I gently stroke Maddie’s hand and smile sadly at her. ‘I love you Maddie. Always.’
Tears start flowing from her eyes. She doesn’t attempt to wipe them away.
‘Besides Maddie, you know me, I won’t roll over and let anybody tell me that this is how it is, and I can never change it. The statistics are clear. Less people die of cancer than of cancer treatments.’
‘I was so sad, I could not sleep last night, Layla.’
I bite my lip trying to think of something I can say to make it better. ‘Remember that time when we were kids and that really good-looking guy, what’s his name again? Oh yes, Marcus, invited us to that party?’
She frowns. ‘Yeah.’
‘Remember you wanted to go.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And I didn’t because my gut told me something was wrong.’
‘And you were right because that party got raided and all those kids got into big trouble,’ she finished slowly,
‘That same instinct is telling me now to stay away from the doctor’s office.’
A new look of understanding comes into Maddie’s kind, dear face.
THIRTY-NINE
Layla
I look at the calendar and smile with satisfaction. I have made it to four and a half months. There are only 40 days left. The baby’s heartbeat is strong, my skin is glowing, and I have more energy than I have ever had.
At times like this, I feel as if everything happens for a reason. Because this happened to me, Jake bought an organic farm and now the whole family has organic vegetables all year round.
My mother and I have learned so much about things we would never have thought to even think about. We no longer eat wheat or processed foods or anything with preservatives in it. At first it was difficult. But my mother is a culinary genius. Now she even makes ice cream using organic ingredients.
I take out the marijuana leaves that have been soaking for five minutes in water, and put them into the centrifugal juicer and switch it on. For the fifth time today I drink the concoction. I follow it with a spoonful of organic bicarbonate soda mixed in with maple syrup. It is Nora’s day off and I am cooking. It’s nearly time for BJ to return.
Ever since that night Jake found him in the caves and drove him home he is a completely different man. I remember I went out into the living room to meet him when I heard the car and I saw him stumble like a drunk over the threshold. But when he saw me, he took me in his arms and, as sober as a judge said, ‘I love you, Layla. Use me as the rock you lean on.’
After that he was unshakeable in his support. He did everything in his power to assist me, care for me and protect me. Sometimes though, I’d catch him looking at me with a yearning expression. Then he would smile almost sadly and say, ‘Sometimes I can’t believe how beautiful you are.’
I have a surprise for him today. He insists on eating the same food as me, but today I have brought him a lovely steak from a grass-fed, free-range cow. I called Bertie earlier and she gave me his favorite recipe. ‘Make sure you put a knob of butter at the very end. It gives a beautiful rich taste to the meat.’
When I hear his car drive up, I heat the skillet and add a drop of oil. I drain the water from the potatoes and begin to mash them. I lay the meat on the hot metal. The sizzle is terrific. I add butter and milk and lightly mix them into the mashed potatoes as BJ walks through the door.
‘Wow! Something smells good,’ BJ says coming towards me. He nuzzles my neck. ‘And that’s not even taking the steak into the mix.’
I laugh.
‘So what’s with the steak?’
‘It’s for you,’ I say simply.
‘I told you. We’re both eating the same food.’
‘Just this once. I’ve gone to all the trouble.’ I untangle myself from his arms, go to turn the meat and drop in some crushed garlic in the potatoes.
He watches me with folded arms.
‘Go on. Sit down.’ He sits at the table. It’s set with salad and his drink. He takes a sip. I put the knob of butter into the pan and shake it slightly. My mouth actually begins to water. I haven’t had meat in so long. I pull the pan off the fire to let the meat rest and begin to plate up. The mashed potatoes go underneath, with the sliced steak resting on top. I carry the plate to the table and put it in front of BJ.
I sit next to him. ‘Bon appetito.’
He watches me pick up my fork and dip it into my salad of greens, sprouts, seeds, avocado, and tomatoes. Then he sets half his meat onto my plate.
I look up at him. I am so tempted. I can smell it and my stomach is growling. ‘I’m not really supposed to,’ I say.
‘It’s just a tiny bit. It won’t hurt you. You can have an extra helping of vitamin C or whatever tonight.’
I smile. ‘OK. It is grass fed and organic. So it can’t be that bad.’
We both cut a piece of meat and put it into our mouths at the same time. It melts in my mouth.
‘This,’ BJ says, ‘is the most delicious piece of meat I have ever tasted. Other than your pussy, of course.’
I laugh, but he is right. We savor it slowly. Afterwards, we walk into the forest. In late summer it is cool and beautiful. It is quiet now, but in the bushes and undergrowth there are badgers and foxes and deer. We follow the little path towards the clearing where BJ’s gardener has made a gazebo that he has covered with climbing roses. At this time of the year the roses are on their last showing. The area around it is full of petals giving off the last of their dying scent. We enter the gazebo and sit down.
It is so peaceful. For a long time we say nothing.
But there is something I want to confront him with. Something I must make BJ face. Ever since we found out about the cancer, BJ has never touched my stomach. Even when we are making love, he will avoid touching my belly. I unbutton my shirt from the bottom up and taking his hand, guide it towards my exposed belly. I feel the resistance and rigidity of his hand and look up to him beseechingly.
‘Please,’
He relents and allows me to put his hand on my stomach. On contact his eyes darken. We stare into each other’s eyes. Kick, Tommy, kick, I pray. There is no one else in the world but he and I. And then a kick. A hard one. We both feel it. Someone else has just entered into our world. We smile at each other. Our eyes filled with wonder.
‘He’s saying hello,’ I say.
‘Oh God!’ BJ mutters suddenly.
‘That’s our Tommy,’ I say.
‘That’s our Tommy,’ BJ repeats, his voice choked with emotion.
He pulls the edges of my shirt across the bulge of my stomach and carefully drags the buttons through the holes.
‘Come on, Princess. Let’s get you and little fella home.
FORTY
Layla
“Life should be lived to the point of tears.”
—Albert Camus
There are only 20 days left on my calendar. It’s still dark as I descend the villa’s staircase, holding on to the rough, tree trunk banisters. I cross the beautifully decorated space. It has a stunningly sculpt
ed dining table, giant seashells hanging from the ceiling, a simple but elegant arrangement of tiles and stones and wood seals on the open windows. Soundless on my bare feet I make for the sliding doors. This is a holiday villa in Tulum, Mexico that BJ has brought me to. It used to belong to the drug lord, Pablo Escobar.
‘Why Mexico?’ I asked excitedly in the plane.
‘It’s a surprise,’ he said with a smile.
And at midnight I found out. He had hired people to hang strings of blue lanterns all over the beach and a Mariachi band to play. There was a jug of non-alcoholic Margaritas on a mat on the beach.
‘Don’t you recognize it?’ he asked.
And it hit me then. Of course, he was making my favorite song come alive. Drinking Margaritas by a string of blue lights under the Mexican sky while listening to the Mariachi playing at midnight. Are you with me?
I cried then.
As I walk on the white sand it flows up through my toes. I stand at the water’s edge holding my belly. ‘Look where we are, Tommy.’ The cool morning breeze blows my hair from my face. I let the water rush up my toes and blanket my feet. It is incredibly sensuous. I am still standing there with my eyes closed when BJ comes to stand next to me. I look up at him. His eyebrows are drawn in a straight line making his face full of dark pools of shadow.
‘You looked like a mermaid from the window. Something so beautiful I couldn’t fathom touching,’ he says softly.
I smile at him. ‘Come and sit with me. It’s so peaceful here.’
We walk away from the water’s edge, sit on the white sand, and in perfect silence watch the sunrise together. Things are so different now. Every minute we spend together is like a precious gift. We were among the living. We had to do this. So we did it.
Red. Orange. Yellow. The sky becomes an amazing kaleidoscope of color. Next to us, there is a discarded Coke can. That, too, is life. I turn towards BJ. His face is golden, some shades of red.
‘I love you, BJ.’
He leans down as if he wants to see who I am and looks deeply into my eyes.