‘Sorry, I meant Steven.’ I pinched my arm hard. ‘You were saying, “what if ”?’
‘What if you were with me when I did it?’
My stomach somersaulted like it did each and every time someone asked me that question.
‘If you need someone to be with you, then I’m happy to listen and keep you company.’
‘I don’t mean on the phone.’
His question caught me off-guard and I wasn’t sure if I understood him correctly. He was hesitant before he spoke again.
‘What if I asked you to be with me, Laura, here in my house, when I hanged myself ? Would you come?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I slept through my alarm and no one had thought to wake me up, so the house was silent and empty by the time I left my bed.
I passed the spare room that Tony had taken as his own, and wondered if I’d ever feel his breath against my neck again as he slept. My arm brushed against the staircase wall and left a black mark on my white dressing gown. I cursed the wall and threw the gown into the washing machine. And as I waited for the thirty-minute cycle to finish, I sat at the breakfast bar in my pyjamas, tucking into two strawberry yoghurts that Effie loved but were soon to go out of date. The machine’s drum tossed my dressing gown around in all directions. It resembled how the inside of my head had felt since Steven’s last phone call.
His request for me to be there for him in person as he died was all I could think about. For the last thirty-six hours, every time I tried to process one thought, another would come crashing down upon it, and they generally involved him.
Often, people don’t like to die alone. Many I’d assisted had shown their gratitude by asking to share their final moments with me on the other end of the telephone. A minority had been too self-centred to think about my needs, and I’d only learned of their deaths through notices in the local newspaper. But no one, not even David, had asked me to be there in person when they died. Until Steven.
What if I asked you to be with me, Laura, here in my house, when I hanged myself ? Would you come? His question still echoed inside me.
At the time, I’d blinked hard and shaken my head, taken aback by his offer. I’d attempted to retain my calm, professional veneer.
‘I don’t think that would be appropriate,’ I replied.
‘Sorry, I’m just . . . scared that I might get it wrong.’ He sounded disappointed in me.
‘I understand that, and I’d probably feel the same way if it were me. But I can be with you by phone for as long as you want.’
‘I need you here, to tell me if I’m messing something up and reassure me it’s all going to be all right. And to be there for me . . . you know . . . at the end.’
‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No, no, I’m not. But it’s just that you, like, get me. You aren’t like those therapists and counsellors who try to tell me how much I have to live for, or dose me up on a cocktail of drugs so I can’t think straight anymore. You properly care.’
‘I do.’ I was flattered he saw that in me.
‘Would you at least think about it?’
‘I can’t, Steven. I’m sorry, but you’re asking me to do something that’s illegal and completely unethical. I could get into so much trouble.’
An awkward silence surrounded us, neither knowing what to say next.
‘You’re right and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,’ he replied. ‘I won’t do it again.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘I should go now,’ he said and hung up.
I’d remained rigid with the receiver clamped to my ear as the end-of-call tone sounded. The rational side of me bristled at his invitation. I was annoyed with him for putting me in such a difficult position. But I felt excited, too – and that made me anxious.
‘Is everything all right, Laura?’ asked Sanjay. ‘You’re away with the fairies.’
Bugger off and leave me alone, was what I wanted to say. I needed space to process Steven’s request.
‘Yes, I’ve just had a difficult conversation,’ I replied. ‘Rape, you know.’
‘Do you need a time-out in the appointment room to talk about it?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. But thank you.’
I gave him a half-hearted smile and hurried from my booth to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, then patted it with a paper towel. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I reapplied my lipstick and foundation.
Of course you can’t do it! Why would he think you might? You’re a mother, for God’s sake. He has nothing to lose, whereas your children and husband need you. You have no idea who he really is when he’s away from the phone. He could be a lunatic. You’d never be so stupid as to say yes.
Suddenly the washing machine beeped to inform me the spin cycle had finished. I put my damp dressing gown in the tumble dryer and shoved a cinnamon bagel in the toaster.
I’d made the right decision to refuse. Being present for Steven’s death was a ridiculous, dangerous idea.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘I’m afraid I can’t find any record of him being here,’ the nurse began, scanning through Olly’s case notes on his computer. ‘Are you absolutely sure you’ve got the right hospital?’
‘Of course I’m bloody sure! Do I look like I’m stupid? I was here two weeks ago when he was in the high-dependency unit. Look again.’
He checked once more, but when his response came in the form of an apologetic shrug, I wanted to launch myself across the desk at him.
I’d arrived at the ward where Olly was being treated to find he was no longer there. Naturally I feared the worst and hurried towards the reception desk. My relief that my friend wasn’t dead was replaced with frustration that he’d clearly discharged himself.
My nose ran, and angry, burning tears poured down my cheeks as I dashed back to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat, slipping from present to past as memories of that final weekend under the care of our foster mother came to mind.
I recalled that whatever liquid anaesthetic Sylvia had given Olly to drink with his breakfast turned out to be much more powerful than the usual dose.
‘It’ll make you relax for longer,’ she’d advised as she passed him a brown glass bottle and told him to drink its contents in one gulp. Olly obliged and screwed up his face at the bitter taste. The one occasion he’d spat out something similar without her noticing, he’d ended up in more physical pain than he’d ever imagined. Sylvia was looking out for his best interests, he told me, as if to put me at ease. Neither of us believed it. Within moments, the liquid had the desired effect and his limbs drooped loosely from their sockets as if he had no strength left in them. Olly barely acknowledged Saturday morning’s visitor when he arrived to take him away soon after.