Blue Saturn (38 page)

She lifts her head and looks at me. Her gaze holds mine before she looks down to my lips and then quickly back to my eyes. She repeats this again and again, fighting that internal battle between wanting to kiss me and knowing that if she does things between us will escalate very quickly.

Her breathing becomes shallow and she begins to pant as though she’s just finished a 10 k run. I have that effect on her and it is the best feeling in the world.

She eventually takes a deep breath, holds it and then turns her body, so that her back is against my side. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her tightly against me. I kiss the top of her head, where her scarf covers her fuzzy regrowth and press my cheek against her. “Sleep, Lyndsay. I’ll wake you when we get back.”

As she falls asleep, her head falls this way and that before I eventually lower her down so her head rests against my thigh. I spend the rest of the trip back to shore looking at her, knowing that if my plan doesn’t work, this could very well be the last time I ever watch her sleep.

*****

Although both Lyndsay and Mikey slept the entire way back to shore, they’re both still dead tired. To help out Lyndsay a bit, I had a shower with Mikey and got him into his pyjamas. I thought it might have been a bit early in the day for pyjamas but when I came out from my bedroom and Lyndsay had also showered and was dressed in a massive terry-towelling bathrobe, courtesy of the hotel, I knew my assumption was correct. They’d both need an early night.

Lyndsay has been on a fairly strict diet since being diagnosed with cancer. Almost every night she has cooked dinner for us, for Mikey and I. But tonight, I want her to rest. I phoned the hotel management and asked, no I told them, that they were to bring up whatever it was Lyndsay ordered whether or not it was on the menu. I was assured that would be no problem at all and when I told Lyndsay, she rolled her eyes again and accused me of being a high maintenance celebrity.

If it meant her being rested, I’d happily accept that title.

Tonight is our last night in Adelaide. We’re at the television studios. Tomorrow we head back to Melbourne. Mikey and I have been working on our plan every day and now I’m sitting back stage ready to go on air, and I’m nervous as hell. Not because I’m about to be on TV, but because every minute that passes is one minute closer to possibly losing the girl I love for the second time and this time I know it will be forever. If my plan doesn’t work...

“Okay, boys, you’re on.” Anton’s voice breaks my train of thought and I’m forced to focus on the chore at hand. It’s time to put on my rock-star charm.

Despite my inner turmoil, this interview is going really well. The panel is sticking to the outline, asking questions about the record and throwing in a few light-hearted quips about the rock-star lifestyle. They’re referring to Gavin and I as the Mama and Papa of the band, while Steve and Paul are the unruly teenagers. They show a photo of Mikey and I taken a few weeks ago at the park near where we live. People are always getting shots of us when we’re out together. It seems that the public find it hard to believe I can be both a rock-star and a single dad. Apparently, there’s a Facebook page dedicated to me and my prime example as a single dad. I’ve not looked at it but Anton has assured me that it paints me as an absolute saint. Anyway, people take photos of Mikey and I together and upload them onto Facebook.

I’m still looking at the monitor screen when a picture of Lyndsay and I appears. One of the male panellists - I’m not sure which one because I’m still looking at the monitor - asks who the girl is.

I am absolutely shocked. It’s a picture of Lyndsay and I in the hospital. I’m holding her to my chest and she’s crying. It must’ve been taken by either a nurse or another patient. Or someone’s chemo buddy. Someone who should know better.

Then another picture shows. It’s of Lyndsay and I leaving the hospital. My arm is around her and it’s clear that Lyndsay is relying on me to keep her upright.

Suddenly the lights in the studio are too bright and hot and I feel a cold sweat break out all over my body. “Can you please take those pictures down?” I ask. I barely recognise my own voice.

“Is she someone very close to you, Mike?” the female panellist asks. I’ve momentarily forgotten her name.

“She’s a very good friend and she doesn’t deserve to have her personal life strewn about on national TV,” I answer.

“Your mother died from cancer, didn’t she?”

I have no idea who asked me that. I’m not even sure if it was a male or female. I just heard the words and instantly looked to Anton, who is standing off to the side, gesturing to cut the line of questioning.

The panic rises in me and I feel the beginnings of a full-blown withdrawal attack. I take a deep breath. “She did,” I answer, “but I don’t see how any of that is relevant to the record.”

The panellist in the middle, Charles, takes control and cuts to a break.

My heart is racing frantically and now I have to perform. What I want to do is go outside for a smoke. That was always how I dealt with stress.

Once I’m sure we’ve cut to a break, I quickly stand up and go backstage. I go into the greenroom and start pushing out push-ups.

“You okay, mate?” Gavin asks.

“I’ll be fine,” I answer.

“You’re a bit off tonight.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me. What’s going on?”

There’s no point lying to Gavin, he knows me too well. “I’ve just given Lyndsay another reason why she should never be with me.”

Gavin looks surprised but he nods his head. “Why? What reason is that?”

“Because of me, the whole damn country knows she had cancer. She’s a private person, Gav.” I stop the push-ups and look up at him. “I only have one day left with her.”

“I don’t think she’ll care about the photos, Mike.”

“I hope you’re right.” I get up from the floor, knowing that I have to get on set. “Let’s do it.”

I can’t wait to get out of here. The show’s producer is apologising again and again for the questions relating to my personal life.

I’m so over his half hearted display of remorse, that when my phone rings and the I.D. shows that it’s my dad calling, I actually excuse myself to take his call.

“Hi Dad,” I answer and as I do I wonder why the hell I’ve answered his call.

“I saw the show tonight. You have talent son,” he says but I know there’s more coming. “What I don’t understand is why on earth you didn’t use that perfect opportunity to honour your mother’s memory? You couldn’t say one nice thing about her, could you? You couldn’t say how bravely she fought the cancer because she wanted to see her children grow into adults. You couldn’t say how much she smiled through her toughest days. But then again, I guess you had to be here to see her do those things.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” I say sternly. What I wouldn’t give for a gallon of strong spirits right now. Damn, I want to be numb.

“It’s never the time with you, Mike. You broke your mother’s heart, you selfish prick of a...”

I hit the end button. I’ve heard it all before and I don’t need to hear it again. The pain in my abdomen returns with a sudden ferocity and I need to get out of here. I don’t need a room of gossip journalists see me fall to the ground in agony.

What I do need right now is Lyndsay.

I’m a mess. I’m panting in desperation. I have the window down on the car, the night air filling my lungs but I want it full of something a whole lot less pure than oxygen.

“You gonna be all right, mate?” Gavin asks.

“I will be.” I know I’ll be okay as soon as I see Lyndsay.

I barely make it out of the car.

I barely make it into the hotel lobby.

I barely make it to the elevators.

I barely make it to the nineteenth floor.

I’m shaking like a freakin’ lunatic, my hands completely uncooperative as I try to open the suite door.

My body is drenched in sweat. My breathing is erratic. The pain is gripping.

The door to the suite opens and the first thing I see is Lyndsay. She is standing in the middle of the suite living room. Her hands are on her hips and her head is cocked to one side.

She’s angry. She’s not smiling and her body is tense. She saw the photos. She’s angry. Damn it. This is not good.

“Michael Greene, did you just friend-zone me on national TV?”

I was not expecting her to say that. “What?”

“Did you just friend-zone me on national TV? Because it sounds a lot like you just friend-zoned me.” She frowns. “Is friend-zoned a word? I’m not sure.” She smiles and her posture relaxes. “Anyway,” she comes to me and I’m sure she’s about to hug me, but she stops suddenly. “Mike, are you okay?”

“I will be,” I answer.

“Are you in pain?” she asks. I know she can see the beads of sweat of my forehead.

“It’s going away,” I say. “Keep talking to me.” I go to the couch and sit down, wrapping my arms around my middle.

She follows me to the couch and sits next to me. “I wanted to say thank you,” she says, looking straight into my eyes.

“Thank you? For what?” I’m not expecting her to thank me for anything, but her strange conversation is distracting me from the pain.

“For protecting me.” She smiles at me and it’s the most stunning sight I’ve ever seen. I relish this moment because I know this may be the last time I see her smile. “For wanting to keep me safe. That’s what you were doing...weren’t you? When you asked them to take down the pictures?”

I nod my head. “Yes,” I say quietly.

“Thank you,” she repeats. She looks down to where I’m pressing against my centre, trying to push away the pain. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit here with me. Talk to me.”

She nods her head but doesn’t move her eyes away from mine. We sit, our sights only on each other. She slowly moves her hand toward me, opening out her hand and pressing it against my lower chest.

“Why does it hurt here?” she asks.

“It hurts everywhere. It usually starts as a headache, and then moves quickly to my entire body.”

“Then why do you hold your mid section if it hurts everywhere?”

“I can’t breathe.” I quickly move my hands to hold onto hers. “God it hurts.” I lower my body down, so my forehead is resting on her lap. I want to lie still, but I can’t stop writhing with the pain. I tuck my knees up under me, curling into a ball.

Lyndsay slips one hand from mine and I feel her fingers in my hair. “Is it something specific that triggers the attacks?” she asks.

“Most the time it’s stress but sometimes it’s just my body being a total prick.”

She laughs and her fingers leave my hair, slowly running down the length of my neck. “What is it this time?”

“Stress. And I spoke to my dad.”

“What did your dad say?” Her fingers run back into my hair.

I move my head to the side and look out to the opposite wall of our suite. “I want to ask you something,” I say.

“Okay,” she asks. Her fingers go back to my hair.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling at the moment. I don’t know if your fingers in my hair is a friendly-fingers-in-my-hair thing or if it means more.” I take a deep breath and feel my body begin to relax. I straighten my legs out along the couch. “I have no idea whether or not tomorrow is going to be our last day together. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What do I need to promise you, Mike?”

“I need you to promise me that if the cancer comes back, you’ll let me know.”

She must sense the urgency in my voice because her body becomes rigid. “Are you okay Mike?”

I shake my head. “No I’m not okay.” I turn onto my back and look up at her, my head still resting in her lap, her hand still in my hair. “But I need you to promise me you will call me if the cancer comes back. I failed my mother when she needed me most and I don’t want to fail you, Lyndsay.”

“Mike,” she whispers and I feel her grip on my fingers tighten. “What are you talking about?”

“When my mum got really sick, toward the end, I left. I went away. I wasn’t there when she died.” I feel my body heat from shame. “I was too weak to give her the support she needed.” I shake my head. “No I was too selfish. I was...”

“You were scared.” Lyndsay finishes my sentence.

I nod my head. “Yes I was. So I ran away, like the coward I was. I will never forgive myself for that. Promise me, promise me you will let me be there for you.” I look into her eyes, so intensely it almost makes my eyes strain. “Promise me Lyndsay.”

“I promise you, Mike. I do.”

“I love you Lyndsay,” I say before I can stop the words.

“Mike,” she whispers. Her single word is followed by a small shake of her head. Tears come to her eyes and she looks away. “Everything is happening so quickly. I don’t know...” She looks back into my eyes and then leans her head back, looking to the ceiling. “I don’t know, Mike,” she says quietly.

I roll onto my side, wrapping my arms around her robe covered legs. I’ll hold her like this all night if she’ll let me. I’ll cherish every second she’s this close because tomorrow, she might be gone.