“Good. I don't want you to ever do that again. Have you any idea how scared we've been Rox? I had no idea where you'd gone, what might have happened to you.”
I looked away, guilty as I pictured the stranger in the club the previous night. What did happen to me? What would happen to me if I kept wandering? I knew the answer to that. I would do everything I could to speed up my departure. I wasn't brave enough to do it outright, but that didn't mean I couldn't cause myself some serious harm if it meant not living with the uncertainty of my future. I would drink until I numbed the pain. I would forget to eat. I would search out other ways to harm myself, forget who I was and why I was running from my life. Maybe I would even put aside how awful I had felt about myself last night, and once again let a stranger do what he pleased to me, if it meant taking me away from my reality for a little while. I would commit a slow, cowardly, painful suicide that my family would read about in the news. And that was the most selfish thing I could imagine doing to them.
They deserved better. I knew it now. I knew that Lucas was right. I needed to go home. I needed to be the wife I had promised to be, until death do us part. I needed to hold my son until he was dragged from my arms, give him all the love he deserved while I still could. I needed to leave them with a memory of me that was worth something. I needed to create my legacy. “Okay,” I nodded, looking up at my husband who was watching me closely. “Okay. I'll come home with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Something strange happens when you realise you're going to die. Not just realise, actually. Accept. When you accept today really could be it. This could be the last sunrise. The last smile. The last kiss. Suddenly, everything comes into focus. Every minute becomes a gift.
It took four days after Lucas brought me home. He ran me a bath, then tucked me in bed placing Oscar in my arms, and I'd cried until I couldn't breathe. I'd felt like my insides had been torn out. I'd wanted it to be over, right then, that very moment. I couldn't bear the waiting.
But then something changed. Acceptance. I guess I'd passed through the five stages of grief, though I still don't know what they all are. Is having sex with strangers in clubs and nearly freezing yourself to death on that list? Maybe. All I knew was that the next morning I woke up to the sound of Lucas in the shower, Oscar sleeping peacefully beside me, and I wasn't afraid anymore. I understood that nothing I said or did or wished would make the slightest bit of difference. And I knew, with blinding clarity, that I was wasting time.
I climbed out of bed and padded softly into the en-suite, leaving the door ajar so I could hear if Oscar cried for me. Pulling off my thick fleecy socks and baggy t-shirt, I threw them on the tile and peeked around the shower curtain. Lucas jumped when he saw me, his hand flying dramatically to his chest. “Jesus Rox, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry,” I smiled, my eyes travelling down his broad, soapy shoulders, his wide, strong chest. I stepped into the shower, arching toward the warm flowing water.
“Is... uh, is everything okay?” he murmured.
“You tell me.” I leaned forward, kissing him deeply, pushing my body against his. When was the last time I had done this? I couldn't even remember.
“Oh,” he said as I pulled back a little to look at him. “Oh.” And then he seemed to remember how this dance went. His hands slid down my waist, his lips found mine and he pushed me against the cold wall, taking me, reclaiming me. I did not count it as wasted time.
“I want to go kayaking,” I told him through a mouthful of bacon and buttery bread. I'd decided there was little point in sticking to sugar free muesli now, I may as well eat what I pleased.
“Kayaking? Why?”
“I've never done it. I found this place in Dorset where you can hire them. It's a pretty calm stretch of water. We can even take Oscar.”
“Hmm. Yeah, maybe sometime,” he answered absently.
“I want to go today,” I told him taking a deep glug of tea.
“Today? Uh, I dunno Rox. Shouldn't you be resting or something? Shouldn't we go and see the consultant at hospital?”
“No.” I'd already decided I would not be setting a foot back in that hospital. Not until they wheeled me in on a stretcher and deposited me in a fridge, in any case. There was no point. The consultant had told me everything I needed to know, and unless there was some medical breakthrough in the immediate future, there was nothing else they could offer me.
I stood up, sweeping the crumbs off the counter and onto my plate with the side of my hand, before dropping it into the sink. I didn't bother to wash it. “I'll get Oscar's bag ready. And the camera,” I added as an afterthought. It would be nice for them to have some photos of our adventure to look back on. The calmness I felt took me by surprise. A few days ago the idea of taking pictures to remember me by would have thrown me into despair. Acceptance, I realised again.
“Finish your food and we'll meet you in the car, okay?”
Lucas was staring open mouthed at me. “Rox...”
“Five minutes,” I ordered, picking up the changing bag and walking out of the room before he could argue with me. I threw nappies and babygrows into Oscar's bag. A warm blanket, a few books. Then impulsively I pulled a suitcase out from under the bed, tossing a jumble of clothes from Lucas's wardrobe into it. I opened my own wardrobe and grabbed a handful of items, throwing them on top of the pile. Then underwear, toiletries, my journal. I jammed the case shut and grinned at Oscar who was lying on his play-mat, kicking his legs in the air. “You ready angel?” I whispered, excitement bubbling in my belly.
“What's this?” Lucas asked as I clattered down the stairs, baby under one arm, the heavy suitcase bumping along beside me.
“Clothes. Things we might need.”
“For kayaking? For a day trip?”
“It might be longer than a day. There are a few other... adventures I want to try.”
“Rox... I'm not sure I want to do this. It doesn't feel right. You're supposed to be ill. Recuperating. We can't just go away.”
“Lucas,” I breathed, plopping Oscar down on the carpet. “Darling.” I put my hands on his cheeks, pulling his face down to meet mine, touching my forehead to his. “There isn't going to be a recuperation. You know that.”
He shook his head, his eyes wet. “We have to try.”
“It won't help.”
“It might.”
“It won't.”
“You expect me just to go along with this? To just give up? Stop trying? You expect me to just let you go? I can't do it Roxy!” He pulled away from me, his eyes wild, desperate. I moved towards him again, closing the gap between us, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest, the sound of his heart thrumming in my ear. I had always fit perfectly against his body, my head always positioned right beside his heart. “It only makes that sound for you,” he had once told me.
“I wish it was different,” I whispered. “I wish I could give you me. I wish we were going to grow old together, just like I promised we would,” I swallowed. “But I don't have any of that to give now. All I have to give you is this time, this moment, right now. And if I'm lucky, the next, and the one after that. I don't know how many moments I have left, but they're yours. All the time I have, it's yours.”
I felt him kiss the top of my head, and turned to wipe my tear-streaked face against his t-shirt. “Lucas,” I murmured into his chest. “It's all I've got. Time. Memories. Let's make it mean something, okay? Let's not waste it wishing for the impossible.” I pulled back, looking him in the eye. He stared at me in silence for a long while, so long I began to think he might refuse me. Then he leaned forward and kissed me slowly, as if he could kiss away all my pain. Finally he pulled back. “Okay,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Let's make some fucking memories.”
Chapter Twenty-Four