“You can’t walk away from this, Owen. I need your help. I’ve given you power of attorney. Please.”
“You want me to sign a paper that’s basically going to kill you.”
“Owen... I’m dying. You know I am. I’m not trying to be heartless. I’m trying to spare you heartache. If we can just accept it, we can be happy. Sure, cry about it, but we can move on together in the time we have left. I don’t want you to remember me this way.”
“As what way?”
“Someone that’s less than what they were meant to be,” she said, sitting up. “That you have to wait on hand and foot. That holds you back from your dreams. I don’t want to need someone to take care of me.”
“This is what love is.”
“No,” Tegan replied softly, tears welling in her eyes. “This is pity from a kind and beautiful soul, sweetheart. Please... help me.”
“Don’t make me do this... I CAN'T!" As the words left his mouth, he slapped the wall so hard Tegan jumped with the force and sound, weeping at his anger, his frustration. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing himself to calm down. “Do you understand what you’re asking? You want to die?”
“No... I want tolive,” Tegan replied, tears falling down her cheeks, lips trembling. “But not like this. They took our baby to save me instead and look at me. This isn’t living anymore. Not if the results turn out bad. I want to go on walks with you. I want you to read to me until I fall asleep. I want my own bed. I want us to be together. This beat me... but I don’t want it to beat us, and it is. I’m so sick of this place. I just want my own bed and I want you. I’m not asking you to help me die. It’s the last thing I want. I’m asking you to help me live.”
Owen watched her cry for over a minute. Nothing more was said between them before he walked out to the nurses’ station. He took his time and asked the head nurse for Tegan’s approvals and permissions, in case she was put on life support. He was presented with the form and a pen. As he filled it, the paper had more and more drops of salt fall from Owen’s face. He held in a breath as he came to the signature box.
He had signed thousands upon thousands of things over the years. Action figures to body parts. Never had he dreaded doing so until this moment. As the pen lifted from the box, now containing his signature, the strength in his legs failed him, and he crumbled at the desk. He sat in a warped cross-legged position with his head buried in his hands as two nurses rushed to his side. They asked what was wrong, but it was nothing they could help with.
He had just destroyed any last chance of saving Tegan’s life.
* * *
“You wanna talk about it?” Fiona asked from behind Owen. They were in the gym Owen had rented for his lead up to the fight. He had left the hospital after Tegan had fallen asleep. They had been told the results would be late. There had been a technical glitch which prevented them from coming through the system. Owen didn't know if there was an actual glitch or not, but either way, he knew the reason the results were going to be late. Just another way to fuck with him. Put him off his game.
“No. I’m fine,” he replied, stripping off his shirt and pulling on his training singlet.
“I’m just saying you don’t look fine...”
“I said I’m fine. Are we doing this or what?”
Owen saw the slight hurt in Fiona’s face.Shit. A feeling of guilt crept into his system, but he turned and walked out of the locker room. He hadn’t told her what Tegan had asked him to do. He just had to get away from the hospital.
Weights and bags. Hard work and sweat. Where he could punish his body. Where things made sense. Fiona was already here, working, as ever, on her notes and studying tapes of both his and Diaz’ fights over the past year. She had done so much without being asked, but he hadn’t thought to ask her how things were going. He hadn’t cared.
He had just wanted to hit something. He’d moved past her without a word, and she had followed him into the locker room after a few minutes, obviously concerned by his silence or body language. He hadn’t felt it was right to inform her of what Tegan asked. That should be up to Tegan, but it hadn’t hurt Owen any less.
Now he moved towards the heavy bag and unloaded on it. Again and again. As his father always used to say, when Owen was a young boy sitting on his lap, and Robert would describe his fights, he hit it with so many lefts, it was begging for the right.
“Gaz...” Fiona started, but Owen ignored her. Gritting his teeth against his mouthguard, he didn’t let up his fury. “Gaz, we need to go over strategy.”
“Tomorrow,” he grumbled, twisting his hips, striking with knees.
“Gaz. Stop!”
He turned on her and ripped his mouthguard out just as Robert came into the room sporting training pads, looking up at the two of them in surprise. “You and dad want me to train, right? No distractions? Work hard. Well. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Gaz... what is wrong...”
“Would you stop!? I’m not supposed to bring outside shit into training. I need to focus, right? That’s all I’m trying to do. Can you please just help me, and let it go?”
“Focus? That’s a laugh. You haven’t been focused for months,” Robert spat. “Don’t forget she’s the only reason you even have a shot at the title.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Owen said as Robert joined Fiona. “I’m just doing what you always told me. Burying it.”
“Do you think this is a game? That we’re all playing with you? You’ve never shown fear before, but now is the time to start. I can only say the same thing so many times. You call it walking away. I call it not wanting to bury my boy,” Robert shook his head and looked at the ground.