Page 77 of Always Beth
‘Who cares? You knew and you didn’t say anything.’
‘I was trying to protect her.’ My jaw locks hard as I hold in my anger.
‘Oh, by what, not talking about something, not facing it head on, burying your head in the pissing sand?’
If this isn’t a personal attack, I don’t know what is. Typical. Using Beth as an excuse to get a dig in about how dramatically useless I’ve been with her prognosis. I stand in silence, inwardly seething, unable to commit my thoughts to words.
‘You know deep down she would have expected this of Stephen, don’t you?’
I throw my hands in the air. ‘Well, why’s she so upset then?’
‘Because she didn’t expect it of you. You’ve let her down.’
I drop my head to my chest and study the chipped tiled floor intently. I never realised how bad it actually was until I’ve focused all of my diverted attention on it.
‘Is that what I’ve done to you?’
‘Done what?’ she snaps.
‘Let you down?’
Her face softens and her eyes fill with tears. ‘God no. If anything, I’ve let you down.’
How could she ever let me down? From the moment I took my first breath, she’s been there for me. There’s a photo of us, somewhere in the many albums our parents had of us, and all you can see is her arms wrapped around me, only hours old. Inseparable from birth.
‘You’ve never let me down,’ I murmur.
Shakily she hands me a piece of paper, she’s been clutching it this whole time, but I never even thought to ask what it was. Beth was right, that’s my problem, it is always my agenda.
‘Wh-whats this?’
I cast my eyes across the paper and my fingers still as I trace the words on the page.Discontinue treatment?My chest tightens and I grip the paper firmly in my hand. She can’t do this.
‘No. No, Lauren, you can’t.’ The desperation in my voice is raw and unlike anything I’ve ever heard from myself.
‘I already have. Look at the date.’
My eyes erratically scour the page and then I see it. This letter is nearly six weeks old.
‘But we’ve been to the hospital twice since this letter, what have you been doing? Is this why you didn’t want me to come inside? Is this why you’ve been making amends? Are you saying goodbye?’ Question after question tumbles from my lips and she stares at me blankly unclear where to even start.
‘I can’t do it anymore. It takes too much out of me. I’m going to have nurses come in to help with the things you can’t.’
I drop to my knees in front of her and she follows, and we kneel face to face.
‘Please, James, I need you to understand.’
‘You’re giving up,’ I force the words out. It sounds so final.
‘No, I’m taking control.’
My face contorts as I fight to keep my own tears at bay. ‘How long?’ I whisper.
‘I didn’t ask, I don’t want to know.’
I gasp for air as the reality hits me that this is finite, for every treatment cycle she had I clung on to a little bit of hope that something might change, now we don’t even have that.
‘Chemotherapy was never going to save me, it was going to prolong my life, but look at the quality of it?’
