“Okay,” I said.
“I just think I should be with Jack when he’s recovering.”
“Do you think they’ll go for it?”
“I don’t know. They do offer compassionate leave in some situations, but that’s for, well, you know... I know some people have taken unpaid sabbaticals, so I was thinking I might be able to do something like that.”
“Right, that could work, I suppose.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “So you don’t agree?”
“No, I do, yes... I haven’t really thought about it to be honest. But are you sure it’s necessary? I’m going to be here every day, when he’s off school after the operation. And there’s the money, as well. Would we manage without it?”
Anna looked at me sharply, her cheeks flushed with the wine. “I don’t know, Rob. I hope so. And if you’re so worried about the money, maybe you should speak to Scott. Because if he sells, that’s half our income gone.”
I didn’t say anything, choosing my words carefully. I knew what she thought. That I was being lazy and irresponsible, that I wasn’t doing enough to convince Scott not to sell the company to the Chinese. She had always worried about money, even with us both earning. London was expensive, she said, and we were living beyond our means. We weren’t saving, and now Jack’s school fees were mounting up.
“So have you spoken to him about it?” she asked.
“Yes, of course I have, but I’m not sure there’s much I can do. I don’t have the energy to argue with him anymore.”
“Great,” Anna said, looking away. “You don’t have the energy.” She shook her head. “You’re amazing sometimes, Rob. You don’t work and I do, and all I want to do is to take some time off so I can spend more time with Jack, and then you make me feel guilty about it.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”
Anna stood up and took a pair of Jack’s trousers off the radiator. “Anyway, maybe you’re right, maybe we can’t afford it.”
“I’m not giving up on Scott yet, though,” I said.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not the best time to talk to him about it, but I’ve made a real breakthrough on the drones thing. In fact, I think that this Chinese company might be able to help.”
Anna sighed and picked up the pile of clothes.
“What?”
She rubbed her forehead as if she had a migraine coming on. “Please don’t start on about the drones thing again. You know I support you, but it’s been more than five years now, and you still don’t have anything to show for all the work you’ve put in.”
“I get that,” I said, her words stinging a little. She was like this about the maps, overly cautious, convinced it was a fool’s errand. “These things take time. And do you remember how it was with the maps? Nothing for ages, and then suddenly I got money. So I’m not going to throw in the towel with the drones yet.”
Anna shook her head and sat down next to me on the sofa. “You always think that everything’s going to be okay,” she said, half smiling, shuffling closer to me.
“Sure,” I said. “What’s the alternative? Thinking that everything is going to be shit?”
“True,” she said, putting her feet up on the sofa and then resting her head in my lap.
She slept like that once, our backs against the promenade on Brighton beach. A dirty weekend in a guesthouse near the sea. Still so new to each other, we spent most of our time in bed that weekend. It had started to get dark when we dragged ourselves out to eat fish ’n’ chips and cotton candy on Palace Pier. Afterward, we went clubbing, some cheesy indie night where we danced to The La’s and the Happy Mondays.
That night, we were fearless on the dance floor, without shame, our hands everywhere, and it was as if we were back in the guesthouse, tingling with lust, our bodies damp with each other. We walked out at 4:00 a.m., the air chilling the sweat on our backs, laughing and stumbling, drawn back to the sea.
Anna wanted to watch the sunrise, so we went and sat on the beach and talked for a while, about London, where we might live. We joked—the way new couples do—about the kids we would have one day.
Just as the sun was coming up, Anna began to fall asleep and rested her head in my lap. Some things you never forget. The waves gently shuffling the pebbles; the birds awakened by the red dawn; the warm, salty wind. Anna was happily oblivious to it all. I watched her sleeping, locked into our bliss, our endless summer, her chest rising and falling in perfect time with the sea.
* * *
That evening, I logged back in to Hope’s Place. There were already fifteen responses to my post.
Re: Can anyone help us?
by dxd576» Wed May 21, 2014 10:34 am
I cant help you with your particular condition or recommend any surgical stuff or anything but we are now eighteen months out from our daughter’s diagnosis. We have been juicing and our little one (and all the family) have moved to an all vegan all raw diet. While we can’t say what is round the corner our little Jade is doing well and we know that is to do with the changes to our diet and less with the drugs that the doctors have been giving her.
Re: Can anyone help us?
by Chemoforlifer» Wed May 21, 2014 10:58 am
Rob,
Sorry you’re dealing with all of this. It must have come as quite a shock. While of course it is a brain tumor (and no one likes to hear those two words), do take comfort from the fact that PXA is a very treatable and survivable cancer.
(Just FYI, as you’re new here. I lost my only daughter, Hope, to glioblastoma multiforme five years ago when she was eight years old. I started this forum in her memory to try to help other
