I certainly couldn’t speak for everyone, but I thought that the worst thing anyone could experience is their own child’s death. Parents simply shouldn’t outlive their children. So it wasn’t just terrifying to imagine Ruby watching me die, but allowing Dad to witness my last moments made it even more devastating.
Mark was right, I couldn’t go to New Zealand. I wanted them to remember me as happy, functional… Even though recently I had obviously been struggling and my mind was constantly somewhere else, but at least I wasn’t writhing in deadly agony and looking like death. Had he known, I was sure Dad would have said that any time spent together–even painful and scary–was better than no time. But maybe it would be better to rip that band-aid off quickly and not prolong the suffering. The idea that Dad would have to think about what to do with my corpse was repulsive and unbearable.
But how could I arrange it so that Ruby and him willingly go to New Zealand without me? I decided to pretend that it was a real holiday and I was going with them until the last possible moment, until it’s time for the actual flight and I came up with some believable reason why I needed to stick around in Perth for a bit.
The very next day I bought three tickets–return trip, of course. I didn’t want there to be any doubt, and in any case, it was better to avoid questions. The tickets were expensive, but I didn’t care about the money, in a few months it wouldn’t mean much anyway.
“Alright, we’re all booked,” I looked up from my laptop and smiled, hopefully at least somewhat successfully. “We’re flying Wednesday fortnight.”
Dad cheered. “How long are we staying?”
“Six weeks.” Originally I’d wanted to choose two months, just in case, but that seemed a bit too suspicious for a regular yearly time off. According to Mark, they were going to release the plague in two weeks, he’d promised me that two weeks after that there won’t be any more air traffic.
“Isn’t that too long?” Dad said hesitantly. “Don’t get me wrong, I could stay even longer. It’s just that… can we afford it?”
I understood his scruples. “If we couldn’t afford it, I wouldn’t have suggested it, you know that. And before you even start with your I-cost-you-too-much-money monologue,” I quickly added when he started to open his mouth, “I’d like to remind you that you’d been selflessly looking after me for my first twenty years. Let me just buy us a holiday.”
I got up and hugged him tightly. He was slightly taken aback. Neither of us particularly enjoyed physical or verbal displays of affection, although we weren’t totally against them either.
I’d gotten a bit carried away, encouraged by the knowledge that we wouldn’t have much time left together. And it stopped his protests, which is what I was hoping for.
Afterwards when I suggested various New Zealand activities and trips, he happily joined in, approving and disapproving, and came up with his own ideas. I’d thought it would have been difficult to come up with an itinerary for every day, but my worries were unnecessary as our calendar filled at lightning speed. Getting Dad to Rotorua a few days before the required date was so easy it’d surprised me. His birthday had fallen conveniently on the time of our holiday, so I’d found some guided fishing trips, told him about it at once, and booked him on one accompanied by his ecstatic approval.
“But what about you and Ruby?” he asked as if he didn’t deserve a day for himself.
“We’re gonna go swimming,” I promptly answered and winked at him, “and watch from the shore how you’re hunting for dinner.”
It was a downright lie, but what did it matter? If when the time came he did feel like using the voucher, he could just take Ruby on the boat with him. We knew she wouldn’t get sea sick, thanks to the few fishing trips with Wyatt.
“I’m liking this trip more and more,” he mumbled happily and rubbed his hands.
I was glad that he was busy reading through the fishing trip leaflets, because I was overcome by the surge of love I had for him. I blinked furiously, chasing away the tears, while forcing my lungs to work normally. When Dad raised his eyes from the screen, I was in control of myself again, thank God.
“So your sergeant’s ok with all this?”
I fidgeted slightly. I had to be careful about my answer now. I wanted it to provide me with an escape later.
“He’d agreed that I can go on holiday, and he knows the rough dates. He didn’t have a problem with it.”
He nodded and I was relieved.
We spent the rest of the afternoon reading through our itinerary and searching for accommodation, and then it was time to pick Ruby up from kindy. That evening, full of my daughter’s giggling that was brought about thanks to her Grampa, games and good food, could almost be considered perfect were it not for that first panic attack I suffered.
It happened just as I was putting Ruby to bed. Rather than frighten her by gasping for air and desperately rubbing my chest, I gritted my teeth and pretended to sleep.
I usually let her fall asleep alone, but today I couldn’t get out of her bed. The sudden anxiety wouldn’t let me, and also, I wanted to feel her tiny body pressed against mine, just this once.
It felt like I was there for ages, listening to her whispering to herself and playing with her favourite stuffed elephant, and then breathing peacefully, hugging me with her little arm.
I never wanted the moment to end.
I’d always liked animals better than people. It didn’t mean I didn’t like people at all, it was more that I
