“What is up with you this morning?” asked Melissa, as she and Jill put beans on to soak and chopped a mountain of cabbage. “I didn’t think grocery shopping and vegetable chopping could put someone in such a good mood.”
“I’m just happy,” said Jill, picking up another cabbage to shred. Every time she thought about Alex she wanted to smile, and she realised now that she wasn’t hiding it very well. “Just … the sun is out. There aren’t as many people at the clinic this morning as there were last week, are there?”
“You’re changing the subject,” said Melissa, looking suspiciously at Jill’s flushed face. “Has something happened? Have you guys had a chat?”
“No, no,” said Jill. “I’m kind of dreading that. The future in that regard is a mystery to me. I’m just happy now, that’s all. And I’m also really glad the whole Mark thing is sorted out at last.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” said Jill. “Yesterday. Things are clear now, I hope.”
“Poor Mark. He did look subdued this morning before he went off to the office.”
“He’ll be okay. He’s a good guy and I’m sure he’ll find the right girl one day.”
“He’s just not Alex!” said Melissa, in a loud whisper.
“Mel!” Jill looked around to make sure nobody had heard.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” smiled Melissa. “Besides – you said next time we were chopping vegetables you’d tell me about the summer when you were seventeen, remember? Here we are, and I’m all ears.”
“Okay then,” said Jill. “I can hardly imagine summer right now, can you? Swimming in the sea, wearing shorts every day?” She shivered and began to tell her friend the story.
At about eleven thirty Jill was in the washroom washing up some of the knives and chopping boards they had been using when over the noise of the clinic in the church she thought she heard Berenice’s voice in the kitchen. She wondered what Berenice was doing away from the clinic – she and Nicky had already done a round of coffee and rusks. Then she heard Alex’s voice as well, put down her cloth and went to see what was happening.
Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, his head on his arms. Berenice was sitting across the table from him and Melissa was putting a glass of water in front of him, concern on her face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jill.
Alex sat up and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “I just need a minute.”
Berenice stood up, adjusting her pink stethoscope around her neck. “There’s a man in the clinic right now with some kind of muscle degeneration and probably dementia as well. It’s a bit close to home, maybe.” She walked around the table and put her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Lighty,” she said. “It’s perfectly understandable. You might be far away from things here but it wasn’t that long ago that you had a terrible shock. Give yourself a break.” She patted his back a few times, then turned and strode back out of the kitchen.
Jill sat down on the bench beside him. He had put his head back down and was breathing hard. “I don’t know what came over me, Jill,” he said, his voice quiet and strained. “His family brought him in because he has this awful bedsore on his back. He was trying to say something – did you hear him? Awful sounds, like an animal.” He sat up and put his head in his hands, pulling so hard on his hair that she knew it must hurt. “He’s so thin, probably starving because he literally can’t eat … it was just like this video I saw the day Dad was diagnosed. It’s burned into my brain. I tried to examine him but I just suddenly felt as if I was going to faint or throw up.”
Jill didn’t know what to say. She put her arm over his back, wishing she could do something to help him. She said a silent prayer, a wordless plea for help. She looked up at Melissa, who stood with a dishcloth in her hand and tears in her eyes. “I’m going next door,” she said softly to Jill, and left the kitchen. Jill nodded her thanks, grateful for the privacy. She knew Alex wouldn’t want anyone to see his despair.
“Maybe I’ve been imagining that I’ve outrun it, coming here,” he said. “But it’s right there in that room. Probably not Huntington’s itself but close enough that it just all came back.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asked quietly, but she knew what the answer would be.
“No, please,” he said, lifting his head again. “I need you.”
Jill’s heart skipped a beat as he said that. She had longed to hear those words, but not like this. It had been easy for the past few days not to think too much about Alex’s dad and Huntington’s, but for him it was always there, still raw and painful.
“Oh Alex,” she said. “I am so sorry you have to go through this.”
“It’s not so much me I’m thinking about today,” he said, wiping his eyes with his hand. “It’s Dad. I still have hope that I will escape it. But it’s a reality for him. I’ve hardly spoken to him since that day, and I can’t believe I’ve been so selfish. I wish I could see him right now and tell him I’m sorry.”
Jill listened, amazed. She had prayed for a change in Alex’s heart and it was happening faster than she could keep up. Up until now, the tragedy of the disease had all been about him, about the loss of his own dreams and plans. Now that he was thinking less of himself, he was thinking more of his family and what it meant to them.
“Come,” she said. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
He stood up, wiping his eyes again. “Good idea,” he said, managing a half-hearted smile.
Alex swapped his borrowed white coat for his parka at the door, pulling the hood over his head. Jill put on her jacket too. The day was sunny and perhaps a little less cold than the previous days, and they walked out of the hall, away from the houses towards the hills. After a few minutes they sat down on a large flat rock beside the path. Life continued in the distance as if nothing was different – animals bleated, children shouted and the laundry lines flapped gently.
“Thanks,” said Alex. “I guess I feel better now.” He didn’t look better. He looked pale and so terribly sad that Jill felt a lump in her throat and tears in her own eyes.
“Is there any reason you can’t give him a call? Now?” asked Jill.
Alex thought about it for a while. “I’ve been avoiding it,” he said. “Maybe you’re right. I should.”
“Why don’t you stay here and I’ll fetch your phone for you,” she said. “Is it charged? The reception is patchy but it should work. I called Simon yesterday.”
“Thanks,” he said, gratefully. “I charged it a few days ago but I haven’t used it.”
Jill got up and walked quickly back to the church. She went in through the kitchen and looked for Alex’s bag in the pile in a corner. She found it and opened it, looking for the phone. It was a little strange to be digging though Alex’s things; but she found it in a side pocket with his car keys. She checked it – it was off but when she powered it on it started booting up and she could see that it had some charge. Then she had another idea and went to her little house to fetch something else, avoiding looking at the patients waiting in the clinic in case she should see the man in the wheelchair.
When she got back to Alex his face was blotchy and his eyes were red. She handed him the phone. “I can go back,” she said. “Maybe you want some privacy.”
“No,” he said again. She could tell from his voice that he had been crying. “Will you stay?” He looked up, reached out and took her hand. She sat down next to him, hardly believing that her hand was in his. He took a breath and with his other hand checked that there was a signal, and found the number. He held the phone up to his ear as it rang. Jill sat still beside him, clasping his hand tightly. She heard when the call was answered.
“Hi Dad,” said Alex.
Jill couldn’t hear clearly what Ed Palmer said to his son. Alex didn’t say a lot. He apologised for leaving so suddenly and worrying his mother. Then he told his Dad how sorry he was about the diagnosis. Ed spoke for quite a while after that, Alex not saying much in return. “Thanks Dad,” he said after a few minutes. “I’ll be home on Thursday. We’ll figure this out together.” Jill heard the silence on the other end, and then Ed talking again. “I love you too, Dad,” said Alex, and ended the call. He put the phone in his pocket, still clasping Jill’s hand tightly. Her hand felt stiff and sore but she didn’t care. She would have endured a lot more if it could give him some comfort.
Alex looked into the distance at the mountains. For a while he closed his eyes, turning his head so that the weak sunshine flooded his face. Then he turned to Jill, realising how tightly he had been holding her hand.
“Sorry!” he said, letting go. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not much,” said Jill, opening and closing her fingers to get the blood flowing again.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am so glad I’ve spoken to him. I needed to do that. He’s amazing. Stronger than I am, for sure.”
They looked at each other for a moment and Jill knew that sometime in the future they would have to talk about what all this meant for them. They would have to talk about the hand-holding and the sitting close. Things were very different compared to a few days ago, and they both knew it. But now was not the time. She dug in her pocket.
“Look what I had in my bag. I brought it from home but I’d forgotten about it. What do you think?”
Alex looked down at the slab of chocolate she held in her hand and smiled. “That is beautiful,” he said. “I’m getting used to all the vegetables and pap but that is a sight for sore eyes.”
She laughed, breaking off a piece for him. “You’re the doctor,” she said. “Doesn’t chocolate have something in it that makes you feel better? Endorphins or something?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Tryptophan. Releases serotonin, the feelgood chemical. They say it’s the same brain chemistry as being in love.”
He looked at her and popped the chocolate in his mouth. She laughed, and ate some herself. In any other situation, it would not have been unjustified to assume he was flirting with her. But at least he was smiling again. She had been there for him when he had needed her, and for now, that was enough.