Me Without You (29 page)

F
or seven glorious weeks
, we relaxed together by the ocean, enjoying all of the carefree moments we were supposed to share the first time around. Maybe Lilah was choking more and more on her food and even water; maybe the chorea movements were becoming more noticeable and more sustained; maybe she was becoming forgetful and everyday tasks were more difficult; maybe she was stumbling more and more—if I noticed, I didn’t ever acknowledge it, even to myself.

Peta visited each day. Sometimes she came for breakfast and brought me bacon, and although Lilah rolled her eyes at us, Peta and I would sit and devour the meat as if we were children raiding a lolly stash. We saw Leon and Nancy all of the time too because they spent their days in the garden right outside our house. Nancy seemed to have developed a terrible habit of accidentally cooking too much and asking us to take suspiciously fresh-looking vegan ‘leftovers’ or baked goods off her hands. Karl called from time to time. They were our only connections beyond the beach house, because I was totally focused on Lilah, and she was totally focused on me. We did a lot of living in those seven weeks, especially for two people who only ever left the property to buy supplies.

It was a golden time; all was well with the world except for the very distant band of storm clouds on the horizon, and I was absolutely determined to ignore them until I no longer could.

Lynn had been Skyping in every few days, but after one of these sessions, suddenly decided she needed to see and reassess Lilah, and we reluctantly packed our bags and headed back to Lilah's apartment in Manly. As soon as we stepped inside, I looked through the French doors to the utterly barren garden on the balcony, and I resisted the urge to shield Lilah’s eyes.

‘Fuck, it stinks in here,’ was all that she said. She walked immediately to the doors and flung them open. ‘Don’t you hate that musty smell? Your apartment must be even worse—Jesus, it’s been six months since you were there.’

But it hadn’t. It had been seven weeks, the same seven weeks I’d been fully immersed in her world, and wouldn’t have given a toss even if my apartment had burnt to the ground. I watched her silently.

‘It’s bloody cold too, isn’t it? I’ll let it air for a while then we’ll crank that heater up.’ She stepped back into the living area, wiped her hand over the top of a couch and sighed. ‘Fucking dust. Cal, could you grab a cloth and wipe a few things down? I need to find a jumper.’

Lilah didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she walked through to her bedroom.

Over the next hour, I waited for comprehension to dawn, and for the disappointment to set in on her face. She donned a jumper, but was still cold. She tried to add tracksuit pants, but her hands were too unsteady, so I had to help her, and eventually I settled her in on the couch with two pairs of socks and a blanket, and I thought surely now she’d see the balcony and I could console her.

Instead, she started flicking between channels, the dead pot plants just a metre behind her and still unnoticed.

Several minutes later, I tried to force the issue.

‘I’m sorry about the balcony, Ly.’

She looked at me blankly.

‘The plants?’ I prompted.

When comprehension still failed to dawn, I physically pointed to the dead pot plants. She turned around and looked at the balcony, then she shrugged at me as if we were talking about the weather.

‘Shit happens. We can replace them.’

There had been worrying signs, and troubling symptoms, but I’d managed to avoid them all, until that very moment. Right there in her apartment I finally admitted to myself that the honeymoon was coming to an end.

O
ver the next few days
, Lilah underwent a battery of tests, and Lynn’s take on the situation was bleak.

‘Her memory is shot,’ she told me. ‘And her cognitive tests show significant decline… reasoning, sequencing and problem-solving have deteriorated. The swallowing study was even worse. Surely she’s been choking more and more?’

Of course she had been. I just didn’t want to say it aloud. I had taken to preparing only meals that consisted of tiny portions to encourage her to take smaller mouthfuls, but it wasn’t helping.

Lynn placed her hand over mine.

‘Callum, I’m sorry, but you are just going to have to bring her back for reassessment more often—there is a weekly clinic at Newcastle I can meet you at, which might be easier. At this rate, I’d say we will need to consider withholding nutrition and hydration by mouth and utilising a feeding tube in the short-term future. It’s a miracle that she hasn’t had pneumonia again, and you guys have already had your share of miracles—we can’t push this any further.’

W
hile Lynn and I met
, Lilah was at an MRI, and all the while I knew the worst was yet to come—telling Lilah herself. When she joined us, she was tired from the back-to-back tests, and before Lynn could speak, she held up her hand.

‘I know. I know we’re on the last downhill run here and I know it’s happening faster than we hoped. Everything is beginning to fade, and I know you’re going to want to do more and more to alleviate the symptoms but…’

We hadn’t talked about any of these things, and I had assumed Lilah was unaware, as I had wished she were. She looked at me; the darkness in her blue eyes tugged hard at my soul.

‘We’ve had our time, Cal. The next time I get pneumonia, I’m refusing treatment, and I’m going to let it take me. Do you understand?’

It was amazing how strong she sounded. Even the thickness to her voice seemed to improve as the stubbornness rose.

‘That’s entirely your choice, Lilah,’ Lynn said softly.

‘
Callum
needs to understand, not you.’ Lilah’s gaze was sharp and focused on me. ‘And you need to make sure Mum understands. I do not want you two to override my wishes when I can’t speak for myself.’

‘I understand.’ I could barely force out a whisper, let alone a sentence. I fumbled for her hand and the tears spilled from my eyes. Only a brief few months with her facing this, and I couldn’t refuse her. How people managed decades of this decline I’d never understand. ‘I will make sure that your wishes are respected, sweetheart. I promise.’

Lilah was crying too. She pulled me close, pressed my face into her neck as if I was the sick one, and her fingers clutched at my hair.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you, Callum.

She pulled herself back from my shoulder suddenly and wiped away the tears with an almost violent determination. When that failed to work too, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself.

When she opened her eyes again, they were twinkling with mischief. She grinned, and then winked at me.

‘All right then, take me to the Manly Inn, my friend. I’m in the mood for some teeny tiny bites of steak.’

I
knew somehow
that this would be the last time we’d be at Lilah’s apartment together. She must have known it too.

‘I just need a few minutes here alone, Cal.’

The bags were by the door, and I couldn’t think of a single excuse to refuse her. I hesitated anyway.

‘What if I just…’

She rolled her eyes and pushed me towards the door.

‘Go for a bloody walk, Callum. Grab a coffee or get your damn hair cut or buy me some ice cream. I just need ten minutes to myself. I promise I’ll still be here when you get back.’

I caught the elevator downstairs, staring at myself in the mirror and knowing I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her before I got back. When it stopped on the ground floor, I walked across the lobby to the front door. I remembered my first visit there, how shocked and out of place I’d felt when I saw how new and exclusive her building was. Now home was wherever Lilah was. How would I find home after she was gone?

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it
.

I walked back to the elevator and pressed the fifth-floor button, once, twice, three times, trying to hurry it up. The doors opened and one of the other occupants stepped out, offering me a faint smile as I pushed past him.

The elevator doors opened on her floor just as she kicked the last of our bags out into the hallway.

‘I said ten minutes.’ She was exasperated. ‘Jesus, Callum. Did you even leave the building?’

‘I…’ I looked at the bags. ‘You should have let me do that.’

‘It’s done now.’

‘What were you even doing in there?’

She frowned.

‘Do you think we could go get some ice cream?’

Was it a deflection? I didn’t know, and I knew I couldn’t push it. I picked up a bag in each hand.

‘All right. Can you walk?’

‘It’s only a block away.’ She was impatient and irritable. ‘Of course I can walk.’

Bags safely stowed in her hybrid, I took her hand in mine and we walked along the beach towards the Corso, as we’d done so many times over the early months of our relationship. As we neared the ice cream shop, she released my hand, flashed me a smile and pointed to a clothing shop.

‘Remember that day?’

She’d tried on hats, and I’d waited on the bench outside and watched her through the glass. She looked like a world-class model that day, and I’d been overtaken by a strange urge to play-act with her—so unlike me, especially back then. As if we were two playful kids, I pretended I was holding a camera and she laughed at me and played along.

‘I remember that black felt hat. No one else in the world could pull that off except you,’ I murmured.

‘Remember the noodle shop?’

‘I thought you were going to get yourself arrested.’

‘Ah, now
that
would have been fun.’

‘What flavour ice cream do you want?’ I asked her.

‘Coconut soy—’she began, then paused. ‘Triple chocolate sundae please, with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.’

I kissed her forehead and helped her into one of the low chairs out the front. We’d always sat in the higher bar stools along the window, but that would be too risky now. We could re-enact our ice cream runs, but we couldn’t pretend things hadn’t changed.

I’d get Lilah exactly what she asked for, although we both knew she’d be licking only a few mouthfuls off the spoon before it became too much work to swallow it. It didn’t matter though, not one little bit. She’d enjoy those mouthfuls and I’d soak up the joy on her face as she did.

I
t all happened too quickly
from there. It was as if Lilah had possessed the strength of mind to hold off her demise for a while, but then even her resolve broke.

She got a mild fever less than a week after we saw Lynn. I wasn’t worried at first; she seemed comfortable and assured me she wasn’t in pain. The only sign of trouble was a slight glassiness to her eyes, and when I felt her forearm I was surprised at the heat there.

I insisted she take some paracetamol and slept fitfully beside her as the fever came and went, and by morning she was coughing a little.

And then the fever came back, but this time it did not let up. Lilah just wanted to sleep, and when woke, she was still exhausted. I rang Lynn, who sent around a local palliative care GP. As she slept, he listened to her chest then looked up at me.

‘It’s pneumonia,’ he confirmed very quietly. ‘I understand she’s refusing treatment?’

I stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed. It was so rare to see colour in her chalky complexion.

‘That’s what she’s said.’

‘I’ll come back in the morning. If she gets any worse in the meantime, call me and I’ll come back and we can talk more serious pain relief.’

‘Will she just sleep like this now?’ Had my chance to converse with her, to share moments of enjoying each other, to say goodbye… had it already passed without me knowing it?

‘It’s hard to say,’ the doctor shrugged. ‘If we hook her up to some morphine, she might sleep on. But… she’s a long way off leaving you.’ His expression softened. ‘You should have time yet to say goodbye.’

L
ilah woke later
that afternoon and slowly ate some soup. She seemed a little better somehow, well enough even to ask to move to the lounge to watch some television for a while.

I was channel surfing, looking for something that might vaguely interest her, when she suddenly grabbed my arm with a grip that was so tight it literally elicited a howl from me.

‘You need to call Mum and get her to come.’

I did as I was told, and within minutes Peta was there, bag in hand, ready for the long haul. She let herself in and walked straight to Lilah on the couch. She crouched before her daughter, fumbled for both hands, and they stared at each other for the longest time. Such emotion passed back and forward that I felt awkward being in the room.

Then, without a word, Peta rose.

‘I’ll make up the bed in the spare room.’

I
n the days that followed
, I got my first taste of Lilah’s absence. She was still there, but our days were entirely filled with her illness, and she was too sick to do anything but rest. The days were pain-filled—physically for Lilah and emotionally for Peta and I—punctuated only by medication to administer and visits from the doctor.

‘Has she ever been this sick before?’ I asked Peta, while Lilah moaned and half-slept on the bed before us. I knew she’d had pneumonia a bunch of times while we were apart, and somehow had clawed her way back. Oh, that this would be a false alarm and she’d sleep fitfully for days and then wake up and demand green tea.

‘No,’ Peta said softly. ‘I think this is it.’

When I called, Lynn drove up from the city immediately, and after examining Lilah she pulled me out onto the deck.

‘I don’t know how long this will take, Cal. I’ve just set up an IV for fluids and a self-administering morphine device because she’s in so much pain but—’ She looked tired and emotional. I understood too well. Physically, I felt like I no longer slept with my whole mind, in case I woke to find Lilah had stopped breathing beside me. Emotionally, though, I was so tired, just knowing that my love was fading before my very eyes, and there was nothing at all I could do to stop it. ‘At some point over the next few days, she might just go,’ Lynn whispered, and to my horror, she was suddenly crying. ‘I’m sorry. I know this is unprofessional, but I’ve been treating her for years and—’