Hello World (23 page)

Cancer.

How can
one word be powerful enough to pull families apart, separate children from
their parents, ignite the greatest fear in one’s self? How can one word have
enough power to do so much damage?

I think
that word will be imprinted on the back of my eyelids for as long as I live,
because that’s what it does. It spreads and spreads, eating up everything in
its way until there’s nothing left, and leaves its trace everywhere. It stains
beds in hospitals, tints the lives of others and decorates gravestones.

And now?
Now it’s attached to Jay.

Standing
speechless in the garden, I watch everything happen in a blur; a stretcher
being brought towards an ambulance, Blake’s hands holding me back to stop me
running towards him, screaming.

Because I
know what’s happening, everything has clicked into place. Jay is dying.

The next
thing I register is that I’m being pulled towards a car, a male voice asking if
I want to go with him to the hospital. I nod absently and let them guide me.

Sometimes
shapes make themselves known to me, the tiny frame of Joy clutching my hand and
of Blake going in and out of focus. For a long time we’re all held back, told
to stay in the waiting room. No one tells us if it’s going to be alright or
not, just that they’re doing the best they can.

Finally,
someone comes through, a look of triumph on their face and tells the
Ellsworth’s that they can see him now; family only.

I mumble
words that I’ll be fine and they go in search of him, leaving me lost and
confused, sitting in the cold waiting area.

Because
that’s the other thing about cancer; you can know exactly what’s wrong, know
every single detail, yet it still makes no sense. It still leaves you lost.

I feel
even more confused because I only know the very basic details. Jay has brain
cancer, a large monster near his cerebellum like a ticking bomb. He could be
fine one moment and gone the next.

In an
effort to distract myself, I go in search of a vending machine. I have to find
a distraction in order to keep myself pulled together and standing, otherwise
I’ll collapse in a violent shaking of tears.

When I
find the vending machine however, I lean against the wall and can’t seem to
keep it together anymore. I slide down it, landing in a pile and just let the
tears out, trying to be quiet but not really caring either.

It’s like
losing Alex all over again, except even more painful because I
know
what’s happening, and I am
powerless to stop it.

A nurse
passes and helps me back to the seating area where I end up just staring at a
wall.

Blake
finally emerges and I shoot up, almost toppling over again in the process. His
face is pale and strained, but he offers me a small, forced smile anyway.

‘He wants
to see you,’ he tells me in a barely steady voice. I just nod and let my feet
take me to his room, but they suddenly come to a stop and I turn to Blake.

‘Just for
the record, it wasn’t your aunt you’ve been scared about these past few weeks,
is it?’ I ask softly, for some reason needing the confirmation.

Blake
shakes his head ever so slightly.

‘I’m
sorry,’ is all he replies.

‘So am I,’
I stammer.

When I
reach Jay’s room, Harold and Joy are just emerging from it themselves. Not
knowing what to say to each other, Joy squeezes my hand again before they move
on. I take a deep breath before slowly opening the door and slipping into the
hospital room.

Jay lies
on the bed, his eyes shut, tied up to various IV machinery.

I can see
it now, really see it. He’s lost weight and his face looks slightly thinner,
dark circles around his eyes and a paler complexion. Jay’s still handsome
though, still beautiful.

‘You would
have thought that in January, it would be cold enough for the hospital to give
out trousers,’ Jay comments, still with his eyes closed. ‘My buttocks are
freezing under this.’

I don’t
laugh. I can’t.

‘When were
you going to tell me?’ I say eventually, in a quiet and shaky voice. ‘Or were
you just gunna let your gravestone do the explaining for me?’

Now Jay
opens his eyes. He looks at me for a long time before shaking his head.

‘Neve-’

‘Don’t,’ I
cut him off, a sob finally breaking free. ‘Don’t call me Neve, you only call me
that when something’s wrong… and I can’t… not now…’

Jay’s lips
twitch upwards.

‘Red, come
here.’ He sits up in bed and indicates to the chair beside him.

I give him
a sort of nod and fall into the chair, lacing my fingers through his. He’s
never felt so fragile before.

‘Just hear
me out?’ he asks, eyebrow arched. I manage another nod. Then he holds up the
hands that are entwined together. ‘Do you see what you’re doing now? Holding my
hand as if it might break at any moment? My family have been doing that with me
since I was first diagnosed, tiptoeing around me as if I might break. The only
one who keeps things marginally normal is Blake, and I can still see the regret
in his eyes if he thinks he pushed me too hard.

‘I can’t
live like that, having everyone constantly keeping me wrapped in an invisible
safety blanket. So when you came along, I realised that maybe there could be
one person, it only had to be one, who knew me but didn’t treat me like that. Treated
me like a normal eighteen-year-old, not a walking disaster. I know it was
selfish, I know how wrong it was but even now I don’t regret it. And if that
makes me a bad person then fine, so be it. But you know it’s true, would you
have really just laughed it off when I went flying down that hill on our road
trip if you had known?’

I go to
protest but realise I can’t, because he’s right. Jay sighs.

‘There’s
one thing that’s surprised me more than anything, Red. The fact that, from the
first night we met, you never asked me why I was on that bridge,’ he muses.

I gasp,
realising I hadn’t thought about it since I was in Nadine’s office the day
after. I guess I’d just written it off to coincidence.

He raises
an eyebrow.

‘Are you
going to ask me now?’

I regard
him carefully. ‘Why?’ I ask at last.

‘For the
same reason you were,’ Jay replies softly, squeezing my hand. His meaning takes
a moment to sink in. Jay sighs again and leans back into the hospital bed,
closing his eyes again.
 
‘This
thing
inside me, its hurt my family more
than it’s hurt me. When we moved here I was just staring around the new house
at all the unpacked boxes and thought,
why
?
Why did they have to suffer along with me? The only reason we moved was so that
I could spend my last few months in a more peaceful area, closer to family than
in London.

‘I figured
that the world would be better off without me, that if I just gave it all up
they could move back to London and move on with their lives. I’d seen the old
bridge on our way into the new town so I just felt compelled to go there.’

Then Jay
smiles, looking up at me and squeezing my hand.

‘Instead
of death that night, I found a lost girl with bright red hair and a terrible
temper. I didn’t know it, but I had found my hope, my reason for fighting.’
Jay’s face falls again, but a ghost of a smile still hangs there. ‘When I saw
you on that bridge, it scared me more than anything. Maybe because I saw you as
myself for a brief second. For a moment, I almost let you do it; after all, you
were there for the same reason as me, right? Who am I to deny anyone freedom
from themselves? But then I saw you waiver, and I couldn’t stand to watch you
fall. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground being screamed at by said girl,’
Jay laughs.

‘I was in
so much shock from what had just happened that I went straight home, and when I
saw you the next day I just
knew
that
I couldn’t give up just yet. I had one last thing to do before I left,’ he
muses, now using his free hand to trace patterns over my hand. ‘You, Red. You
are the reason I’m still here, still fighting. You gave me a reason to live.’

He finally
finishes and looks up to see my reaction. I just sit there numbly.

Jay, I
realise, has been tracing along the scars on my palm from where I had dug in my
nails and drawn blood yesterday.

‘You know,
whenever you’re upset, you hurt yourself,’ he muses quietly, tapping my palm.

‘There
must be something the doctors can do right?’ I ask instead, trying to draw the
topic of conversation away from myself. I pull my hand away so he has to stop
tracing and sit on it instead. He gives me a long look before answering.

‘It’s too
late for that, the cancer’s developed too far,’ Jay murmurs.

‘But what
about chemo? That’s supposed to sort everything out,’ I utter miserably.

Jay
chuckles.

‘Been
there, done that, got the T-shirt,’ he grins weakly. I look at him with
confusion and he shakes his head. ‘I’ve had the chemo. It got rid of it, but
the Bastard came back with a vengeance. It’s gotten to the point where chemo
won’t kill it, just prolong the inevitable. I gave up the treatment months
ago.’

I go to
argue but Jay puts up a hand to silence me. ‘Chemo changes you. Only slightly,
but enough,’ he explains, frowning. ‘I know it sounds stupid, but when I go, I
still want to be Jay. I want to be me; hair and all,’ he smiles sadly.

‘When did
you find out?’ I ask quietly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. If I
just keep asking questions and listening, I won’t have to think.

‘It
started a few years ago and disappeared. It came back last year, and a few
months ago we came to accept that in a couple of months, I may not be around
anymore. Its terminal Neve, nothing can change that. But I need you to be
strong for me, okay? I can’t have anything happen to you too,’ Jay pleads,
worry in his eyes.

I raise an
eyebrow. Jay’s here, dying, and he’s worried about me?

Because he’s in control, he accepted this a
long time ago,
a voice whispers. I move out of my seat
and plant a kiss on his forehead, squeezing his hands.

‘Of
course,’ I whisper, as strongly as I possibly can.

A nurse
knocks on the door, telling me that they need to take Jay in for more tests and
I nod. Just before I leave though, Jay calls to me.

‘Do me a
favour?’ he asks, a glint in his eyes.

‘Course,’
I smile.

‘Burn that
diary of yours for me, the one with all the messages in. Burn it, and burn it
good.’ He winks at me and I roll my eyes before leaving his room.

It’s only
when I’m finally out of the room that everything comes crashing down again;
this is really happening.

I take a
deep breath and go in search of Blake, heading towards the seating area we were
first led into. The Ellsworth’s aren’t there, but a young woman in her very
early twenties comes up to me, her eyes the same green as Jay’s but with hair
which is darker and thicker, like Blake’s.

‘Neve?’ The
girl asks. I nod. ‘Are they still letting people see him, my brother I mean?’

Ah, so
this must be their sister, Carrie.

‘They’re
running tests on him, sorry,’ I explain. The girl’s shoulders slump and she
pinches the bridge of her nose. I notice that she’s in a nice suit and skirt,
although it looks creased from all of the sitting around. ‘Carrie, right?’

Carrie
looks up and gives a small smile, shaking her head in frustration and running a
hand through her hair.

‘You must
think I’m a Bitch, right?’ she suddenly says.

My eyes
widen and my eyebrows rise at the statement. ‘No, why would I think that?’

‘Because I
knew all this was going on and I still refused to come home for Christmas,’ she
replies distantly, still shaking her head. ‘The truth is, some part of me was
scared to see him like this. And I guess I hoped that if maybe I tried running
from it, it might disappear,’ she sighs miserably, trailing off. Then she looks
at me again and straightens herself.

‘But, you
don’t care about any of that. Everyone else has gone home, want a lift back?’
she asks kindly. Dumbly, I look around as if the Ellsworth’s will appear out of
nowhere.

‘Can you
take me back to theirs?’ I ask uncomfortably, wringing my hands together.

Carrie
brightens. ‘Of course, come on.’

She leads
me down to her car and we undergo a slightly awkward ride back. Eventually I
find my voice and ask her about New York, but she only gives minimal answers.

‘I thought
you were supposed to be in New York anyway?’ I suddenly frown. Carrie chuckles.

‘Jay got
really ill over the weekend, so I took the first plane over. I got in about
half an hour ago, jet lag is a killer,’ she tells me wryly.