Playing My Love (17 page)

  I took a gulp from my glass, nursing the stem
carefully.

  "I don't know what I'm going to do
, Jazz.  When he goes.  When he's gone"  I said quietly.

  "He still
looks so healthy.  It's hard to believe he's dying.  I mean, apart from losing a shit load of weight, and looking a tad yellow…"

  "Jazz, please?"
  I cringed and she held her hand up apologetically.

  "Sorry.
  How's he holding up?"

  "You know Gray, he turns everything into 'an experience'.
  His philosophy is that anyone can die suddenly at any time, in a car crash, or an accident in the home, so at least he gets the chance to say goodbye and do things he always…"  I broke off, unable to finish the sentence and swigging the wine instead.  Jazz put her hand over mine and squeezed it gently.

  By the time Chris and Gray returned (with a hideous amount of meat that would feed a small army)
we'd finished our first bottle and were outside getting the barbeque set up for them.  We lit the coals and got everything out onto the garden table just as the first fat droplets of rain dropped down from the overcast sky.  The men dismissed our suggestion of cancelling to eat inside, so between us we carried the smoking barbeque and table of food into the barn moments before the clouds literally opened up.

  Lounging on bales of hay while they cooked for us, Chris told us about how Doc
might
have had anal sex with a lady-boy in Thailand after getting insanely drunk one night.  Although it had sort of been what I'd expected, I was still shocked, especially when Chris said Gray had admitted (again, while very, very drunk) that he'd enjoyed it!

  By now, jokes were flying around about rainbow smiles, lady-boys and expensive hand relief, and Gray noticed we didn't have anything on Jazz.

  "Come on babe, you must know something we don't?"  he said to me.

  "What about Chris?  He lives with her!"

  "Honey, we all know he's in
way
too much trouble as it is to dish anything out on me!"  Jazz drawled.

  "Not that I would have anyway
"  Chris smiled sweetly.

  "You're such a liar!  Don't burn my chicken, I like it juicy."

  "Yes ma'am!"  He saluted her before glancing down, then quickly turning over the chicken on the griddle with a slightly worried look on his face.  She looked at me and shook her head with a sigh.

  "So
come on, Ali.  Spill the beans!  What juicy stories have you got from growing up with Jazz.  I don't believe for a second that you don't know any of her secrets!"

  Hmm.  I knew plenty, but most of them were way too personal and would go with me to the grave.  Like, for example, the time her brother threatened to kill her and her mum in their sleep if they didn't give him money for drugs.  His threat had been serious.  He broke in one night and doused the whole house in petrol
, then tried to light a match before one of the neighbours heard the screams and came running in to help.  For two weeks after that, despite him being locked away and no longer posing an immediate threat, Jazz had peed the bed and suffered from terrifying nightmares.  She'd been sixteen.  Or the time she'd got really depressed after her mum had a stroke and spent three months in hospital.  Jazz had hit the bottle, hard.  She'd called me up one particularly bad night with some garbled sobs of goodbye.  Luckily I'd been on my way over to see her and was only a few minutes away when I got the call.  Luckily, because she was in the process of eating painkillers washed down with vodka, and had a kitchen knife in her hand ready to make sure the job was done properly.  I'd wrestled the knife from her hand, cutting my own quite badly in the process.  The sight of my blood seemed to calm her down, and after a long heart to heart, I suggested she come to stay with me and share my room until we went to University, to which she agreed.  The cut on my hand was blamed on breaking a glass in the washing up bowl, and we never spoke of that night again.

  A slow
smile crept on my face as I remembered something I
could
tell them.  Jazz watched me very carefully as I sat forward.

  "Well, there is something…"  I started mysteriously.

  "Be very careful what you say next, Ali-bar"  she warned, smiling dangerously.  I smiled innocently back.

  "Do you remember years ago, when mobile phones had that hands free function where if you were driving, it would answer automatically after say three rings?  Well, Jazz had one of these phones, with this function, and I called her up one day while she was driving, but she didn't hear it ring…because she was too busy…"  I gave a quick glance at her.  "…singing to Love Shack!"

  Jazz was shaking her head disappointedly at me while Chris and Gray erupted.  We all knew Jazz couldn't sing to save her life, and she scorned people who went to karaoke bars.

  "But she hates that song!"
  Chris said, waving the spatula at her.

  "There's a very good reason why I hate that song.  Finish the story
,
Alison
!  Tell them what you did!"

  "I hung up and called a few of our friends, and got them to call her as well!  She missed about four calls, but we all got treated to Love Shack!"

  "Actually, the last callers got treated to Rick Astley, Never Gonna Give You Up, but my battery died before I could humiliate myself further.  Everywhere I went for the rest of my Uni life, I was known as the Love Shack girl, and no one would tell me why.  It took me ages to get it out of Ali.  And
that
is why I hate that song!"

 
"Didn't I tell you in a game of truth or dare?"

  "Yes.  I dared you to give Frank a lap dance and you refused, so I said if you told me the Love Shack story I'd let you off
wussing out."

  "You told me to give Frank a naked lap dance,
and that was why I refused!"

  "Ali, a dare is a dare.  You
wussed!"

  "Hey,
ya see a faded sign at the side of the road, it says fif-teen miles to the lo-o-o-ve sha-ack!"  Chris sang, purposely out of key in a woman's voice and wiggling his hips.  "Whoo!"

  Everyone laughed, even Jazz, but then I caught
Gray's eye.  My laughter died in my mouth, although to everyone else I was still laughing with them.  He was in pain but hiding it from us, including me.  For the next half hour I kept a close eye on him, noting the little winces he gave as he pretended to help Chris look after the food.  I didn't want to embarrass him in front of our friends, so I waited until he excused himself to use the toilet.  After a minute had passed, I followed him in, getting soaked from the rain as I did.

  "Gray?"  I called out as I walked through the cottage
, knowing exactly where he'd be.  Sure enough, the bathroom door was locked.  "Hey, it's me.  Open up?"

  "I'll be out in a few minutes.  Something I ate didn't agree with me"  he said, forcing a chuckle.

  "I know you're lying, Gray.  Open the door.  Now!"  There was a pause before I heard movement and the door was unlocked.  I opened it, and gasped when I saw him.

  "I'm okay.  I've just taken my painkillers, but I needed a minute while they kicked in."

  "No, Gray, you're not okay, goddammit!  Look at you!"

  He looked quite taken back by my anger, but I couldn't help myself.  He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his skin had a scary yellow glow which I hadn't noticed so much out in the barn.

  "I'm…"

  "Don’t you
dare
say you're okay!"  I shouted.  "You're not okay, Gray, you're…"

  "Dying?"

  "Yes!"

  "And I know I am, Ali, which is why I'm trying to have a good time with our friends.  Because I don't know how many more days like this I'll get."
  He stepped toward me and went to touch my arm, but I recoiled away from him.  "Ali, come on?"

  "Just…I can't.  I'm sorry."

  "Look, I'm starting to feel better already.  Come back outside with me?"

  "You go.  I'
ll be out in a minute"  I mumbled, rubbing a tired hand over my face.  Respecting that I didn't want to be touched right now, he quietly obeyed.  I went into the bathroom he'd vacated and locked the door behind me before sitting on the edge of the tub and taking several deep breaths.

 
(Now, let me just interject at this point.  When I look back on these final few months with Gray, a lot of it tends to be quite murky in my memory, especially toward the end.  You see, I've tried to focus on remembering the good times we had, like this weekend, and when he was healthy.  I'd started distancing myself from him the day I spoke to the doctor and was told there would be no miracle.  Gray
would
die.  That was also near enough the same day I stopped calling him Doc and started to call him Gray.  I hated the word Doc, irrationally linking it to his illness.  And the more pain I saw him in, the more I withdrew.  Like I had just then when he'd gone to touch me.  It wasn't because I didn't want him to touch me, although I could see by the hurt look in his eyes that that was precisely what he'd thought.  No, it was because I had to try and get used to dealing with being upset on my own.

  So, a part of this distancing was to do with how I was sectioning my memories for later.  The good memories I enjoyed and cherished, and put into my 'keep forever' part of my mind.  The bad ones, the painful heart wrenching ones, I pushed straight into the 'forget asap' part and just ignored them until they went away.  Of course, some were too strong to just forget, and lingered, but still.  You couldn't win them all, eh?
)

  "Ali?"  Jazz calling my name through the door brought me back to my senses, and I realised I'd sort of zoned out.  I rubbed my face hard, trying to get some circulation there to wake me up.

  "Yeah?"

  "Let me in."

  "I'm just about to pee!"

  "So?"

  Sighing, I opened the door.

  "Doc said you were upset.  What's up babe?"

  I shrugged.

  "He had a beer or two, and now he's in a lot of pain.  Yeah, I'm upset."

  "Don't let me stop you from your pee"  she said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.  I raised my eyebrows at her, then defiantly started to undo my jeans to sit on the toilet.

  "So, you're shitting me, right?  You're upset because he had a couple of beers?"

  "Yes!  You don't understand, it's not good for him in his condition…"

  "Ali,
nothing
is gonna be good for him in his condition!  Jesus Christ!  Stop being his nurse for fucks sake and start being his wife!"  She snapped, exasperated.  "Do you know, since we've been here, you've hardly gone near him, and now you're pissed cos he's relaxed and enjoying himself?  What the fuck is wrong with you?  Honey, if I had less than six months left to live, I'd be doing fucking
everything
I shouldn't, believe me!"

  I had no answer for her that she wouldn't destroy within seconds for being incredibly selfish so I just remained quiet, and for a second my pee was the only sound in the bathroom, so I clenched my muscles and stopped it.  Jazz frowned and tilted her head at me.

  "Did you just stop your wee?"

  I nodded, slightly embarrassed.  She looked impressed however.

  "Great vaginal control hun!"

  I couldn't help it.  I laughed, and she laughed with me, but as I did I was unable to hold my pee in and this made us giggle even harder!

  "How much have you got in there?"  she gasped, and I shook my head in disbelief as, just when I thought I'd finished, more drops dribbled out.  Eventually, my bladder satisfactorily emptied, I managed to get off the toilet and join Jazz next to the mirror where I washed my hands in the sink.

  "Seriously, though.  Go easy on the guy.  He
's just trying to be happy and you can help him with that, you know?"

  "Yeah.  I know."

  We returned to the men, who ecstatically told us we'd just missed a rainbow in the sky and thrust more food our way, to which we both groaned, completely stuffed already.  I put my arms around Gray and kissed his cheek, whispering 'sorry' as I did.  He smiled, and cuddled me back, pleased we were good again.

  Inside though, I felt myself distancing from him just a little bit more.

  Saturday passed far too quickly, and on the Sunday, I began to start feeling anxious.  I'd felt the same anxiety when Gray and I had left London and been seen off by our friends.  I knew I didn't want them to leave.  Ever.

  We all enjoyed a huge roast beef dinner before engaging in a scrabble marathon that took us into
mid-afternoon, but all too soon we were putting their bags into the jeep and driving them back to the train station.  My stomach was like lead as we waved them off, missing my friend already before she was even out of my sight.

  Gray and I were quiet on the way home, both lost in our own thoughts.  When we got back, I went straight to the shed to practice on my guitar, and stayed out there for nearly an hour before I set it to one side and picked up my phone.  I dialled Darcy, an almost desperate need to talk to her consuming me, and when she answered on the third ring, a wave of comfort and relief swept over me like a hit of morphine, taking the edge off things.

  We talked for a long time, discussing our Friday night out, her upcoming exams, a cake Nicki had tried making, a book she'd just read and wanted to lend me.  It wasn't until my battery beeped to let me know it was about to cut us off that I realised just how long we'd been chatting for.  Regretfully, we said a hasty goodbye before hanging up.  I picked up my guitar again, tinkering away on it, not really concentrating on any particular tune.

  Tuesday, although only a day away, seemed too far away.

                                          
                    
10

                                               Lessons In Love

  By the time Darcy arrived for our lesson on Tuesday, I was receiving strange looks from Gray who'd asked me what exactly we got up to down in the shed, because I was behaving so strangely.  If truth be told, I felt like I was clucking (not that I'd ever done drugs to experience clucking first hand, but from the way I'd seen addicts behave, I knew I was pretty close) and the more I tried to curb it, the worse I got.
  I found I couldn't concentrate on anything, and nervously drank endless cups of tea (made by myself of course) to keep busy.