‘What?’ I stare blankly as hepulls the hoodie on over his head.
‘I’m going to stay with you. You’re not doing this alone.’
‘What? Noah—don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re not. You need to go home and get some sleep.’
‘I’m a doctor, darling.’ His expression is soft. ‘That means I have an advanced degree in sleeping absolutely anywhere. I promise you.’
He takes me up to Mum’s room and kicks off his shoes, sitting at one end of the sofa. He puts one pillow on his lap, wedging the other behind his head, and holds out the blanket to me. ‘Come on.’
‘Seriously, Noah,’ I whisper. ‘This is going to be so uncomfortable for you.’
‘I have nowhere else to be, and nowhere I’d rather be. Lie.’
And so I sigh in defeat and lie down on the sofa, resting my head on Noah’s pillowed lap and curling my legs up. I face away from him, towards Mum, whose even breathing is a small source of comfort. But not as much comfort as the feeling of Noah’s body under mine.
He brushes some strands of hair lightly off my face. ‘I’m getting my night with you at last. Just not quite how I envisaged it. Now, sleep well, darling.’
I sleep fitfully,or at least that’s how it feels, vaguely conscious of nurses tiptoeing in during the night to tend to Mum. In the early hours, I sink into an exhausted sleep. And when I wake, Mum is still out for the count and the blanket is down around my waist. Noah’s hand has snuck under my sweater and is splayed against my stomach, and my own hand is pressing down on his, holding onto it for dear life.I’m stiff and exhausted, but a warm glow emanates from where our skin touches, and spreads throughout my abdomen, and it’s the best feeling I’ve had all week. It’s the best feeling in the world.
I swivel onto my back, clamping onto his hand so it slides around my waist as I turn. I look up at him just in time to see him stir. And I smile at the warmth in his eyes when he surfaces and clocks where we are. His eyes flick over to her mum and back to my face, before landing on our entwined hands.
‘Oh, wow,’ he whispers. ‘Sorry about that.’ He moves his hand reluctantly off my waist and uses it to rake my hair gently back. It feels amazing.
‘Don’t be sorry.’ I stretch luxuriously. ‘I loved it. Do you grope all your guests’ family members when they stay over?’
He smiles down at me, as if this innocent night together has been as much a gift for him as it has been for me. ‘Just the prettiest ones.’
CHAPTER 35
Honor
My world has shrunk to one room in one building. Ally’s, too. As we sit by Mum’s bed, we marvel aloud at the fact that the event we’ve dreaded all our lives, and in particular since we got the diagnosis, is nearly upon us. And yet, instead of being in a blind panic, we’re prepared. Resigned, almost.
It’s the strangest twilight zone, this limbo between a loved one’s life and death. I’ve known Mum since before I was conscious, when my only awareness was of her heartbeat and the cradle of her body, and yet, sometime in the next few hours (or days, but Elena and Noah think hours), she will slip away and cease to exist on this plane.
I’ve read my fair share of Eckhardt Tolle, but it’s still a head fuck of epic proportions. And yet, the knowledge of what’s hanging over us is allowing us this brief period of incredible peace, as though life is suspended and everything is possible. I feel it, and Ally feels it, and I really believe Mum feels it, because everything about her breathing and her countenance is serene.
I should be holding onto this moment harder; I thought Iwould be clawing at it, desperate to get Mum to hold on through sheer force of will. But instead, the calm inevitability that surrounds our little trio like a cloak has bewitched me, and I find myself content to simply live it. Maybe it’s because Mum’s death is so certain, and so imminent, but I’m hyper-present in a way I usually fail spectacularly to be.
Right here, right now, in this moment, there is a pulse flowing through Mum’s veins, though it’s so faint that we can no longer feel it at her wrists as we hold her hands, and there is air flowing through her lungs, and for once in my crazy, striving life, that’s enough to be grateful for.
We both stayed here last night. No sofa-time this time; we’ve been in these chairs all night. Keeping a vigil. And, more importantly, keeping Mum company. Whatever Noah may have said about people sometimes finding it easier to die alone, I’m not taking the chance of letting her feel abandoned in her final minutes.
The curtains are open. We kept them open all night—it felt less isolating, being able to see the glow of streetlights out there and know that for most people, life is going on as normal. The remnants of a beautiful late October dawn still streak the sky. I stare out at it and shiver as full-body goose bumps hit me.
‘You okay?’ Ally asks. She looks like I feel; her face is white and exhausted and drawn.
‘Yeah.’ I wiggle my shoulders to shake off the sensation that just hit me. They’re stiff as hell from a night in a chair preceded by a night on a sofa. ‘I just had déjà vu—or something. That sky reminds me of when Serena was born. We waited all night for me to dilate enough, and by the time I was ready to push, the sky was exactly like that, and the air felt so similar to how it feels now. Like it was full of… I don’t know, electricity and expectation.
‘It was the most magical feeling then, waiting for this newsoul to come into the world. I don’t know why I feel the exact same way now. Probably sleep deprivation.’
‘Oh, babe. I suppose birth and death are not dissimilar; they’re both a total fucking mystery.’ Ally looks down at Mum and her forehead pinches. ‘Do you think she’s still here?’
An instant swell of panic replaces my equilibrium. ‘I don’t know.’ I look at Mum. It’s so hard to tell—I can’t see her chest rising, but her breaths have been so faint all night. I stand, and crouch over her, and hover the side of my face to just above her mouth, but I can’t pick up any breath. I feel like a helpless kid, and a glance at Ally tells me she feels the same.
I need a grown up—someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. I hit the call button, and a moment later, Karen, one of the lovely nurses, appears.
‘I think she might be gone.’ I’m whispering, because if Mum’s still alive, I don’t want to freak her out. I stroke Mum’s hand as if she’s the child and I’m the responsible adult and I’m trying to reassure her that everything’s okay.
