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After checking on a few other patients, it’s an hour later when I get to see Roxie. Through the narrow glass panel in the door, I make out her slight figure sitting in one of the armchairs, angled so that she’s gazing out of the window.
Knocking, I go in. ‘Hey.’
I stand there for a moment. Her short hair is still tufty where it’s grown back after surgery, and for a moment, she doesn’t respond. When she turns to look at me, her face is wet with tears. ‘Sorry. Feeling really shit today.’ As the words blur into each other, she starts sobbing.
My heart twists in anguish for her. Sometimes, there are no words of comfort. All you can do is be present, to hold space forsomeone. Sitting down next to her, I’m silent as emotion pours out of her.
‘This is so shit, Jack. So fucking shit… Why can’t I be like everyone else? I’m not a bad person – and I haven’t done anything terrible in my life. So why me?’
But I have no answers to give her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s a victim of some genetic quirk that’s out of her control. Sitting there, I wait until eventually her sobs die out and she’s calmer.
‘Sorry.’ She wipes her face.
‘You have every reason to feel like this.’ I pass her a box of tissues.
‘I want a bloody great drink,’ she says at last, sounding more like the Roxie I know.
‘You want the official line?’ But I’m only pretending to sound disapproving. In her shoes, I wouldn’t care what anyone else said. And at this stage, it’s hardly going to make a difference.
‘Not really. Anyway, I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniels in my bag,’ she says rebelliously.
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’ I pause. ‘So how’s Paul doing?’
Roxie sets her jaw. ‘I gave him his marching orders.’
As Tilly suspected, but I don’t understand. ‘Why?’
She sighs heavily. ‘The prick kept crying all the time. I mean, does he really think I need that? I’m going through enough without having to comfort him as well. At least he’s still going to be around… when this is over.’ Her voice wavers.
‘Don’t be so tough on him,’ I say gently. ‘I think he’s a good guy. He’s only upset because he loves you.’
‘Yeah.’ A single tear trickles down her face. ‘I do know. I’ve been stupid, haven’t I? I better call him.’
‘Yes.’ Getting up, I say it firmly. ‘Do it now. Where’s your phone?’
‘Over there.’ She glances towards the bed.
Going over, I pick it up and pass it to her. ‘Go on, then.’
My world is a strange one – of duality, I’m suddenly thinking, as I leave Roxie to make the call, the co-existence of life and death never more evident than they seem right now. But it’s just one of the things you learn when you work somewhere like this. That life is precious; that the future isn’t a given, for anyone.
It makes it all the more important to live your best life; to tell people how you feel, while you still can. It’s a philosophy I try to live by – one that Lisa shared, or so I used to believe.But Lisa’s gone and I have to stop thinking about her,I remind myself.
On my way home the following morning, I stop at a farm shop for some free-range eggs, on impulse picking up a bunch of spring flowers for my neighbour, Gertie. In her seventies, Gertie owns the house I rent. She’s also occasional feeder of my pet goats.
Back in my car, as I drive, I’m deep in thought. Before Lisa and I met, I’d been fine in my own company. The thought stops me short. A year on, I’m already used to it again. And the girl at the folly was right about another thing. If Lisa really had been the love of my life, she wouldn’t have cheated on me.
Anyway, I’m not alone. I have my goats. It wasn’t until the night she left, I found out Lisa wasn’t so keen on them. For the first time, I’m seriously contemplating that Lisa wasn’t who I’d thought she was, feeling the faintest sensation of a cloud starting to lift. It doesn’t mean I don’t still ache, that I don’t miss her. But it’s layered against the knowledge of something more balanced. Like everyone else who’s been betrayed, I deserve more.
When I pull up outside my cottage, next door, in an ancient sweater that’s seen better days, Gertie’s weeding her front garden.
Getting out of my car, I call out to her. ‘Just the person I want to see.’
Standing up, Gertie winces as she stretches out the kinks in her back. ‘You should be wanting to see a lovely girl your own age, Jack. Not an old codger like me.’
‘You’re not an old codger.’ Going over to her, I thrust the flowers at her. ‘These are for you. A thank you – from me and the goats.’
Taking them with muddy hands, her eyes light up as she looks at them. ‘There’s no need for you to do this. You know I love your goats.’
