by Belle Brooks
“What do you think, May?” Will’s eyes burn into mine.
I know he wants me to say yes, but I’m unsure about wanting to know if there’s cancer in my brain. Something about the thought of tumours in my head makes me feel physically ill.
“I don’t think I want to know if they are there, babe.”
He nods before turning towards Doctor Brown. “Can I take May home now?”
“Yes.” Doctor Brown smiles softly. “You can take her home, but you will need to keep a close eye on her and if she loses consciousness again, you need to come straight back here, okay?”
“Understood,” Will confirms.
“One more thing,” Doctor Brown adds, “I’ll need to talk to the team of specialists caring for you and your pregnancy again, May, and see what our plan will be. Will, can you call in the morning and make a late afternoon appointment with me at the clinic? Jessica will be expecting the call.”
“I will do that. Thank you, Doctor Brown.” Kissing the back of my hand, Will takes a sturdy inhale. “Let’s go home, Maybelline.”
Closing my eyes, I nod and allow this heavy angst to exit my body. Will is by my side now, and we need to make it twenty-four more weeks…it’s how long I will have to survive for my child to have the best possible chance. I can do this.
Reality shows are entertaining to watch. Binge watching reality shows is even better. Doing this with your best friend is day making. Gem brought over every season of anything reality to watch with me, while Will attends my doctors’ appointments without me. I seriously don’t want to know Jack shit about what is happening inside my body…well, unless it’s seeing my baby and being told everything is fine with him or her.
“I have popcorn, a bag of all your favourite sweet treats, soft drink, and a picture of Matthew McConaughey for you to drool over. I am seriously the bestest best friend in the world.”
Giggling is necessary when Gem tries to juggle the bowl of popcorn without spilling it, as well as the other items in her hand as she approaches the couch.
“Funny. Really?”
“Yes.” I giggle harder as she manages to get the items onto the coffee table before dropping down beside me.
“Here’s your eye candy.”
“Thank you very much,” I gush, taking the photo from her outstretched hand before laying my lips to his tiny photographed head. “Matthew McConaughey makes everything better.”
“You and Matthew McConaughey. Will is going to have to watch himself with that one.”
Tucking into Gem’s side, I, of course, agree. He is the only man in the world who could ever steal me from Willard.
“Okay. Let me go through the topic of conversations you have so forcefully put off-limits today.”
“Cool. Shoot.”
“No talk of cancer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Dying, my life without you, what I think happens after someone dies. Anything sad or draining. The weather, that one is odd. Religion, fair enough, this topic should always be off-limits for everyone. Traffic and elephants. May, those two are just plain weird. You know this, right?”
“I do.” I chuckle.
“I love you, girl.”
“Right back at ya.”
“What about work? We can talk about work?”
“Sure, work is fine. Are they missing me?” I scrunch my nose as I wait for her reply.
“Of course. I miss you the most, though. Everyone is still shocked, to be honest. You should come in and visit…set some minds at ease.”
“Maybe,” I’m instantly solemn.
“Oh, no. I’m already breaking the rules, aren’t I?”
“It’s okay.” I rub the length of Gem’s arm. I miss work and the day to day regularity of life. I’m a liability, though, so I couldn’t stay, even if I wanted to.
Patting my leg, Gem says, “What junk are we watching first?”
“Bachelor,” we both answer at the same time.
“Jinx!” Gem shouts.
Oh, crap.
“Now you can’t talk. I need to tell you something.”
Shaking my head wildly has Gem laughing before her expression deadpans and she stares into my eyes.
“I love you so much. I’m fucking angry about what is to come. I am right here through the entire thing with you, girl. You can tell me anything. May, I’m sorry you’re even facing this.”
Tears drip from my eyes. There was never any chance of holding these tears in. Gem is my favourite person in the world, apart from Willard, and although I know she’s been wanting to express how she feels, until now she has been strong and brave enough not to do so.
“May. Your bucket list. Are we going to mark as many off as we can? I know how much you love your life’s list.” The corners of her lips arch as she wipes away my tears with her thumbs.
Pointing to my pinched tight mouth, I indicate my current jinxed situation.
“May, May, May,” she blurts quickly.
“You said my name four times.” I grin.
“Bucket list.”
“What about it?”
“We should do as many things as we can, right?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your bucket list and you’ve been fanatical about it for years.”
“Was my bucket list, Gem. Now it’s my fuck-it bucket list. No point in doing any of it. I have other things to worry about, for one, growing a foetus.”
Gem bursts into a fit of laughter entwined with crying. “Fuck-it bucket list. You are one of a kind.”
“Well, it is. Some things you must say ‘Fuck-it’ to. This is one of those things.”
“Okay.” She sighs, rubbing her face with both hands. “Arrrggh, you’re killing me with sadness, dear May.”
“And you’re breaking the rules.” Punching Gem’s arm has me sucking in pained air. “Ouch. Fuck. Help.”
When she sees me holding my closed fist with my other hand, Gem launches from the couch until she is standing in front of me.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hand.” I grimace, sucking quick breaths through my teeth. “I think it’s seized up or something. I can’t fold my fingers out.”
“Okay. Here.” Gem rubs her hand back and forward across my knuckles.
“Gem, pull my fingers out. The pain is killing me,” I yell in desperation.
“I’m trying. I’m scared to hurt you.” Her panic is obvious.
“It’s already really, really hurting. Please, Gem, hurry up and do it.”
Finger by finger, Gem pulls them straight. I try hard not to howl, but I’m unsuccessful. Finally, the pain dulls to an ache when she has them all straightened. “I’ll get you a heat pack.”
“Please.” My voice is barely audible.
The fear mixed with worry in her eyes makes me feel physically sick. My stomach flips and flops, pushing my stomach’s contents into my throat. This is only the beginning. I’m petrified to even think about the agony I’ll endure at the end of all of this.
“Gem, get a bucket, I’m going to vomit.” I gag.
So, I have morning sickness. It is not delightful, not in any way. My ribs hurt, my stomach is raw, and every time my head hangs over the toilet bowl and I empty my raw stomach, I must eat again. Morning sickness truly sucks, but it will all be worth it in the end and I’m grateful.
Will holds my hair and rubs small circles against my back as I work on round three for the morning. It helps I’m not alone in my misery. I’ve endured a week of morning sickness and I’d like it to end. Bring on lunch time when it subsides. Doctor Brown was telling me other women aren’t so lucky. They have it all day and night and some for the entire duration. Good God, they are my heroes right now.
Yesterday, Will summoned Doctor Brown to our apartment. I’m not sure if Doctor Brown does house visits, but Will’s insistence for me to seek medical evaluation beat over my stubbornness and resulted in Doctor Brown being inside our house. I had blood in my vomit yesterday morning, and
Will was worried the blood meant something bad was happening. Doctor Brown had a look down my throat and quickly concluded it was only some ruptured blood vessels caused from straining…completely normal.
Will’s turning into a huge worrywart. He’s become my mother. But he is a much cuter, more handsome worrywart than my mum.
Lying in Will’s embrace as he twirls his index finger in patterns across my bare stomach, I feel some relief from the tickling sensation it creates. Vomiting down your shirt and overheating from said upchucking meant it was pointless putting on another T-shirt. Twitching from side to side at differing times from Will’s soft touch has light snickering passing his lips.
“Are you feeling better, babe?” he questions before kissing my hair.
“Much better. Those wafers are helping a little bit.”
“Doctor Brown said they are the best for nausea and completely safe.”
“Yeah. No work again today?” I enquire.
“Not today,” he informs, kissing my hair once more.
“Will, you can’t keep taking time off, though, just to care for me.”
“Given the circumstances, work understands.”
My heart sinks…it weighs a tonne in my chest. Will is trying to be brave and level-headed about things, even though his body and expressions betray him often.
“Plus, Lexi will be home in two days, so when she’s set up, I’ll go back.”
My sister, Lexi, is coming home from Paris. According to Mum, she lost her shit when she found out what’s going on back home. I can’t wait to see her. It feels like forever and a day since I have. I wish it were under better circumstances, though.
“May, so what I’m thinking is, we will put up a care roster. I saw this idea on the Internet the other night when I was looking things up. Basically, what it means is everybody will be scheduled to stay with you on different days.”
“Maybe we should hire a carer instead, you know. It’s not fair of me to ask—”
“You’re not asking, May, and why would you want a stranger caring for you over us? If you black out again, it needs to be one of us with you.”
“I don’t want a stranger, Will. It’s not what I meant.”
“I know you didn’t,” he’s quick to refute. “We can’t afford a carer now, anyway.”
“Okay.” I sigh.
“Did I tell you John is coming home as well?”
Shifting to my side before sitting upright, I look down at Will with widened eyes. “John-John? He’s coming home? Get out of here.”
The happiness in Will’s smile warms me. “Yeah, he is and so is Streeter.”
“Streeter as well?” I’m overcome by this information.
Will’s older brother, John, has been away now for six years. He has a job in Hollywood as a set designer and has worked on a lot of big movies. We haven’t had a chance to see him since he left. Well, we’ve Skyped throughout the years, but it’s nothing compared to him being here in the flesh. And Streeter, whose real name is Elliot, is Will’s best friend from school. He joined the navy and although he has come home from time to time over the last two years, it’s never been for long. Will misses both of them very much and is going to need all the support he can get. I’m so elated they are coming home, even though I can’t shake responsibility for messing up everybody’s lives.
“What’s with the glum look?”
“Nothing.” I pout.
Pulling me down on top of him, Will wraps me up like a pretzel. “Spill the beans, Maybelline. Why are you glum all of a sudden?” Will holds either side of my jaw as he searches my eyes.
“Because I’m messing up everyone’s lives,” I confess.
Will lets his eyelids fall shut and with their closing, he brings my head downwards until our lips press together.
Instant comfort.
Every kiss Will bestows upon me, I find myself cherishing, because one day very soon I won’t be able to enjoy his mouth like this. Intensifying my hold on his tongue, I press my exposed breasts to his clothed chest.
“Stop,” he breathes, turning his head away from me.
“Willard.”
“I can’t do it, May. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not breakable. Make love to me, Will, please. You haven’t made love to me since you—”
“Found out you were dying. Go on, say it.” He still doesn’t spare me a glance.
“Yes.”
“Say the words you haven’t been able to say aloud to me.” His voice rises, causing my bottom lip to quiver from its forcefulness.
“Willard,” I plead.
“Say you’re dying, May.” His hands fall away from my skin and I’m exposed with the loss of his touch.
“Why?” Folding my arms across my breasts, I try to hold myself while covering my nakedness.
“Say it.” His forceful tone cuts right through me as I climb off Will and sit on the mattress, continually telling myself not to cry.
“I need you to say it aloud, please, May.”
“You haven’t made love to me since you found out I was dying, Will. I’m dying, Will,” I whisper, attempting to bury the ache hell-bent on constricting my heart.
Closing my eyes, I plead for my instant sorrow to be contained and for the tears that are building not to burst out from behind them. I don’t succeed. They flood in a torrent down my trembling cheeks.
The noises folding from my tongue are primal. I’m hurting from Will’s distance—from the loss of him—his touch—his love. Why is he already living like I’m gone? Is this how Will will feel when my last breath leaves me? How I’m feeling right this minute?
“It’s not fair. I’m too young. I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die!” I scream so forcefully it burns the length of my throat. “Noooooo!” I scream again, this time louder as I throw the pillows from the bed in a tantrum.
For the first time since I’ve learnt of my fate, I lose it. I don’t just lose it a little bit, I fucking flip the hell out. Throwing myself from the bed, I rip at the wedding pictures hung on the wall, hurtling them across the room, letting my howls and heartache burst out in manifestations of agony as I go. The duchess in the corner of our bedroom is left bare when I swing my arm across its surface, removing the contents in one motion.
The photo frame beside the television at the foot of our bed contains a photo of me and Will as children in the field we always played in. Clutching it between my fingers, I scream, “We were supposed to grow old together. We were supposed to have the most epic love story. You were supposed to nurse me when I was old and grey…not twenty-three. Don’t make me say I’m dying, you prick. Don’t make me say it aloud to you. Don’t reject me. Don’t pretend I’m already dead.” The metal frame flies like a Frisbee when I release it with pure anger. The thud of it crashing into the wall only causes my torment to become more fuelled and my rampage to kick up a notch as I look for more items to destroy. Before I get a chance to leave the bedroom and continue like a cyclonic wind through the house, I’m pulled to the ground and securely contained in Willard’s arms. I’m suffocating from the pressure he’s applying, but I’m frightened for it to lessen at the same time. Stiffening my body, I blood curdling release every ounce of my fear. Will never falters in keeping me restricted.
He holds on to my bucking body and calls out, “I’m so sorry, Maybelline. I’m so sorry.”
When the tension holding my body stiff finally releases, I slump, gasping for air. I suck so hard, every mouthful has my oesophagus spasming. It stings and causes me to cough. Willard’s arms release me completely, so I press my cheek against the carpet, stroking the soft strands with my fingertips while mumbling, “I hate you.”
I’m rolled onto my back and when I finally see through my blurry eyes, I view Will’s bare chest hovering over me. As his body moves backwards, I’m greeted by his water filled eyes.
“I’m going to make love to you, Maybelline. I’m going to show you my love.”
I cry against his mouth when it
connects with mine. The passion he puts into this very kiss makes me sob harder. Time is of the essence and soon I’ll have no time left to feel his warm body and mouth against mine. I’m fighting to give life to our child and fighting to have as much time with Willard as I can while I’m here to do so.
My breast is cupped in his strong manly hands as his lips trace my jawline, then my neck. I moan in response. His fingers skim my tummy. I ache for him to be nestled inside me. For us, it’s been too long. I’m aching for our physical connection.
Will’s tongue traces my belly button and I hear him whisper, “Your mummy will give her life for yours and your daddy will give his life in caring for you. I promise I will do you both proud.”
Letting my hands run through Will’s hair, I close my eyes and surrender my heart, my inhibitions, and my soul to him.
“I’m so sorry, May.” His breath is bated.
Sitting up, I run my fingers the length of his core before pressing my lips in following. “I love you, Willard.”
Gently, he lays me back. Will handles me as if I’m fragile, a mere thin fragment of glass. He’s so scared, his hands are trembling and my once confident and fun loving Willard is fractured. My thighs skim his legs when he positions himself between them. “I love you,” he whispers.
We make love for the first time in over a month and as we do we cry together the entire time. Will was the first man to ever explore my body like this and he will also be the last. He has been the only man who’s been allowed to nestle inside me, and I have been the only woman to ever enjoy him…only I won’t be the last for Willard. He will find love again. I will make sure of it before I close my eyes and let my last breath free.
Willard is beautiful inside and out and when our eyes connect he automatically looks deep down into my soul…the soul that is only on loan to him and he breathes, “Don’t leave me, May. Stay with me until we’re old.”
“I’ll be with you,” I promise against his mouth before I kiss him like it will be the last time. I love Willard like no other and we are about to lose so much—we are going to lose this—the physical connection of our love. The worst part about what I’m left to endure over the following months is the day I’m going to have to say goodbye to my Willard. The man who has been my best friend for almost all my life, my soul mate.