Anita half laughed. ‘Graham will want to save his son.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
Anita shook her head. ‘Don’t listen to that doctor, Lydia. You heard it yourself. They can’t be certain about anything, they don’t know who will recover and who won’t.’
Lydia couldn’t get that documentary out of her head, or Theo’s voice as he’d turned serious and told her he’d want to die rather than live what he termed ‘a half-life’. It was one hell of a request and an opinion not everyone shared, but he’d been totally serious.
‘It’s ludicrous to even suggest giving up on Theo now.’ Anita carried on, adamant. ‘It’s been less than two weeks since the accident. I’ve heard of people waking up from comas decades afterwards. I saw it on a hospital program the other week, a fireman waking up and talking as though he’d only been asleep overnight, not for years. It happens. It can happen to my Theo.’
Lydia wished it were true, she really did. But as Theo was saying that night to her during the documentary, just because she chose not to listen or not to hear anything didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. And Anita was doing the same. She was blocking out any negativity, any words the consultant uttered that she didn’t want to hear and in the end it wouldn’t do any good. Lydia hated that she saw the reality of the situation when usually she saw the nice side, the side that was flowers and smiles and happiness, not the side that was dark and twisty.
‘Theo and I talked about living wills.’ She wasn’t sure how much of what she’d said to the consultant had sunk in with Anita.
‘So you said.’ Her eyes were swollen, red and puffy. ‘And you also said Theo doesn’t have one.’
So she was listening. ‘He doesn’t, but he did say to me if he was ever in a situation like this, he’d…’
‘Go on.’ She was incredulous. ‘I want you to say it.’ She didn’t spit exactly but the venom was there ready to strike. ‘Lydia, I want you to say it. Say the words. Idareyou.’
Graham walked in on the stand-off between the pair. ‘What’s going on?’
Lydia looked at the floor, and then in as few words as possible explained what they were talking about.
‘You know she’s right, Anita.’ Graham, his face stricken with fear and sadness, deigned to address his ex-wife.
‘It’s too early for any decisions!’ Anita’s voice, laced with loathing and resentment at these two people daring to suggest what was best for her son, carried across the room and Graham shut the door to keep the discussion private.
‘We need to think about what he would want, Anita.’ Graham tried again. ‘You’re right, it is too early, but we need to prepare ourselves.’ The man looked devastated. Lydia could see it, but Anita didn’t seem to be able to see past her own pain.
‘How would you know what he would want?’ Anita spat. ‘You live on the other bloody side of the world. Family means nothing to you!’
Lydia looked from one parent to the other and then back again, willing them to leave their personal disagreements out of this.
Lydia knew how to stop them in their tracks. ‘Theo made me promise to switch the machines off if he was ever like this.’ Her words brought a stop to the bickering. A wail came from beside her. ‘Anita, I—’
‘No!’ She yelled through tears. ‘Don’t you say another word. You’ve said enough.’ She stood up, filled a paper cup with water from the dispenser in the corner of the room, downed it in one and dropped the empty vessel in the bin, and ignoring her husband, pulled open the door to the room. ‘I don’t want to hear another thing about it. I’m going to see my son.’
