Almost Forever Page 17

  ‘I’ve searched online and I’ve read about a clinic in the States that uses electro impulses to stimulate the brain. I think we should look into it.’

  He makes no comment, then looks behind me, at his brother in a coma. A veil of sadness descends over Harry’s face. He swallows the bite he was chewing and I see his jaw tensing. When he turns to me again, there is resolution in his eyes.

  ‘Show me the website,’ he says and I pick up my phone and type the hospital name in the browser.

  We look at the details together, discussing the case studies they’ve published.

  ‘It looks encouraging, Fran – maybe you just found the miracle we were looking for. I’ll contact them as soon as I get home,’ he says, giving me the phone back.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say gratefully. He covers my hand with his and I know, like always, that we are in this together.

  ‘All for one, and one for all,’ he whispers, citing Dumas.

  I smile at the memory of the younger version of us, when we compared ourselves to the Three Musketeers. We had an unspoken pact, a credo we lived by too: ‘No one will be left behind and we’ll always have each other’s back.’

  I take a deep breath knowing that Harry won’t stop searching, hoping, and trying every avenue that may speed up Paul’s recovery.

  ‘So …’ Harry says, breaking the silence. ‘Are you going to eat that?’ he asks, pointing at my untouched sandwich.

  ‘You can have it. I had a muffin about an hour ago,’ I lie. ‘It ruined my appetite. It was delicious though.’

  I don’t know if Harry believes me, or he just pretends to. Either way he doesn’t make any further comment and takes my plate, quickly devouring my dinner as well. I watch him eat with gusto and I feel even more nauseous. Even if I’ve only eaten a few mouthfuls of bread, and even if my stomach has always been one of my most vulnerable parts, I’m starting to think that I may have an ulcer. Although I’m not discounting the possibility of an infection of some sort, because, lately, the only relief I get from the constant discomfort in my tummy is from throwing up.

  In the effort of minimise those unpleasant visits to the toilet, I’ve stopped eating properly and even drinking anything except water. It’s getting easier to lie about my lack of appetite, because Harry, and Georgie, and Albert, and all the other visitors who drop in and out the room, are too busy fussing over Paul, or adjusting the many vases with colourful flowers, or moving about the hundreds of ‘get well soon’ cards, or trying to find a place to tie another floating balloon, to keep track of my meals.

  ‘This room looks like the student house you used to live in, after one of your epic parties,’ I say, unsure if that’s a good thing or not. There are no free surfaces left and the scent of the blooming flowers is quite overwhelming. It’s better than the eau-de-hospital that I can smell under it, but only just. Harry is looking around, evaluating the condition of the room. He takes a sip from the can of soda in front of him.

  ‘What are you suggesting we do?’ he asks.

  ‘Tidy up a little? Maybe ask the nurses if they want to take some of the flowers to other patients who don’t get quite so many visitors? I could take the balloons and the bag of soft toys I’ve already packed away in that cupboard down to paediatrics. I was thinking of buying a nice box and starting to rotate the cards, so we can have somewhere to put the books I want to bring over …’ A clear plan of action is forming in front of my eyes as I speak.

  Harry smiles. ‘All great ideas. Let me know what you want me to do.’

  ‘You are properly house-trained these days,’ I tell him while I return to sit in my usual spot next to Paul.

  ‘I had to learn, once I moved out of home and left behind the maid, cook, and butler, but it wasn’t by choice,’ Harry says, collecting the crumbs from the table into his palm and carefully throwing them in the bin in the corner.

  ‘I remember when we were teenagers and you always did your best to get out of as many chores as possible.’

  ‘Ah! The good old days,’ he says, pausing for effect and looking at the wall with dreamy eyes. ‘I remember the day of our first end-of-summer party in St-Tropez … you’d just turned eighteen, right?’ There is laughter in his words when I nod. ‘Yeah, I remember it well. Lots happened that summer. Paul got in trouble more than I did, which was a nice change for once,’ he says, his tone betraying his affection for his brother.

  I make no comment but I know exactly what he’s referring to. I just keep combing my fingers through Paul’s hair without looking up at Harry.

  ‘I guess you were worth it,’ he says genuinely and my heart swells at his compliment. Memories are flowing back and we are both quiet for a second, and when he steps closer and kisses the top of my head softly, I can’t stop wondering if I hurt him when I disappeared with Paul without a warning.

  ‘I’m off then,’ he says before I can find the right words to ask him. ‘I’ll call the clinic in Baltimore tonight and see if they can give me any information on their experimental trial. Hopefully, I’ll have an update in the morning.’ He smiles when I finally look up at him.

  ‘Thank you,’ I answer back with a smile. He steps next to me and bends slowly towards Paul. ‘Right, bro. Be good, and I’ll see you later, okay?’ he says to him, patting his hand gently.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ he bids me, walking to the door.

  ‘You too,’ I say in return and watch him as he leaves the room.

  Alone with Paul, I start to feel the strain of all the long days and the even longer nights that preceded this one and the many that will certainly follow.

  The room makes me feel slightly claustrophobic, maybe because it’s so stuffy, maybe because it’s fixed into a reality that resembles limbo. I close my eyes and lower my forehead over Paul’s arm to escape the harsh reality of the past weeks.

  I let Harry’s remark, about what happened that summer eight years ago, take me back, once again into the past.

  ***

  Josephine’s asthma attack the day before had been quite taxing for her, but she slept well during the night and was getting better by the hour. Still, I was so worried that I went to check on her many times during the morning. Eventually, Josephine told me, sweetly but firmly, to leave her alone so she could have some sleep. Without the excuse to keep an eye on her, I had nothing to keep my mind occupied. I was too nervous to sit and wait for Paul to arrive, but I didn’t have the will to do anything else in the meantime, so I ended up walking aimlessly around the villa not knowing what to do with myself.

  I’d texted Paul last night and the fear of his reaction to my message was terrifying. The day of my birthday party, he asked if I loved him. That message was my answer.

  I just hoped my three words would be enough to give me a chance to open my heart to him. The sun was shining, and when I opened the side door I heard the waves breaking rhythmically on the shore. I walked out into the garden, stretching my arms and inhaling deeply the sea-scented breeze. The grass was soft under my feet and lush, even if the summer had been ferociously hot. When I reached the big old tree near the wall, I lifted one hand and placed it on the ridged, uneven surface of its trunk. I felt better already.

  ‘Hello, Faraway Tree,’ I said, thinking of one of my favourite books by Enid Blyton. ‘Please take me to the Land of Magic Medicines. I need something to fix Josephine’s lungs,’ I said, wishing with my eyes closed and a hopeful smile.

  Just as I was about to climb up onto one of the lower branches, I heard steps behind me. I didn’t have to look to know that Paul was there; I could just feel his presence.

  I swallowed the lump stuck in my throat, stabilised my wobbly legs, entwined my shaking fingers, and straightened my spine, preparing for the encounter.

  ‘Hi,’ he said and his voice shook my system. I knew this moment was coming, I knew I had to face Paul at some point, I knew I had taken a chance and now I was free-falling and he was the only one who could stop me from crashing to the ground.

  ‘I
got your text,’ he said, his voice as quiet as the summer wind.

  I stood where I was, without turning to look at him. He stepped nearer to the trunk and then effortlessly pushed himself up, sitting on one of the largest branches nearer to the ground. His legs were dangling over the side.

  ‘Would you like to come up?’ he asked, extending his hand to me.

  I finally allowed myself to look at him. My stomach tightened in a painful twist. He was even more handsome than when I saw him last only a few weeks earlier. He looked less tense now. His eyes were a deep calm blue and I was immediately lost in them – as I always was. His hair had grown back like he used to have it. Floppy, and way too long on his forehead. I liked it that way better. I was pleased he’d kept his stubble as well. It gave him an aura of rebellion and freedom. I’d missed him so much, my heart hurt like an open wound dabbed with the salt of fear.

  I took his outstretched hand and asked, ‘Have you seen your mum?’ He kept my hand in his for a moment, while we looked at each other quietly.

  ‘Yes, she was asleep,’ he answered eventually. ‘Her breathing seemed a bit …’ He didn’t finish the sentence but I nodded in understanding. He seemed glad not to have to go into detail. ‘Ready?’ he asked and then pulled me up. When I landed in his arms, time froze, paused for a few seconds just for the two of us to reconnect. I eventually settled on the branch next to him, and looked down at my shoes, because they were the safest place for my gaze to be.

  He shifted his body so that I was now sitting in between his legs and he touched my hand softly with his. The sun was still high in the sky even though it was late afternoon. Its warmth was radiating a pink glow, which, softened by the leaves above, made the contours of everything around us look slightly blurry.

  ‘When did you arrive?’ I asked him with a neutral tone, trying to hide the truth of what was warring inside me.

  ‘Half an hour ago,’ he responded without adding any more details, as if they didn’t matter. ‘Did you mean it?’ he said without further preamble. I knew he was referring to my text. I turned to look at him, ready to place my heart in his hands, hoping he would take good care of it.

  ‘Did you mean it, Fran?’ he asked again, squeezing my hands gently. ‘I need to know.’

  I stared at him. There was so much to say, so much to explain that I didn’t know where to start. So I took a moment, lifted my eyes to the leaves dancing in the breeze, and when I returned to look at him he asked again, ‘Yes or no?’

  I nodded, while staring at him, trying to find the courage to say the words again while we faced each other. ‘Yes, Paul. I meant it.’

  Without taking his eyes off mine, he lifted his hand and stroked my hair gently. He traced my cheek with his fingertip. Almost as if he worried that I had changed my mind in the past few seconds he said, ‘You love me?’

  ‘I love you,’ I answered.

  He skimmed over my lips with his thumb.

  ‘You love me,’ he said again, then lifted his hands to frame my face.

  ‘I don’t have the strength to be away from you any more, Fran,’ he said, unable to keep his emotions out of his words. ‘This last year almost killed me. These last few weeks, when I thought we had reached the end, before we even I started … I …’

  ‘Me too …’ I said to him, understanding exactly what he meant without the need to hear him say it. ‘Me too,’ I repeated.

  We kept looking at each other and then, with his eyes still deeply focused on me, he leant forwards and very slowly kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, then one side of my lips.

  ‘It’s always been you in my dreams,’ he said, making me shiver. I had to close my eyes, overwhelmed by the moment. Shivers were still running down my spine when he pressed his soft lips gently against mine, taking my breath away. When he moved away slightly, I tilted my chin up searching for them again, while our hearts were beating in unison.

  ‘I love you,’ I whispered.

  He moved painfully closer again before murmuring, ‘I love you too,’ and then brushing his lips over mine again. The kiss deepened this time and the impact was everything I had remembered, except that now, the strength of our true feelings made it even more intense. I felt immediately dizzy. Blood rushed to my head so fast that I worried I was about to faint. His hands moved up, against my back, and I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. My arms were around his neck and we savoured each other, as if we had been starving souls finally replenished by each other’s love. He was here, with me, and he loved me as much as I loved him. Forever.

  ‘Oh, Fran, I’ve spent the past eleven months dreaming of this moment.’ He smiled, looking straight into my eyes while I tried to calm the tsunami of emotions inside me.

  Looking at him, in front of me, I started to believe I wasn’t dreaming. I started to believe this wasn’t just a fantasy I’d made up in my mind. After such a long separation, after having put so much effort into pushing him away, it was a struggle to accept this was actually happening.

  How can two people be separated for as long as we had and not grow apart? I thought, considering how easily we were able to draw emotions out of each other. I could only assume that our love was just so deep, it bridged our hearts across time and space and all other dimensions.

  My breathing was shallow when he moved away from me. I smiled and gently pulled him back to me. When his lips were back over mine, I felt emotions I didn’t know existed springing from inside me. It was a mix of love and longing and fear and happiness and anxiety. Above all, above everything else, there was this intrinsic, incommensurable love, which was creating pure energy inside me. A heat source that burned me inside out.

  I felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs and I could now live off the feelings inside me, and with my kisses I would show him my certainty about us. He lifted my hands to his lips and kissed them delicately.

  ‘I love you, Fran. Always have, always will.’ He said the words quietly, resting his forehead on mine. His declaration sliced through all my layers of insecurity and all my doubts with a painless, clean cut. ‘Please tell me again that you love me; please say that you want to be with me. I need to hear you saying it.’ His pleading voice made me want to soothe his thoughts, his heart.

  ‘I love you too, Paul. I really do, and I want to be with you more than anything else in the entire world,’ I said, and as we looked at each other in silence, we exchanged a promise that no words could have expressed more clearly.

  Time no longer existed for us and this moment could have been in the past that we shared as well as the unexplored future, ahead of us.

  This was the circle that was finally complete. This was the beginning of forever.

  He found my lips again and we kissed and spoke endearments, for what felt like a very long time. We stayed, up in the tree, as if we were worried that this spell might be broken if we returned too quickly to the real world.

  When the sun lowered itself on the horizon Paul said, ‘Come to my room tonight. I can’t be without you for that many hours.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, lowering my head to his shoulder, looking at the future ahead with a smile. He kissed my forehead while he held my shaky hands.

  I heard his phone vibrating in his pocket so I straightened up and asked, ‘Are you going to answer?’

  ‘Nope,’ he said, kissing the top of my head. ‘I’m not ready to return to the real world. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. I’ll call them back later,’ he answered and I realised he thought this moment was so incredibly perfect that nothing other than an emergency was worth spoiling it for. Unfortunately, that was exactly what was about to happen.

  I heard Harry’s voice shouting my name just a second before he appeared under the tree. I looked down at him in alarm, shocked by the look in his eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ Paul asked sharply.

  ‘They are taking her to the hospital.’ Harry’s breathing was heavy with worry, his voice tight and a little frantic. �
��The ambulance is already on its way.’

  Paul jumped off the branch and then looked up, offering me his hand. When my eyes met his, I knew he feared the worst, just as I did. My heart filled with empathy for Paul and Harry. She was a mother to me too and I knew exactly how they felt, but she was their mother first and they would need me to be strong. So I slid off the tree with Paul holding me in his arms, pushing back the fear. ‘She’ll be fine,’ I whispered in his ear while he put me down. ‘We’ve been here before and she’s always pulled through,’ I said. ‘She’ll be fine. I know she will.’

  He nodded, squeezing me against his chest, and right then I felt his doubts. As soon as he released me, I turned to Harry and pulled him into my arms. He was shaking. I held him to me for a moment longer, wishing that I could somehow calm his pain and ease his fear with my affection.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Paul said, gently breaking us apart.

  ‘Are you ready for this?’ he asked, moving his gaze from me to Harry and then back again.

  ‘Yes.’ We nodded.

  ‘And you?’ I said, touching his face with my hand.

  ‘As much as I’ll ever be,’ he answered, and with those words he took my hand in his. I turned to Harry and took his hand in mine and, with our fingers entwined, we ran to Josephine.

  ***

  Albert went in the ambulance with Josephine; Paul drove the rest of us.

  The beautiful landscape of the French Riviera was passing by, while we stared ahead in silence. With the sun setting behind us, we braced ourselves for what was to come. At least we knew the routine, which was always the same, and over the years we’d perfected our moves.

  Firstly, we’d have to wait. That was the hardest part for me. I was better at ‘doing’ at ‘being practical’ than just sitting there staring at the walls. Luckily, the waiting part was never that long. Once she was stable and could receive visitors, we’d take turns to stay with her. Over the weeks she would spend in hospitals, we’d pass each other in the corridors, tired and strained. We’d sit shoulder to shoulder in the same quiet waiting room, but, mostly, we’d spend the time hovering over Josephine as she slept. She was always so tired because every breath she took was a battle.