched shoulder blades.
“You’re not defective. Don’t say such a thing. I’m not mad, sweetheart. I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared, lost, and right now I’m feeling robbed. You’re my baby, Maybelline. My baby whom I gave life to. I’m supposed die before you. I would die to keep you alive for your child,” she cries, trying to regain some sort of composure through her sobs.
Now holding my mother in my arms, I rock slightly from side to side, in the way she has for me my entire life. “I need you to help Will, Mum. Please give my baby the life you gave me, okay? Promise me.”
“I promise,” she wails as both our tears fall completely out of control. We have avoided any talks like this for the last two weeks since our conference video with all the medical professionals—the people now in charge of hopefully keeping me alive long enough so I can deliver our child.
There is no way to remain calm as both our shirts dampen as we cling together in heartbreak, finally allowing our loss for many more years together to be extinguished.
I’m really going to die.
The sound of a clearing throat has us parting and swivelling our heads simultaneously in the direction of the sound.
“What happened?” Will’s arms are held out, as still as a statue.
“Just girl talk.” Mum stands quickly, wiping at her face. “I’ll let you two have some time.” Mum goes to leave, but before she takes more than a couple of steps away from the bed, Will asks for her to stop.
She complies.
“I need to talk to both of you. Your dad will be up in a minute. We have to tell you where we’ve been tonight and what we have learnt.”
Mum sits down at the foot of the bed.
I don’t move. What were they doing? “Tell me,” I speak softly.
Shifting from foot to foot, Will places his hand over his mouth briefly before moving it up his face and through his hair. “Okay, where do I start?” He’s frazzled and uncomfortable, yet there’s this air of certainty, maybe even excitement.
“Willard,” Mum voices with authority.
“Germany,” he announces.
“Germany.” Mum shrugs her shoulders.
“There’s this facility that has doctors who are researching Ewing’s Sarcoma and they have some new treatments they are trialling. Tonight, Cliff and I went to a video conference with these doctors from Germany. May, they said they would like us to go there. They are going to see if you are a candidate for the trial.”
Mum leaps from the bed. The shocked gasp that accompanies this motion tells me that she too now has hope. “You’re kidding. Willard, this is fantastic.” Throwing her arms around Will’s neck has her almost strangling him before she steps back again, placing both her hands in gratitude over her own mouth.
“I know. I found this place on the Internet when I was researching. I had to give it a try, May. They got back to me much faster than I thought they would. So now we need to organise a few things here. First we should schedule the appointment there and of course, make sure our passports are up to date and book flights once we have a confirmed date. This is a chance, right?” He stares at me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
I don’t have one. Why am I not leaping from the bed? Why am I not elated right now?
“May, what are you thinking?”
“Huh?”
“What do you think? Should we go soon, yes?”
“Umm. Shouldn’t we talk to Doctor Brown and the team of doctors here first?”
“I have. I spoke to Doctor Brown this morning after I learnt of the conference call. He sat in as well. We did it at the medical centre. He said he doesn’t know much about the trial, but it is worth finding out what we can. The facility in Germany is very high-class and they have made progress with other diseases previously. This is what he told me. He also added we would have to do some more scans. Another CAT scan and some X-rays for starters, plus blood tests of course, and once completed they’ll send the results over to Germany. Doctor Brown can organise all of this—”
“Stop.” I hold my hand upright. “X-rays…CAT scans. I can’t do any of these things, Will. I’m pregnant. I can’t have these tests done. It’s bad for the baby.”
Will approaches timidly before sitting down on the bed beside me. “May, I know you’re not supposed to, but this may be a chance for you to have a long life with me. We must terminate the pregnancy before we go over, because it is against human rights laws to ever do these medical procedures—”
“Shut up!” I scream. “No!” I scream louder.
“May.” His head launches backwards.
I can tell from his glazed eyes he wasn’t expecting this reaction.
“Is it guaranteed, Will? If I become a murderer and kill this baby, am I one hundred percent going to live until I’m old…well, am I?”
Will shakes his head and when he finally stops, he flinches his jaw in anguish. “May, I want you…I need you. This is our chance to grow old together like we planned.”
“No,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You can’t ask me to do something like this if there is no guarantee I’ll be accepted. What if I die anyway? What if we do all this and I don’t get to grow old with you?”
“May, please,” Will begs, dropping to the floor in front of me before clambering to my pressed knees. Running his hands up and down my thighs, Will stares deeply into my eyes. “Please, Maybelline. I want you. Please.”
“No.” I know I spoke out loud, but I don’t hear myself say it.
There’s a long silence as our eyes fuse in a standoff.
“Willard, maybe you should give May a moment to take in what you’ve said and when she’s ready we’ll come out to the lounge room and talk about it some more.” Mum tries to cut the tension invading the room with her softly spoken interruption.
“May, if I give you space, we can talk more, right? If I allow you time, we can talk about Germany?”
“No. I’ve made my decision, Will. I’m sticking with it.” I’m brazen in my response. There is no magical cure. My heart whispers so.
With a drop of his head, Willard removes his hands from my legs and falls back until his bottom rests on his sneakers. “I can’t stay then,” he whispers, causing my heart to beat one intense thud.
“What?”
“You can’t ask me to watch you die. To give up and accept this. I’m not staying.” Standing has Will scuffing his shoes across the carpet, passing Mum with a loud sniff of air sounding from his nose. When he reaches the doorway, he twists his head over his shoulder, looking back to me with a determined scowl. “Goodbye, Maybelline.”
“What?” I yell, leaping from the bed with an immediate grimace from the instant pain shooting into my hip bone.
As quickly as Will disappears from my sight, my father fills it.
“Lexis, May, what is going on? Why is Will tearing down the hallway?”
“Daddy,” I howl, falling ag
ainst his unexpected chest when he moves close enough.
Enfolding his arms around my upper body, Dad holds me as he’s always done whenever I’ve needed him while growing up—firmly.
“Can someone tell me what in the world is going on?” Tension fills his worried tone.
“Willard told her about Germany,” Mum chokes out with an obvious fear laced in her words.
“It’s good news. So why is Will so mad?”
“May said no,” Mum mumbles in a husky low tone.
“No.” The shocked reaction from my father has me frightened when he releases his hold, keeping me at arm’s length. “May?”
“No. Daddy, I’m not doing it.”
Pulling me back against his chest has my father nestling his head into my hair as well as one of his hands. The sound of his lips kissing below the firm hold he has on my head causes me to cry even harder. Before long, I realise Dad’s crying just as hard.
Huddled now with limbs belonging to three people entwined together in a family unit only escalates my sadness. We’re forced to part when the banging of drawers opening and shutting loudly forces our attention. Will has re-entered the bedroom much to my relief, but it’s short-lived when I see the open suitcase on the bed.
“Will, mate, come on, let’s go and sit and talk about what you need right now.” Dad is quick to Will’s side, trying to offer him support, guidance even.
“I need space. Let me pack my bag and leave.” Will doesn’t even look at me when he throws clothes into its opening.
When the zip seals the contents inside, Will mumbles, “Fuck this life,” before clutching the handle of the suitcase and dropping the wheels to the floor. “I’m so mad at you, May.” These are the words he leaves me with before storming from the room, yanking the suitcase behind him.
“No. No. No.” I hobble in a jog in his wake. “Will, you can’t leave me. I’m your wife, your May. What the fuck are you doing? Turn around. Look at me. I have cancer, for Christ’s sake. Look at yourself right now. You’re leaving your ill wife. Don’t be heartless. You’re not a heartless person, Will. You’re a kind person, a giving, sweet, loving person…Will.”
I follow him until he stops by the front door.
He doesn’t turn around. He only says, “If you loved me, you’d want to live for me.”
The door slams hard after he walks through it and I jolt from the impact.
I do love him. Can’t Will see what I’m doing is what is supposed to happen?
Pacing back and forth where Will left me, I stop only to stare at the door, wishing with every breath it would reopen. I picture Willard standing there sad and sorry for himself, apologetic for all he’s said and done. It doesn’t happen.
“May, come on, honey, let’s get you back into bed,” Mum whispers, her cheek pressed to mine before her hands softly caress both my upper arms. “Honey, he’ll come back, just give him a chance to cool down. Will’s hurting. We’re all hurting. Nobody knows the right way to react right now.”
“Mummy!” I scream when stars twinkle in front of my eyes.
“There, there.”
“I don’t feel right.” My lips grow so heavy I can’t part them properly to form words. A warmth travels through my limbs before my legs collapse and I’m stolen into a darkness that robs me of my conscious state.
“Always and forever, no matter the weather, Maybelline. I promise to make sunshine fill your life even when storms brew and crash hard upon us. I love you more than I love me…no. It’s true. I do. You’re my best friend and an angel who leaves happiness in her wake. Today you’re about to become my wife. Maybelline, I promise I’ll love you forever until death do us part. I promise you I’ll never give up on us, on our love. I never will. Can life get any better than this? I honestly don’t think it can. Now could you please kiss me already and seal the deal?” Will puckered his lips and leant forward only to be halted by the sly chuckle the priest slipped out before composing himself and reminding Willard he must complete all the formalities before the kiss could take place.
Staring into his cheeky eyes, I knew they were accompanied by an identical smile. I also knew I’d hit love’s biggest jackpot. My best friend stood before me, decked out in a perfect black suit and in a few short moments he’d be my husband. No, I didn’t think life could ever get any better than that. I was right where I was supposed to be…at an altar with my Willard, ready to give him all the pieces of my heart for the remainder of my life. I believed it would be one hell of an adventure and for every hard day, we would be rewarded with several good ones.
“Kiss me.” I smirked, lifting my veil, ignoring the tradition of a kiss held to the very end of a ceremony. What is an end anyway, if there isn’t spontaneity beforehand?
The darkness is now filled with a single tunnel of light and from this tunnel comes a calling of my name. My wedding day memories disappear with the brightness inviting me, drawing me home. A second call of my name is mumbled, but I know it’s Willard’s voice, so I follow it. The sound grows louder and clearer with every step I take, so I don’t slow my pace. Instead, I search for him.
“Willard!” I call out. Then I feel a forceful pull of my body, which causes my eyes to seal shut before flashing open.
“May, thank God.” Stress lines mar Will’s face.
“Will, you came back home.” My throat is thick and swallowing is hard.
“Sssh. Rest. You blacked out. You’re in the hospital.”
“Again?” I groan.
“Doctor Brown is coming. I’ve paged him.”
“Why did you leave me, Willard?”
A light huff passes his lips before he sits upon the bed and strokes my hair. “I’m really frightened of a life without you in it. Why are you choosing to leave me?”
The sound of my heart hammering only grows louder when I witness the lost look draining the colour from Will’s eyes. “I didn’t choose to leave you, Will. Can’t you see? Baby or no baby, I’m—” I can’t say the word aloud to Will.
Dropping his head to lean against mine, Will whispers, “I’m mad at the world, May. I’m so very mad.”
“I know.” My voice is hushed, trying to swallow his pain.
When Will’s arms gather me and he slides the rest of his body onto the bed, I relax into him, taking in the scent of his cologne. For some reason, Will smells differently than usual, and I can’t help wondering if it’s because his skin is leaking out his fear.
The humming that echoes in Will’s throat now pressed to my cheek tells me he’s going to sing our song. I wait for the very first word of “The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra—the song Willard’s mother used to play on a record player when we were little kids. He doesn’t sing a word, though, which makes me anxious because he always sings the words. I can’t help but worry as he continues his humming. Pressing my cheek harder against the vibrations, I close my eyes, trying to elevate the strangeness surrounding us in this hospital bed, and as I do, I picture Willard waltzing around the lounge room with his mother when he was just seven years old. Smiling brings a happy recollection of a more grown version of myself, one with Will’s hand held tightly to mine while he placed the other hand on the small of my back and tried desperately to teach me this very same waltz.
I eventually mastered it.
A soft knocking takes over the sound of humming, causing us to part. Will stands rather quickly before outstretching his hand in welcome to Doctor Brown’s.
“Will, I came as quickly as I could,” he puffs.
Did the doctor run here?
“So, she passed out.” Will takes no time in getting down to the business end of why we are here in the first place. “I wasn’t there, but her parents were. They said it took a fair while for her to come around, but with a bit of cold water against her cheeks, she did. The ambulance driver explained she drifted in and out when I met them here.”
“Okay. Well, let’s have a look at her chart and see what is going on.”
“
She’s been sleeping since and awoke not long ago,” Will continues as I pull my body upright into a seating position.
The funny thing is I feel fine now.
Doctor Brown takes a folder from the end of the bed. I grin at the bright and fruity looking lime green business shirt he wears under his coat. My doctor has peculiar taste in clothing. Shifting his glasses to the bridge of his nose, he studies the chart, and I’m intrigued by his level of concentration.
“What happened before she passed out, Will? Do you know?”
Flicking my eyes in his direction, I watch Will’s body tense before he runs his hand through his hair and puffs out his cheeks with a held breath.
“We had a fight,” I mumble, saving him the explanation.
“I see.” Doctor Brown again focuses on the chart. “Well, it could be from low blood pressure. It was slightly low, but not as low as I would have thought to cause such a spell, May.” Running his finger and thumb over his chin, he shakes his head. “My concern is we might be looking at something happening in your brain.”
I stiffen instantly. “My brain?”
“Yes.”
“What does this mean?” Will’s panic is obvious.
“Tumours,” he responds with little emotion.
“In her brain?”
“Yes. The cancer could have already metastasised and travelled into the tissue. We know from the biopsy, cells have formed outside of the bone, so this option is a strong possibility. An MRI of your head will help us in diagnosing May.”
“No.” My voice trembles.
“The baby,” Will adds before running his hand up the back of his neck.
“It’s the only way to know for sure,” Doctor Brown concludes, placing the chart back into the holder attached to the end of the bed.
“It will hurt the baby, though.” Will is quick to my side.
I hold out my hand, and he takes it without a second thought.
“Little impact.” Doctor Brown seems confident when he tucks his glasses into the top pocket of his coat.