Page 146 of While I’m Still Here

Marcus leans forward slightly. “Sitting through treatment is still doing it, Bea.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Boring.”

For a little while, she watches what's happening around her instead. I can almost see her collecting information. Nothing in the room resembles the version of chemotherapy television taught me to expect. Bea notices too. “I thought it would be scarier.”

I look at her. “Are you not scared?”

“Fucking terrified.”

“Same.”

That makes her turn towards me. I probably wasn't supposed to admit that. There is an instinct, especially around Bea, to pretend I'm not frightened because she already has enough fear of her own. But she studies my face for a moment and doesn't look burdened by it. “You are?”

“Obviously.”

“You've been carrying a giant inflatable penis all morning.”

“Those things aren't mutually exclusive.” Her mouth twitches. I squeeze her hand. “I can be scared and still bring Derek. I'm very emotionally complex… and I wanted to make you laugh.”

A little later, Bea asks Marcus when she's likely to start feeling unwell. Marcus doesn't answer as though his experience is a timetable for hers. He tells her his own treatment varied and reminds her that her team will tell her what they want her to watch for and what to do if she's worried. Bea listens, asks another question and then another. Some Marcus can answer from experience. Others he deliberately leaves for the nurse.

I like that about him.

Not that I'm going to tell him that.

When Bea asks the nurse herself, she gets the information she actually needs for her treatment rather than Marcus's. She asks about nausea, tiredness, what happens when she goes home and who she contacts if something feels wrong. The nurse answers each question without rushing her. Bea nods through all of it. Then she asks, “What about food?”

The nurse answers her, and Colin immediately reaches into Bea's bag. I watch him pull out a packet of ginger sweets.

I stare. “You've got ginger sweets?”

Colin looks at me. “Yes.”

“I bought ginger sweets.”

“Okay.”

“No, not okay. That was my contribution.”

Bea turns towards me. “Your contribution is currently leaning against the wall with a penis the size of a toddler.”

“Derek is emotional support. Ginger sweets are practical support. I was supposed to be the snack bringer.”

Before Colin can answer, Marcus quietly reaches into his coat pocket and puts a third packet on the table. I stare at it, then at him. Marcus looks back at me.

“Are you fucking joking?” I whisper-shout, trying to be mindful of the others around us.

“They can be useful,” Marcus says.

“I know. That's why I bought them.”

Bea starts laughing. Not the little nervous laugh from earlier. A proper one. She leans her head back against the chair, eyes closing while her shoulders shake, and the sound draws a smile from Colin before he even knows what he's smiling about. “Three boyfriends,” Bea mutters, opening her eyes again, “and not one original fucking thought between you.”

The nurse returns before I can make this into a thing, which is probably a good thing because I can be a bit dramatic, and just like that, the focus returns to Bea.

The appointment continues. Time passes strangely after that. There are periods where we talk and periods where none of us does. Bea asks questions when she has them. She drinks when she's able. She shifts in the chair, complains that her arse is going numb, and eventually lets Colin rearrange the cushion behind her after insisting for ten minutes that she doesn't need it.

Derek slowly loses air against the wall. Nobody notices for a while. Mostly, I watch Bea. Not the equipment or the clock. Her. At some point, her eyelids start getting heavy. She insists she's not tired while yawning halfway through the sentence, then tries to continue a conversation with Marcus about something she saw online and loses the thread twice. “You can sleep,” Colin tells her.