“Just because I haven’t met him in person doesn’t mean that I don’t know him.”
Anna shook her head.
“I can call him now if you want,” I said, raising my voice.
“Do whatever you like,” Anna said.
We sat on the sofa, not touching, our bodies angled away from each other, and the house had never felt so quiet, so cold.
“What is happening to us?” I said. “We can’t even have a normal conversation anymore.”
“Our son’s dying, that’s what’s happening to us,” she said. Already, Anna’s lexicon was different to mine. Whereas I struggled to say the word hospice—with its soft, beguiling hiss—Anna would use words like “terminal” or “dying.”
“Right,” I said, trying to not get angry. “I know it’s horrible—it’s the most horrible thing imaginable—but we’re on the same side in this.”
“On the same side?” Anna said. “You’ve barely spoken a word to me in days. It’s like you can’t even look at me anymore. You’re obsessed, Rob, with this Nev guy, with this...this false hope that you’re clinging to...”
Anna went back to cleaning the patio windows, trying to get rid of the smears. At that moment, the only thing I could think to do was to call Nev. It wasn’t just for Anna, it was also for me. Yes, he wasn’t asking for money—“only $25 to kick cancer to the curb!”—or asking me to sign up for his healing-the-holistic-way newsletter, but I still had my doubts. Little things that didn’t add up. I had once asked Nev about his wife or partner, but he didn’t answer. In another email, I asked him where he lived. Nothing.
There was something else that made me wary. Nev was very public with his support for Dr. Sladkovsky. He was active on the forums, but there was never a testimonial from him on Sladkovsky’s website. A boy cured of glioblastoma, one of the most aggressive and devastating childhood cancers. Why wasn’t Josh a poster child for Dr. Sladkovsky?
One night, to put my mind at rest, I did a little research. I wasn’t going to fall for a scam, like some lonely groomed teen. I did a reverse image search on Google, but all the photos of Josh led back to Nev’s photo album. I ran the photos through a little script I had written, to scrape and analyze the image’s metadata, to see if it showed when and where the photos were taken, but there was nothing. No data. Nothing at all.
“Hello,” I could hear a voice, a northern voice. “Nev speaking.”
For a moment, I was speechless, surprised that anyone had answered, a lingering suspicion that perhaps Anna was right.
“Hello,” the voice said again. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes, hello, Nev. It’s Rob.”
A pause.
“Hello, Rob, very nice to hear from you.” I knew Nev was from the north because Josh had been treated at the Royal Preston Hospital, but I was surprised by the thickness of his accent. In the background I could hear what sounded like children playing.
“Hold on one second,” Nev said. “Can you take your shoes off?” There was a muffled sound in the distance, a banging noise. “Sorry about that. Just come in from the park. So how are you, Rob? How are things going?”
“Not too bad,” I said, and it was strange thing to say, an odd platitude. “Actually, Jack isn’t doing very well, I’m afraid.”
Another pause. The line sounded faint, as if we were calling long distance. “Well, all I can say is that I’ll be thinking of you all. I can remember just how terrible that time was.”
“Thanks.” I struggled to find my words. “Look, the reason why I called. I was just speaking with my wife about the treatment at the Prague clinic...”
Anna looked angrily at me, shaking her head. She quickly stood up and walked out of the living room.
“She’s reluctant, you see, has read bad things about the clinic.”
Nev was silent.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” Nev said, the warmth gone from his voice.
“I didn’t mean to, you know...” I stumbled.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Nev said. “I know a lot of people feel that way. I understand. Look, Rob, I’m not a medical man, I’m an engineer by trade. I can’t convince you that the clinic is right for your Jack. That’s up to you. I would never ever try to convince or persuade you—or anyone—what to do. I can only tell you what happened to my son. That’s all I can do.”
The phone was quiet for a second, and in the background I could hear what sounded like children’s cartoons.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. As you can understand, it’s a difficult time.”
I looked up and saw Jack slowly walking down the stairs, Anna holding his hand. He was a little unsteady on his feet and was clutching Little Teddy under his arm.
Looking at Jack, I didn’t know what else to say to Nev. It all seemed ridiculous. Should I ask him if he was lying about his son’s health, as Josh sat a few feet from him watching cartoons?
“I’m really sorry, Nev, but I’m going to have to go. Jack has just woken up.”
“Of course, Rob, of course,” Nev said, his voice warm once again. “It was nice to chat, Rob. And please, please, if ever you want to talk more—about anything—just give me a buzz.”
“Thanks, Nev, I really appreciate that.”
I waited for him to hang up, listening for the click, but it didn’t come, and for a few seconds I listened to Nev breathe on the other end of the line. Just as I was about to put down the phone, I heard a child’s voice in the background: “Daaa-deee, Daaa-deee,” and then Nev shout, “Coming, sweetheart.” I stayed on the line, listening to the muffled voices, the sound of things being moved around, until finally I hung up.
* * *
The silence was corrosive as I entered the bedroom. Anna was reading
