CHASING LIFE Read online

  They set off in the afternoon under a threatening sky, but eventually the sun pierced through and dispersed the clouds. They left the car on the side of the road and walked over the hill with their picnic rug. The occasional car zooming past could be heard in the distance, but otherwise the afternoon and the fields were all theirs.

  The sweet smell of lavender wafted on the gentle breeze. Insects skipped from flower to flower and formed a chorus of distant sounds, a therapeutic orchestra. The couple picked their location in a secluded hollow and laid the picnic rug. Dave then took out a bottle of champagne and poured them a glass each, along with a box of strawberries covered in dark chocolate. Not a word had been spoken between them until that moment.

  ‘Are you trying to seduce me, mister?’ Julia said, the same words she had uttered the first time he’d taken her there.

  ‘Only if it’s working.’ Dave reached for her and kissed her lips. She lay on her back and they melted into each other.

  A relapse of her leukaemia hospitalised Julia for over a week. She struggled to pronounce words, and her exhausted body wanted only rest. Her doctor warned Dave that Julia’s body would rapidly go downhill and that he should prepare for the worst. Blood transfusions gave Julia some energy and pulled her back from a zombie like state, but their positive effect lessened over time. Dave had to take her home in a wheelchair. Her wilting legs had given up.

  At home he set the table for dinner: chicken soup followed by custard. It was standard fare for them these days. He began to feed his frail wife. She no longer had the strength to chew, and swallowing was a struggle. He patiently encouraged her to try a little more. He wiped the dribble off her chin and offered another spoonful of the warm soup. Dave blinked back tears as he helped her eat.

  ‘My third …’ she gathered strength to speak. ‘My third wish.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Dave pleaded, but Julia moved his hand aside as he brought the spoon up to her mouth.

  ‘I want to see the sunrise.’

  ‘Okay, all right,’ he whispered, simultaneously relieved and saddened by the simplicity of her request. He wiped a tear from her face and kissed her on the forehead.

  Dave too had been losing weight and missing meals. His mouth was full of ulcers from worrying and he was taking medication to ease his anxiety. His appetite was diminished by the pack of cigarettes a day he was smoking. Although he never used to smoke, cigarettes had become an outlet for his nerves.

  The next morning, it was still dark when he woke Julia. He wrapped her in warm blankets and carried her to the balcony that overlooked the garden that she loved. Billions of sparkling stars illuminated the night. He held her in his arms, feeling her heavy breathing subside as she rested her head against his chest, waiting for the show to begin. Gradually, the sparkling lights disappeared. On the distant horizon the sun shyly reached out with golden fingertips to touch the landscape. Julia closed her eyes and smiled as the warmth washed over her face.

  ‘How old are you Dave?’

  ‘I’m thirty-two, darling.’

  ‘And how old am I?’

  ‘You’re twenty-seven.’

  Julia opened her eyes and ran her fingers across his stubble of growth, ‘You have gray whiskers.’

  ‘It’s a sign of wisdom.’ Dave stroked her hair and squeezed her closer to his body.

  ‘Thank you, Dave,’ she whispered.

  The day after they saw the sunrise, Dave realised she had to be put back in hospital. Her withering muscles were no longer obeying her, and she was struggling painfully to breathe. Soon a respirator would be her only defence against death. For the next week, Dave stayed beside her day and night, barely noticing the nonstop stream of family and friends coming to grieve and offer their support. The doctors said that it was the final stage of her sickness. Soon, her internal organs would start failing. She was starting to rely on machines around the clock.

  One morning, a week since she’d been admitted to hospital, Julia woke from her slumber and gestured for him to move closer. Dave put the paper down and moved closer to her. They were alone in her dimly lit room. Stunned and speechless, he stiffened in reaction to her words. His eyes darted in all directions. Not knowing how to respond, he hastily left the room and paced the hospital hallways. She had asked of him the very thing he found utterly unthinkable. He could never agree to it. How had it come to this?

  Dave went outside on the hospital grounds, away from onlookers. His hands shaking uncontrollably, he tried to light a cigarette, but it broke, as did the next one.

  ‘Fuck you!’ he screamed at the lighter, throwing it against the wall. His legs wobbled and he dropped to his knees, falling until his forehead nearly touched the ground. His body racked with silent sobs, he banged his fists on the cold dirt and his knuckles were raw and bloody. Someone from the hospital grounds called out and pointed in his direction. Dave stopped himself, straightened up and got to his feet, wiping the dirt and tears away from his face.

  It felt as though hours passed before he reached his decision. He looked like a man resigned to his fate. There was no one to consult—the choice was left up to him. It was a terrible request, and he would never forgive Julia for it—but he loved her too much to refuse.

  That afternoon Dave gathered courage and asked to speak with Julia’s doctor. He blurted out the only sentence he could manage. ‘She wants to come home; I want her home.’

  The doctor saw the desperation in Dave’s face. ‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘There’s not much we can do for her now. I’m sure it would be fine for a day or two. It will do her good. Make sure she rests and call me immediately if her condition changes.’ It was a grim admission of helplessness. Dave went off to call Julia’s parents. They protested at first, but eventually relented. They begged Dave to call them if her condition changed.

  When night fell, Dave prepared a bath. The entire house flickered with light from the lavender-scented candles Julia had once bought. He’d finally taken them out of their wrapping—they’d been saving them for a special occasion. In the background Julia’s favourite jazz album carried the soft wail of a saxophone. He checked up on her in the bedroom, her figure painfully slight under the sheets. Her body was half the weight it used to be. Dave prepared everything mechanically, shutting out any emotion that might creep in.

  He undressed Julia gently, and then himself, before carrying her into the bathroom, her body pressed against his like that of a helpless infant. He sat down with her in the warm water and rested her head on his chest.

  Dave watched her eyes for a reaction to the warmth of the water, hoping it would ease her pain, but there was only a vacant expression. Julia was in another world. He cradled her in his arms and they rested in the warmth of the water.

  Dave felt as if his chest would burst, and he could no longer hold back the tears. They rolled down his cheeks unchecked. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around her. The beating of her heart was weak and slow. As the candles flickered, ghostly shadows danced on the walls. The music kept playing until the last track and then silence fell.

  ‘I’m ready. Take me home, Dave,’ she had said to him in the hospital that morning. His mind played those words over and over. It was unreal. How did it happen so fast? he asked himself. What else could he do? If he could only reach inside her body and fix her, if he could only draw the sickness from her ravaged flesh and into his he would do it in an instant.

  He felt Julia’s heart stop beating. Her chest heaved, and she closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Julia.’ Dave caressed her face and his cries filled the house. In an instant, his world fell apart.

  Chapter 3

  Julia’s body was buried five days after her death. People came to pay their respects and then returned to their own busy lives. Dave was now on his own and the house was as peaceful as a grave. He wasn’t ready to return to work. The anti-depressants muddled his mind, but bottles of alcohol were a form of remedy. The Scotch wiped out all those memories that came flooding b
ack as soon as a lucid state set in. He hardly ate, and the alcohol bottles were stacking up.

  Dave’s parents pleaded with him to move back with them for a while. They knew their son wasn’t coping. But he would have none of it. He thanked them and sent them on their way. He was an adult, they couldn’t do much. Their worries were so great they were at their wits’ ends about what to do. They resorted to calling him every day and he’d try to convince them he’d be all right—just needed more time. His friends called on him constantly and he’d do the same with them.

  But Dave wasn’t all right. A new routine was in motion. He would wake up in the afternoons and pour a glass of scotch or wine, depending what was at hand. Eat some cereal and go out to the letterbox and check if the paper was delivered. He’d hold onto the paper and dump the mail on his kitchen bench, creating a growing pile. From one room to another he would pace all day long, with his paper in hand. As soon as he’d finish one drink he’d fix himself another. At night, he would have cereal for dinner and fall in a drunken sleep. In the background, the soft wail of a saxophone reverberated throughout the house from Julia’s jazz albums.

  Nearly three weeks had gone by. He decided to look at photos of him and Julia. He sat on the edge of his bed and sobbed as he ran his fingers through the photos, as if trying to feel her in some way. He looked at himself and touched his face. His beard had grown unkempt for weeks and so he finally decided to shave. In the bathroom, he touched his greying whiskers and stared at his face in the mirror. He’d aged so quickly. Bags formed under his eyes and his skin was as dry as cardboard.

  The razer went up and rested against his cheek. Then, he brought it down slowly. He’d forgotten to put shaving cream on. Absentmindedly, he kept shaving in random strokes. He stopped at one spot and stared, seeing Julia’s face from the photo in his mind. A droplet of blood trickled from under the razor and mixed with tears. He was pressing too hard and completely oblivious to it. The stinging pain brought him back and he stopped shaving, wiped himself and threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket. It was overflowing and smelly by now.

  The following morning his house was much noisier. His parents arrived, their faces ravaged with grief and concern. They lectured him and they made him promise that he would make an effort to get back on his feet. What would Julia have said? they asked, aware of the comment’s sharp edge.

  Dave looked as if he were getting the message. They made sense, but he was afraid he wasn’t strong enough to keep himself going. He promised them that he’d see a counsellor and try his best to move on. And he tried to mean it. He was doing it for them now, just as he had been doing it for Julia before. These people were his lifeline. Dave had caused them tremendous worry by going on this self-destructive bender. He’d been so immersed in his own world of sorrow that he hadn’t thought about the people who cared for him. But it wouldn’t last—the routine would surely set in again.

  Mike and Amy, Dave’s oldest friends, came to see him just as his parents were leaving. Dave suspected the timing was organised. Mike was a big man with square shoulders and tree trunk legs. He wasn’t a scholarly man but was certainly gifted with the genes of a natural athlete. A deep booming voice was offset by a soft-spoken tone and a joking personality. His hair was thick and black, and his face creased like a cartoon character whenever he laughed.

  Amy was at shoulder height next to Mike. She was a lithe and energetic woman, the type that could carry a conversation with anyone and talk for hours. Most people didn’t know how to deal with situations they’d never faced before. But that wasn’t the case with Mike and Amy.

  After Dave’s parents left the house Amy could no longer tolerate the niceties, ‘Get your shit together, will you! You look wasted, and you stink of alcohol.’ She gave him a nice whack across the face. It was so hard it startled both of them. But Amy’s face was full of grief.

  ‘She’s right, fuck-head. Are you drinking yourself to death?’ Mike added, not wanting to be left out. He came around to the opposite side of the sofa and they both gave Dave a hug. Amy and Mike were Dave’s childhood friends. They treated each other like siblings. Amy’s feisty nature also made her fiery and stubborn like Julia had been. The large man, Mike was at the end of Amy’s beating stick most of the time. His aloof ignorance drove her crazy, but there was no ill feeling there. No one could stay angry at the goofy Mike. Despite the fact that Amy had a long-term boyfriend and Mike was married, the trio had kept up their habit of hanging out together, just the three of them.

  ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone. I have no idea what I’m going to do,’ Dave’s voice came out laboured and distant.

  ‘You’re not alone,’ Amy took his hand and squeezed it. ‘Give it time, and your life will get back to normal.’

  ‘I don’t care what happens. Not to me anyway,’ Dave continued as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘you’re breathing one day and you vanish the next. Meaningless … all of this, you know? It’s all meaningless.’ He mumbled on and turned his head sideways, ‘what a relief it would be to end it all.’

  ‘Stop that!’ Amy scolded. She shot Mike a frightened look and saw him looking back with the same expression. ‘Don’t speak like that, you hear me?’

  ‘What you’re saying is crazy, man,’ Mike shook him on the shoulder. His towering presence and comforting voice brought a feeling of security. ‘That’s not the Dave I know. Come on mate, you’re not yourself.’

  ‘We had plans. She was a great dance instructor, but I was too busy to pay attention. I was too focussed on the mortgage. Someone had to think about money. It was nearly paid off, did you know? We planned on having kids. Huh. A little bit of me running around. Could you imagine it? Me, a father,’ Dave looked as though he was conversing with the ceiling. His mind wandered back to the day they heard the diagnosis after a routine blood test. From then on everything went wrong. ‘All I’ve got now,’ Dave added flatly, ‘is unpaid medical expenses, a heavily mortgaged house and piles of debts.’

  ‘You’ll find your momentum again and don’t worry about the house. We’ll help you out. I told you that, you’re not alone.’ Amy brushed his hair back off his forehead.

  ‘Snap out of it, man. You’re a fighter. Don’t talk like that,’ Mike’s tone rose a notch, and Dave took notice. ‘Do you think you’re the only one that’s been through such a tragedy? Julia would want you to keep living.’

  Amy looked at Mike in surprise, ‘Yes, this is the last thing she’d want. Find your strength, and get out of this house and these clothes. Clean yourself up and keep your mind busy. You have to get back to work—you must get back to the real world if you want to heal. It’s the only way, Dave.’

  Dave’s mood improved that afternoon, gaining strength from his friends. Amy went into the kitchen and prepared some food while they kept him talking. His gaunt face was slowly getting colour, and they spoke for hours.

  ‘I really appreciate what you guys are doing. Have you heard from Julia’s parents? I should give them a call,’ he said. He hadn’t thought of Julia’s parents in ages and felt bad not contacting them. Not since he’d taken Julia home from the hospital had he spoken to them, and they had avoided him during the funeral. Amy looked up at Mike, who shrugged as if to say, ‘Go ahead and tell him.’ She responded to the cue.

  ‘They’re angry with you,’ Amy said bluntly.

  ‘I don’t blame them,’ Dave answered. ‘They probably think I killed their daughter by taking her home. I’ve got to speak to them. I need to explain that it was Julia’s last wish.’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll believe you,’ Mike said. ‘They’re filing negligence charges against you.’

  ‘What? Julia’s parents?’ Dave straightened up.

  ‘They don’t see it your way. They’re full of grief, Dave. They say that you shouldn’t have taken her home. But it doesn’t matter. The doctors say that she would’ve been a vegetable at best.’ Mike’s mouth fell open when he realised what he’d said. ‘Sorry mate, I didn’t mean to be i
nsensitive.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Dave replied. ‘They can do whatever they want. I’m too tired to think about it.’

  ‘I’m sure Julia didn’t want any of this to happen to you,’ Amy said. ‘She’d make sure you wouldn’t get into any legal trouble.’

  ‘Well, she’s dead now, so I can’t ask her,’ Dave slumped in resignation.

  ‘Did she tell anyone else what her wishes were?’ Mike asked.

  ‘I don’t know. She turned it into a game.’ Dave saw puzzlement on his friends’ faces but couldn’t bring himself to explain.

  ‘What about her will?’ Amy said, after a long pause.

  ‘We didn’t make a will.’

  ‘How do you know she didn’t?’ Amy insisted.

  ‘She would have told me. I’d know.’

  ‘Would she? About wanting to die at home? Maybe you should check up on that.’ She turned her head to the pile of letters sitting on his kitchen bench. Amy’s comment made Dave think. Would Julia have done that? he wondered. In his exhaustion he could no longer concentrate.

  ‘We’ll let you rest,’ Amy said, giving Dave a peck on the cheek.

  ‘Get out and get some fresh air, all right knob-head?’ Mike pointed at him, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘All right,’ Dave saw his friends out and went to the kitchen. He sifted through his letters.

  As it turned out, Amy and Mike were right about Julia’s parents’ bringing charges against him—but also about Julia’s foreseeing something like this happening. Among the pile of junk mail and condolence cards was a letter from a law firm. It asked him to come to their office. Once there, he was presented with Julia’s will, indicating which possessions she wanted him to have and some mementos to go to her parents. More importantly, she had written and signed two letters: one for her parents and another for Dave. He was surprised and wondered how she had managed to do it without his knowing.