Jewel

‘Jewel,’ murmured Sacha. ‘I want to tell you something.’

It was late and quiet and all I could feel were Sacha’s fingertips across my stomach.

‘Mm-hm,’ I mumbled, but my mind was far away and my eyes were closed. His breath was warm against the side of my face.

‘I’m going to die, Jewel,’ he whispered.

I wondered why he kept saying my name like that. Not that I didn’t like it, I did, but he kept whispering my name…Maybe this was important. I wondered. I wondered.

‘Jewel,’ he whispered again, and his lips were right against my ear this time. ‘This is important.’

I liked this. I liked the way he said Jewel, like I was important. I knew I wasn’t, but it was nice for him to whisper and for me to think that.

‘I’m going to die, Jewel,’ he said again. I heard him the first time.

I kept my eyes closed and he kissed my cheek.

‘I know, Sacha,’ I murmured. ‘Everyone is.’

He drew circles across my stomach and touched his head against mine. I felt so warm.

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

‘I love you too,’ I murmured. ‘With all my heart. Good night.’

So late. So tired.

He kissed me lightly. ‘Good night then. Love you.’

I woke early.

I half expected Sacha to disappear in the pre-dawn light, or that the night before would be that strange sort of dream you have just before waking, like a splash of images—my head against the glass door watching the rain, peeling apart a ham and lettuce sandwich, building a tent, gulping down wine, kissing Sacha over and over again.

It couldn’t have been one of those dreams because those dreams were illogical and muddled with bizarre people chasing me and walls behaving in ways walls don’t behave—whereas this made sense, Sacha and me.

Sacha’s hand was across my stomach and the rest of him was still lying next to me as well, eyes closed, breath even.

I’d slept off the wine. I got up, gently laying Sacha’s hand down and pushing away the sheets, and peeked out the Venetian blinds. It was early— way too early—and Rachel’s car wasn’t yet in the drive.

I walked to my room and dug through my drawers, putting on whatever I pulled out first. Then I combed back my hair and threw it into a ponytail and stepped out of the house and into the dawn light, closing the front door quietly behind me.

The wind chilled me, and I walked quickly, enjoying the sound my footsteps made across the asphalt. There were the psycho-joggers and gym-junkies, up at this insane hour every morning. They nodded at me, the crazy girl, practically a woman, with a lopsided ponytail.

I walked to the corner shop, just opening, and bought a carton of milk. Then I walked to the park and stood on a bench and flung my arms wide—the carton of milk in one hand—and tipped my head up to the sunlight and took several deep breaths, before jumping down and running all the way home to Sacha.

When I got back Rachel still wasn’t there and Sacha, looking meek, was tugging his T-shirt over his head.

‘Hi,’ I said.

He smiled and raked his fingers through his hair. It was a mess. He didn’t say anything.

I held up the carton of milk. ‘I got some milk. For breakfast.’

He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Okay.’

I put the milk in the fridge then walked back into the living room.

Neither of us said anything. I picked up the sheets, the blanket and the pillows and took them back to my room, while Sacha dragged the chairs back to the dining table. Then we collected the remnants of our feast—the empty bottle of wine, glasses, half a bunch of grapes and a half-eaten Tim Tam—and took them out to the kitchen.

We stood on opposite sides of the kitchen bench.

‘This is awkward,’ I said.

Sacha smiled again. ‘Yeah.’

He grasped my hand across the bench and turned it palm up and rubbed his thumb slowly across it.

‘Do you remember what I said last night?’ he asked.

I concentrated on my hand, and his hand holding it, and the Formica bench top, and the half-eaten Tim Tam.

‘Not really,’ I said.

‘Let’s sit in the living room,’ he said.

We sat on the couch and Sacha raked his fingers through his hair again and I tucked my knees to my chest.

‘So,’ I said.

He turned towards me and he bit his bottom lip and his eyes were so big and his smile so sweet and uncertain.

‘So,’ he said.

‘You’ll have to tell me again,’ I said. ‘Start from the beginning.’

Sacha reached over and tucked my hair behind my ears. ‘It was a lot easier to say last night.’

‘Do you want to go down to the bottle shop? Would that make it easier?’ I said.

He laughed and showed all his teeth. And then the front door opened and Rachel came in.

Sacha and I both stood up. Rachel looked tired and a little bit drunk. No one spoke or moved for ages.

She put down her keys and said, ‘Who’s this?’

‘This is Sacha,’ I said. ‘Sacha, this is Rachel.’

Rachel blinked slowly and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know what to do, Jewel.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with this, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m eighteen, and I have been for five months.’

She almost looked sad. ‘I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve failed you somehow— have I?’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’

I glanced at Sacha apologetically and eased Rachel out of the room and into her bedroom. I helped her take off her jacket and got her a glass of water from the bathroom.

When she got into bed I sat on the edge.

‘You didn’t fail anyone, Mum,’ I said. ‘Stop blaming yourself and I’ll stop blaming me.’

She sighed and closed her eyes.

I left the room and closed the door behind me. Sacha was standing in the same place I had left him. I kissed him on the cheek. ‘We’ve got a while till school starts. Do you want to go for a walk?’

He smiled.

I put on a green dress that was gathering dust in my cupboard (one of a few dresses my grandparents had bought me, but I’d never worn), brushed my hair and teeth, splashed my face with water and found a spare toothbrush in the bathroom for Sacha. I slicked on red lipstick and mascara. Because I felt like it. Because today would be a good day.

We walked to the park, holding hands part of the way. The park was just starting to fill up with people: the diligent dog-walkers, early-rising mothers with squealing babies, joggers and cyclists and power-walkers nodding at each other as they crossed paths. We wandered through the long grass to the far side of the football oval, where we were sheltered by trees.

I collapsed onto the grass and dragged Sacha down with me.

‘I’m sorry about my mum,’ I said.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he smiled. ‘I’m lucky your father isn’t around.’

‘Yeah.’ I smiled. I ripped up a handful of grass and then let it shower down onto the ground like a flurry of green snow.

I looked back up at Sacha and he leant forward and kissed me and I tingled all the way to my toes.

We leant back a bit, and we both had our eyes open. I was so close I could see each of Sacha’s eyelashes and I could feel his breath against my face. Then he whispered, ‘I’m going to die.’

Neither of us moved. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Everyone’s going to die, Sacha. Don’t tell me you just realised you’re a mortal.’ Even as I dismissed what he’d said, I felt uneasy.

‘I love you, Jewel.’

He grasped my hand and the air felt tense. My breath caught in my throat.

I shook my head. ‘You’re being a drama queen. You are.’

Sacha laughed an unfunny laugh. ‘Please let me explain it to you.’ He squeezed my hand.

I didn’t squeeze back or nod, just shifted away from him and stared into the distance.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and his thumb made little circles on the back of my hand. ‘When I was younger—between eight and twelve—I had leukaemia. I was in hospital a lot.’

He looked at me, waiting for a reaction, or maybe for me just to acknowledge that I’d heard him. We sat like that—me looking away, him watching me—for five minutes. Eventually, when he figured I wasn’t going to do anything, he went on.

‘I was in remission. For years,’ he almost laughed.

‘I thought everything was back to normal. Then, the Wednesday before last, Dad took me in for a routine check-up.

‘It was on the morning of that Saturday—when I was in the lake, and you saved me—that’s when we got the news.’ He stopped and didn’t speak for so long I thought he wouldn’t start again. But then he did, his voice quieter than before. ‘Straightaway they called us—me and Dad.’

‘How long do you have?’ I whispered. ‘You’re not really dying, are you? You’re just sick. You’ll get better.’

My hand was shaking. Sacha still held it, tighter now.

I looked at him. His eyes were shiny with tears.

‘It’s a terminal disease, Jewel.’ He said it so softly I had to strain to hear him. ‘My body’s failing.’ Tears were brimming, and he laughed, but it sounded all wrong. ‘I’m going to try to fight it, Jewel, I will. I promise. I want to live. But we have to face the fact that the odds are against me.’

‘God, don’t cry,’ I said. I snatched my hand out of his and shifted away.

‘I’m so sorry, Jewel,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t talk about it before. I wish I had told you earlier. I wish it wasn’t happening at all.’

‘Why?’ I asked, my voice coming out all funny. I held my head in my hands.

‘Why what, Jewel?’

‘Please stop saying my name so much.’

He reached over and tried to grasp my hand again. I shifted further away.

He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Jewel. It’s out of my control.’

‘What happens next?’ I asked, talking into my hands.

He swallowed. ‘I’m going into hospital after my birthday. I’ll be starting chemo.’

‘So you’ll live through it?’ I said. I looked over at him now. ‘You’ll fight it and get better.’

‘We caught it too late,’ Sacha murmured. ‘It’s already spread. They think I have until the end of the year. Longer if the treatment works. I’m going to do whatever I can…’ He muffled a sob by biting on his hand. He was shaking now. Not looking directly at me. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Stop saying that! It means nothing!’ I snapped. I rubbed my eyes, tried to force the tears away. I wanted to move closer to him again, hold his hand. But I couldn’t. I felt angry, betrayed. I shook.

‘Well…I didn’t…you weren’t…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I couldn’t. I’m sorry it’s happening at all.’

‘You don’t have to worry,’ I said. I choked the words out; they hurt my throat. ‘You’re going to be dead.’

‘Oh Jewel,’ said Sacha, his voice shaky. ‘Stop being such a child.’ He swallowed nervously.

‘Maybe I am a child, okay?’ I said, in a low, harsh tone.

‘Let’s just forget about this, for now.’ His voice was calmer. ‘It’s my birthday next week. Let’s not think about the future. Let’s be happy. Let’s just have hope.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ I said, pushing my hair out of my face and looking at him. ‘You’re going to die. There’s no future for you to think about. I actually do have a future.’

‘Not much of a future,’ said Sacha. ‘What are you going to do? Draw?’

I glared at him, and his expression instantly changed. ‘Oh, God, Jewel, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’—his voice cracked— ‘I’m just upset.’

I stood, and started to walk off. Sacha jumped up too. ‘Please just stop for a sec,’ he said. It hurt me to hear the pain in his voice. I stopped and turned.

He pushed hair out of his face. His T-shirt was wrinkled, his hair a mess. With the knowledge I had now—that he was sick—I looked at him and noticed the things I should have noticed before. How thin and tired he looked.

‘What?’ There was hostility in my voice. It was unintended, but it was still there. He cringed at my tone.

‘I don’t know how to fix this,’ he said. ‘I want to, but I really don’t know how.’

‘I’m not sure it can be fixed, Sacha,’ I managed to say. ‘I…I don’t think…I don’t think I can handle it. I can’t. It’s too much for me. It’s all way, way too much.’

He tried to step closer, and I stepped back. Then he stopped. And he nodded. And a tear slipped down his face and he turned his head and rubbed his eyes.

‘I’m leaving. Don’t follow me. Go home, Sacha.’ The words felt strangled as I uttered them.

I walked the rest of the way across the oval, through the park past more people who were up way too early, then down the street to my house. Sacha had not followed me.

I went into the bathroom, crying, and dabbed wet cotton wool balls around my eyes and splashed my face with water. In my bedroom, I put on pyjamas. Then I walked into the living room and peeked out the Venetian blinds. Sacha was sitting facing away from me on the curb at the end of the drive.

I shut the blinds and went back into my room and burrowed into bed, and wondered if you could disappear if you wanted it badly enough.