The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer (13 page)

He sleeps soundly by my side, whereas I haven’t slept at all. Awful scenarios have been coasting around inside my screwed up head all night. And questions such as: is this real; is he going to die? How can someone who made such sweet love to me on that beach last night, be so ill? And now this: what will that dipstick show up when I sneak out of this room and do that test.

With bare feet I quickly creep into the bathroom, holding the pink box tight. I lock myself inside and sit down on the toilet seat, staring anxiously at the instructions. To think too long about it, is only going to make this worse. I need to just pee on the damn thing and have done with it. It’s not going to kill me (the results might though). I mean, I can’t have a baby. I can’t throw that bombshell at him now. And I’m certainly not good mother material. I can’t even keep my own sister on the straight and narrow.

I arch right over my knees while mumbling to myself. It’s now or never. I jump up, yank the stick from the box, and pray to the gods above while doing my business.

It’s done. I replace the cap and drop the plastic stick on the cistern tank. The blood drains from my face and travels down to my toes. I wash my hands trying not to gag, then gulp and dash out into the hall, unable to take the pressure of waiting.

Two minutes. Two grueling minutes is a lifetime right now. I lean against the wall, nervously biting my fingernails.
Shit. What if Grayson comes out and sees me having a mental breakdown out here?
I push myself off the wall, and quietly re-entre the bathroom.

    
I stay perfectly still, glaring and gritting down my teeth. I don’t even know how long it’s been. Should I look now, or should I deny this ever happened; shut my eyes and throw the stupid test away?

I inhale and stretch out my fingers. With my eyes closed tight, I pick up the stick, and pant several low breaths. I peel open one eyelid and focus. Two blue lines. Not pregnant right. Everything is good here. Who the hell am I kidding? Two damn lines is not good, even I know that. I look at the example printed on the box and it’s confirmed. God, why now. I’m on birth control, this isn’t supposed to happen. The doctor told me it’s basically impossible to conceive, if I religiously take one every day, and I have.  

I plonk myself down onto the edge of the bathtub with tears flowing out of me like a raging tide. I can’t tell him, and I can’t have this baby. I have to do the right thing, which is right now being here for him, making him happy. This, well, this is just going to screw everything up. I won’t allow this to come between us. I won’t.

I wipe my face quickly and pick up all the packaging. I can’t just toss it into the bin, he might see it. Maybe I should burn it.

I hurry downstairs and into the kitchen, frantically looking around for something to destroy it with.

“Good morning.”

Oh god. Grayson is awake, wandering over to me wearing just his sweatpants, yawning. I spin to my side, swiftly open the nearest cupboard, and chuck the test and packaging behind a bottle of water.

“Morning.” I burn up with guilt. “How are you?”

“Tired.” He fills up the kettle letting out a long sigh.

Dammit. I can’t move from this cupboard. What he wants that bottle of water and finds the evidence?

“Coffee?”

“Why don’t you go and sit down, and I’ll make it,” I say anxiously.

“You okay Jen… you look worse than me?”

“I’m great.”

“Well,” he hovers before me and takes me by the waist. “I love you, and I’d like to make you coffee,” he kisses my lips, faint and soft. “Or, are you giving me orders now,” he beams.

All I can think of is that darn test.

“I’m giving you orders. Now go on.” I smile and tenderly push him away. “It always taste better when it’s made for you.”

“Okay boss.” He yawns, kisses my cheek, and thankfully strolls behind the partition wall.

I snatch the test out of the cupboard as the kettle boils. While holding my breath, I run on my tiptoes upstairs. In a crazy panic, I hide the stick in my bag at the bottom of the closet. It won’t be found in there; for now anyway. When the coast is clear, I’ll take it, and pitch it out into the forest.

“Jen, what you doing up there?” Grayson calls from downstairs.

“Nothing… I’m coming.”   

She is oblivious to the fact I know the truth, and I have made no effort to dig deeper, or try and force her to open up to me. I found it while getting dressed four days ago, when one of my shirts fell onto her bag. I wept like a fool on the bed, looking at the two blue lines. A part of me I will never see, hold, or watch grow. The harsh reality is, I can understand why she is doing it. She’s trying to protect me from more suffering. Trying to make it easier for me to let go. 

What do I think of it? Well, I’m not angry, more worried about her. So when it’s time, she will know exactly how I feel. And I’m doing everything in my power, while I still can, to make sure she’s got everything she needs.

Over the last few days, I’ve been secretly arranging things with Henry via email and phone. I’ve also been writing and authorizing correspondence she will receive when I’m no longer here. She’s given me something to prepare for. Something good. So now I’m sat in the best spot on the balcony with my camera, having just finished recording my message to her from beyond the grave.

I press end record and stand, but my legs don’t seem to want to hold my weight today. I’ve trained my body to be fit for years, so I’ll be damned if I can’t use my feet anymore. I won’t become a vegetable. I’m determined to die still fully able to do the basics.

I use the handrail and make my way into the bedroom, holding onto whatever is available. I cough and breathe through my tight chest, and manage to make it to the bathroom.

I lift up the seat and use my hand to lean against the wall.
Hell- I can’t pee now
. I wait, and finally something begins to happen. But this isn’t right, it’s not the typical sight I’d see on a bathroom break. Blood. My throat constricts with fear. Why am I afraid when this is what I asked for: to die freely? Stupid denial had me forget for a time, and now the grim truth is coming thick and fast.

I flush away the sure fire sign I’m on deaths-door, and reside to the fact it never happened. I have to lie to myself, and to Jen. Our love is now based on secrets to prevent pain. It isn’t wrong. It’s a way of shielding against the unavoidable torment.

I make my way downstairs to find Jen struggling to open the lid on a jar of peanut butter. I hope she’s not going suggest that for lunch. I can’t stand the stuff.

I inhale deep as I approach her. But it’s such a labor today to walk normally. My bones feel like playdough, and I’ve got this whole mister soft swagger going on. I take the jar from her hands and she rises up on her toes to kiss my cheek. I wrap my palm around the red lid and twist. First time- complete fail. I bring it into my chest to get more leverage, and screw it off so it flies into the air and rolls across the gray floor tiles. Jeez, for a terminally ill cancer patient, opening a jar is the equivalent to running a marathon.

Jen takes the jar from my trembling hands and slides it across the worktop. “Grayson,” she clutches my forearm. “You need to sit down.”

She begins to guide me into the lounge area, but I won’t allow it. I won’t be cared for, or have my ass wiped by no one. Least of all her. I shake away her grip in anger, and hold onto the back of the couch as sweat gathers on my top lip. I look over my arm to see the unease I’ve just caused her.

“Sorry,” I sigh. “But I don’t need you here for that.”

She frowns, “You don’t have a choice, Grayson.”

“The last bit of dignity I have, needs to stay with me, Jen,” I choke-up.

She rushes over to me. I’ve refused to cry like a baby in front of her. And now, here I am, showing all my weaknesses. Her seeing me like this, and thought of our child that grows inside her, is the worst kind of pain. How can I go on about how I can deal with this, when it’s so clear I can’t?

“Grayson,” she moves my face to hers. “Do you think you’re superhuman, because you’re not,” she says with a strong voice. “You can be scared; it’s only human to be.” She loops her arms around me. “And you’re not alone in this.”

I look at the sad shimmer across her pupils. “Why are you here; why would you want to see this?” I snap. “We could have held onto the memory of what we had… not this.”

“If you’re trying to cause an argument, Grayson, I’m not taking the bait,” she says. “I’m here because there is nowhere else I want to be.” Her hand reaches up to touch my cheek. “I want to be with you… for better or worse.”

“We never got that far, Jen.”

“Formalities don’t matter.” She holds onto my hand. “Now will you sit down?” She tugs me around the side of the couch.

This is the epitome of hell, despair, and pain. And this is the second time today. I crouch down to his weak, damp, cold, trembling body on the bathroom floor, as he struggles to get up to his feet. He grunts, with one hand gripping the sink, and the other pushing against the wall. My heart rhythm booms as I use all my strength to pull his elbow around my neck. He slides his bare feet together and straightens up, wheezing in and out deeply. With the weight of his body resting on my back, I maneuver toward the bedroom. He doesn’t speak. Today is a bad day, and on these days he hasn’t the energy to do much at all.

It all came on so fast. Five days ago he was fine (well, as fine as he could be) then it began during the night. He was sleeping next to me, restlessly. The sheets were wet with his fever, and he twitched and groaned uncomfortably. His temperature was over one hundred, and he was near the convulsing stage. I attempted to call for an ambulance, but he stopped me by snatching and flinging my cell across the room. I had no choice. I left him alone, picked up my cell and called Jenkins out of his earshot.

I sobbed down the receiver as he gave me instructions. First: I had to give him a double dose of the liquid steroids and morphine. And second: to use everything possible to bring down his fever: ice, cold water, and air. It took two hours using cold wet towels all over his body, with all windows open, for it to drop down to a safe level.

When he finally settled, I had to talk to someone, so I called Henry. I asked him to come, but Grayson suddenly appeared in the bedroom doorway, and gave him orders to stay away. I was so angry because he was out of bed. And I was angry because I needed help with this, but he stubbornly refused. He took my hands in his, and insisted he was fine.

With one more strenuous step, I make it to the bed with Grayson. He flops down onto the mattress and curls into a ball on his side. I weep and gaze quietly at his pale torso. He’s lost weight so quickly. In just a week, his muscle tone seems to have wasted away. His skin has this gray transparency to it. And I feel like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He’s being taken away and I can’t stop it. I stoop over and pull the thin white cotton sheet over his body, then make my way out onto the landing.

He hasn’t eaten today, so I’ve made him some chicken soup. I place the bowl and a brown bread roll on a tray, and make my way back upstairs. It smells good and makes my belly bubble. Really, I should eat something too. But for now, I have to make sure he does first.

I enter the bedroom to find him awake and propped up on his pillows. He smiles, and it is so good to see. I swallow as an emotional lump grows in my throat. I place the tray down on the mattress, and sit by him. I can’t help the sudden deluge of tears, they just emerge of their own accord. He sits forward and runs his hand tenderly up my neck.

“Thank you,” his eyes well-up. “For everything.”

I blink slowly. “Will you please eat now?”

“Yes… then I would like you to sit out on the balcony with me,” he says, directly.

An overbearing sensation pushes all the air out from my lungs, as he slides and lifts the tray onto his lap. He’s being so clear, and there is a resolution in his eyes I really don’t like. He is as he was when we first met. No sign of pain or sickness, just an abysmal validation that he’s now ready to go. Is it possible he knows? Has a higher power given him the strength to see the end through?

He slurps up a spoonful of soup and hums out, as though it’s his last meal and he’s enjoying it greatly. I need to get help. I can’t do this anymore. I stand up, but he grabs my hand to stop me.

“Jen?” he squints.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” I grin fleetingly and hurry to the door.

With speed I bound down the stairs. I won’t do this. I can’t watch him welcome death so damn willingly. I grab my cell and call Henry. It rings and rings, until finally he answers.

“Henry,” I utter in panic. “Please can you come,” I snivel.

“Jen what is it?”

“I can’t do this, Henry.” I rub my eyes. “I need you to get Jenkins here, we need to… to do something.”

“Jen, just calm down,” I hear the upset in his tone. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.” He hangs-up.

I drop my phone on the table and feel a twinge in my belly. A twinge of the life growing inside me that I can’t bear to think about. I blow out, rub my face, and unwillingly make my way back to Grayson.

I walk through the door and look up. The bed is empty, and the soup and bread have been consumed. I peer through the glass doors. He’s lying on the large lounger, watching the sun setting over the treetops. In slow-motion, I make my way out into the still silent air.

He beams an affectionate smile and pats the lounger for me to join him. I can hear a rasp with every breath he takes and I freeze.

“Jen,” his fingers wiggle for me.

Teardrops fall over each of my lids as I shake my head at him.

“I want to talk to you, Jen,” he says, softly. “Lie with me,” he reaches out.

My trembling fingers wrap around the cool clammy pale skin of his hand, as I lie down in the fetal position next to his body. He tucks my hair behind my ear, as he gazes into my eyes with an awareness of what’s to come.

“Now, this isn’t so bad is it?” he says. “It’s such a beautiful night… I want to see it with you.” He looks up to the sky as a crease of pain courses across his forehead. “I don’t want you to be unhappy, Jen,” he gulps. “Just be with me a while longer.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t fight it,” he places his hand on my wet cheek. “And I have tried… for you and the great future I visualize of… of what’s to come.” His lips press as his body flinches. “But it’s too painful,” he says in a breath. “The only strength I have left, is the memory I keep of you.”

“You can’t,” I weep.

His adam’s apple journeys down his black V-neck. “I’m complete now, Jen,” his pupils glaze over with pain. “And that’s all I required from the moment I first laid eyes on you all those years ago. I have experienced a lifetime with you in only months.” I kiss his cold lips, and squeeze my eyes so tight my head hurts.

I place my forehead on his. “I love you, Grayson.”

A tear voyages over his cheekbone. “I’ll be with you always, Jen…” he coughs, painfully. “I want you to live for us, and remember what we have will never burn out,” his hand presses firm on my face. “I’ll watch you,” he chokes and my heart races in fear. “I’ll be right there, next to your star,” his lips touch mine with overwhelming love.

I lie my head on his chest, against the calm beat of his heart, to hear the agonizing crackles of his faltering lungs. His raspy breaths ruffle my hair and I’m petrified any moment they will stop. My tears spill freely, pooling under my cheek. I shut my eyes as his hand sweeps gently over the base of my neck. I won’t let him go. I will fight tooth and nail to keep his soul in this body.