In Another Life (30 page)

Sebastian leant against the wall and slowly slid down it until he connected with the floor, placing his head in his hands. He felt like the world was crumbling around him.

“No, no,” he shook his head, unable to take the news in, unable to accept it. “No, no,” he made the sound over and over until it lost all meaning.

Within the family room Carol broke her silence. As Dr Simmons declared her daughter to be dead she let out a scream which echoed out along the corridor and crept in to the ICU. She didn’t stop screaming until after they’d sedated her.

“No, no,” Sebastian kept repeating his mantra. It all had to be some cruel joke and really Marie was fine. She’d be back home waiting for him and this would all just be some horrific prank she was playing on them, perhaps to teach them a lesson for not believing in Azriel.

“No, no, no,” Sebastian pulled himself in to ball and clung to his denial.

*

Two Weeks Later

Dr Simmons eyed the trio sat on the other side of his desk with caution. He knew that they wouldn’t welcome all of the news he had to give them.

“As you know, it was decided that I’d share the results of Marie’s post mortem with you. Since I’m familiar to both yourselves and the case history it seemed pertinent.”

Carol Schneider sniffed and pushed a tissue up against her sore red eyes even though no tears came. She’d already cried herself dry over the loss of her beloved daughter.

Both Carol and Bill were dressed in black whilst Sebastian wore a dark grey suit having returned from London specifically for this meeting. He’d considered staying up in Manchester but it was too difficult. Everywhere he looked he saw Marie. For the past fortnight he’d retreated back to his luxurious apartment in London where he’d attempted to find a resolution for his sorrow at the bottom of a bottle.

His suit was the only smart thing about him. The rest of him was a shambles. His cheeks were shadowed with stubble and his hair was knotted and in desperate need of wash.

Whilst Carol and Bill looked presentable their pale skin and dark, sunken eyes told the world of the weight of sorrow that they were being crushed beneath.

When no one spoke Dr Simmons proceeded.

“The cause of death was identified as extreme blood loss which resulted in multiple organ failure.”

Carol held Bill’s hand in a vice like grip, tightening it until his fingers began to tingle as blood could no longer reach them. He didn’t mind. The discomfort was a pleasant distraction from the dire information they were being forced to take in.

*

“You don’t have to come you know,” Bill had stated softly that morning as Carol put on her black dress and tied her hair up in to a neat bun.

“Yes, I do,” she’d replied sternly.

“It’s going to be hard, honey. You’ve already been through so much. Let me and Sebastian be there.”

“I’m going,” Carol declared, her mouth held in a tight line.

She’d hardened over the last two weeks. It was as if all of the joy and merriment had been wrung out of her and all that was left was her steely outer core.

“I just don’t want you getting any more upset.” Bill admitted, sat on the edge of the bed behind her. Across from their bedroom lay Marie’s pink room, still undisturbed. Neither of them had dared to enter it since her death. Bill feared that if he opened the door and found the room empty it would make her death all the more real. He wasn’t ready to deal with that. Not yet.

The bathroom was another matter. As soon as they returned from that horrific day at the hospital Carol had been straight up there scrubbing fiercely on her hands and knees. Bill tried to get her to stop but she refused. She scrubbed the floor and bath tubs and continued to clean even after all the blood was gone. She scrubbed until her hands became red and bloodied.

Watching her from the doorway Bill realised that she was cleaning as she needed something to do, something to focus on other than the pain and so he had left her and at three in the morning Carol had eventually ceased cleaning and joined him in bed.

*

“Did the autopsy show anything else?” Sebastian asked tensely as he clenched his jaw and popped his knuckles.

Dr Simmons looked at him in surprise.

“Actually, yes.”

“What was it?”

Dr Simmons hesitated, his eyes reading over the result which made him uneasy.

“Come on, tell us,” Bill insisted, wanting the meeting to be concluded as swiftly as possible. They were still in the arduous process of arranging Marie’s funeral, something he’d hoped as a father he’d never have to do. Each day he felt like he woke up and found himself living in his worst nightmare. It was an unbearable cycle of pain that seemed never ending.

“During the post mortem they discovered a tumour on Marie’s brain.”

“A tumour?” Sebastian moved his hand to grip the arm of the chair as he leaned forward and scrutinized the doctor.

“What do you mean they discovered a tumour?”

“They did routine blood work which suggested she had alleviated white blood cell levels, on further investigation they located a tumour in her temporal lobe.”

“Is that…is that what killed her?” Carol asked, her voice meek and small as though it should belong to a mouse rather than a full grown woman.

“No, darling, she killed herself,” Bill corrected gently.

“Wait,” Sebastian gestured towards the couple but didn’t take his eyes off the doctor. “Could such a tumour cause hallucinations?”

Grimly Dr Simmons looked over the case file and subsequently nodded.

“With such tumours, patients have reported having hallucinations, also dramatic alterations to their personality.”

“What?” Carol gasped in horrified disbelief.

“This is bullshit,” Sebastian roared as he rose to his feet, standing up so quickly and with such vigour that he sent his chair scattering across the floor towards the back of the room.

“Marie killed herself because she believed in some other imaginary world. She thought that people were approaching her, telling her to go back there. Are you telling me that this was all the result of some tumour?”

Dr Simmons squirmed uncomfortably beneath the heat of the young man’s temper.

“It is possible that the tumour would be responsible for the symptoms you described.”

“Mother fucker,” Sebastian threw his hands up and began to pace back and forth in front of the Schneiders.

“Why didn’t you spot it before?” Bill asked, trying to remain calm. “When she came in after the accident, why didn’t you see it then?”

“Her original scans after the accident showed bleeding on the brain. We alleviated the pressure from the bleed but the tumour was hidden from us in those scans as a result of it.”

Sebastian ground his teeth together. He wanted to shove his fist directly in to Dr Simmons’ face. Instead he pointed an accusatory finger at the doctor.

“You let her die.” 

Blood coursed through his veins, pulsating in his ears.

“You sent her home with that fucking tumour which ate away at her sanity! You let her die!”

“Mr Fenwick, please, just calm down,” Dr Simmons urged.

“You killed her!”

“No, Sebastian she killed herself,” Bill interjected, raising his voice as Carol whimpered beside him.

“Perhaps the tumour led her to do it but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring her back.”

Sebastian balled his hands in to fists and breathed heavily. He’d do anything to bring Marie back. Anything. Yet despite all his money, all his connections, she remained lost to him forever.

Every second since she’d gone he’d felt a gaping hole growing within his chest, an emptiness clawing its way through his soul, eating him alive. Marie was gone and she’d taken all of his goodness with her.

“Just calm down, son,” Bill advised.

“I can’t stay here and listen to this,” Sebastian resumed pacing like a caged beast desperate to be released and devour fresh, helpless prey.

Suddenly he stopped and looked at Carol and Bill.

“I’ll see you at the funeral,” he told them. “I can’t stay here.”

He slammed the door as he left, making it rattle in its hinges.

“Please know how sorry I am,” Dr Simmons looked apologetically at the couple who remained conjoined to one another through their hands. Each time they left the house, which was rare and only to attend to funeral arrangements, Carol clutched desperately to Bill’s hand. She was afraid that if she let go she might lose him too. Everything seemed so fragile without Marie.

“I understand your anger, but you should know that it was also deemed that the tumour would have been inoperable.”

Bill and Carol took little solace from this.

“I’m sorry for your loss, truly I am.” Dr Simmons reiterated.

*

Sebastian stormed out of the hospital not caring who he thrust out of his way. He was moving like a runaway train, fast and hard without a clear destination in sight.

He got in to his car and punched the steering wheel as hard as he could. When his knuckles connected with the toughened plastic they cracked and Sebastian winced but he held in the pain. He liked holding in pain. He gave him some semblance of a control in a world that was increasingly making no sense to him.

Flicking on his engine he used his other hand to wake up his satellite navigation system.

“Where to?” an electronic female voice asked him.

“Bar,” he stated simply. Then added, “nearest one.”

The female voice briskly responded with the location of a bar just two miles from the hospital. Sebastian didn’t even look at the address.

“Go,” he told the navigation system. He just wanted to drink.

*

It was the evening before the funeral and Bill found Carol standing outside the door to Marie’s bedroom. She appeared to be frozen, not moving at all, just staring intently at the wooden door.

“Carol, sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked as he approached her.

“I keep thinking I should go in there,” Carol admitted. “It will still smell of her. But if I open the door I’ll let that out. I want it to always smell of her. I miss her smell.”

Bill came and stood by his wife, placing a hefty arm around her slight shoulders. She usually melted in to him, grateful for the comfort but she remained stiff and wooden.

“If only we’d let Sebastian go and check on her in the bath,” she said, each word brittle with regret and threatening to break as it was released through tense lips.

“If he’d found her sooner she might still be here. We could treat the tumour, bring back our little girl.”

“You can’t think like that,” Bill told her, “it will eat away at you if you think like that. What’s done is done, we can’t change it.”

Carol moved her hand to the door handle where it loitered in mid-air as she contemplated if she was ready to look at the pink duvet, the poster covered walls, the photographs where Marie was smiling at the camera, care free and very much alive. As her hand wavered Bill used his own to guide it away from the handle.

“Let’s deal with tomorrow first,” he whispered to her. “One thing at a time.”