Breeze of Life (2 page)

“I’m so pissed at you right now, baby girl. I want to yell and scream and spank your ass red. But you know what’s worse than feeling all that anger?” I shook my head in bewilderment. He let go of my hand, his eyes downcast with sorrow and disappointment. He looked so dejected, so forlorn. My heart ached for another reason now, guilt. As if I needed any more reason to despise myself. A tear escaped my eyes and led a lonely trail down my cheek.

“You didn’t tell me. I thought I was your friend. Hell, I thought I was your best friend.” He ran his hands through his hair in agitation. My lips trembled. That lonely tear wasn’t going to be lonely much longer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and a sob quickly followed it. Harper’s crestfallen look quickly disappeared, replaced behind a fierce look, one of determination, one of strength. He reached for me and dragged me from under my cocoon of blankets, placing me in his lap as his strong arms surrounded me. My sobbing grew ugly and uncontrollable. Harper was here and not only mad as hell, he was hurt. “I’m sorry,” I cried. His arms clenched tighter and it almost hurt but it was a good hurt. It was Harper, he was here and I was in his arms, finally.

“Shhhhh, settle down, Breeze, you’re going to make yourself sick.” His hands rubbed my back as I tried to get myself under control. It was not going to happen. When sadness enveloped me like this, it seemed I could cry for hours. “It’s okay, baby girl, I’m here now and that’s all that matters.” His voice was trembling and I knew he was moments away from losing it himself.  Harper never lost control, he was the master of it and I refused to let him crumble because of me. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and gradually found some resemblance of composure.

“I should have told you,” I said in a weak voice.

“And I should have called. I knew something was up with your emails and I still didn’t call. I’m as much to blame.” His arms still surrounded me with staunch determination. I rested my head against his chest, savoring the sound of his steady heartbeat.

“You hungry?” he finally asked after a long silence. I was starving but selfishly wasn’t ready to let him go. Without warning, Harper lifted me with him as he stood. He didn’t stagger or waver under my weight.

“I can walk.” My protest was feeble at best.

“I know, just let me take care of you, please.” I settled my head back on his shoulder as he carried me down the long hall and into the wide open living room. When he placed me on a stool and flicked on the light, I became uncomfortably aware of the fact that my head was bare to him. No wrap, no hat, no hair. Panic set in and I nervously jumped down from the stool. Harper gave me a quizzical glance.

“Bathroom,” I whispered as I quickly disappeared back the way we had come. In the bathroom, I grabbed a scarf and skilfully wrapped it around my head. My long blonde hair usually sat in a messy bun on top of my head. I never got more enthusiastic than a high ponytail but since losing all those locks I had become a connoisseur of head decoration. When I glanced down my body I realized I was wearing nothing more than Harper’s shirt and a pair of very ordinary knickers. I changed into one of my own shirts and a pair of cotton boxers. I washed my face in an attempt to look half decent, which was ridiculous, I was never going to get close to it. Hell, I was bald, skinny, pale, and had just cried up a storm. I must have looked like death. On a shrug and a sigh I ambled back out to the kitchen, ready to face Harper, well, sort of ready.

Chapter 2

Dropping In

Dropping in is when a surfer ‘drops-in’ or catches a wave without priority

“Cheese and Vegemite toasties?” Harper asked, taking in my change of clothes and the addition to my head. I nodded while nervously tugging at the scarf to make sure it was in place.

“You don’t need that you know,” Harper quietly admitted as he turned his back to me and began to prepare our toasties.

“I’m not used to being around people without it. George is the only person who's seen me without it.” Harper looked back over his shoulder at me and he looked pissed.

“Yeah, well I’ve known you a hell of a lot longer than him so I would have thought you’d be past hiding from me, Breeze.” I couldn’t hold his disappointed gaze and I all too quickly looked away. How did I tell him that it was more important that he not see me like this? I didn’t care what George thought of my appearance. How Harper saw me mattered though. It shouldn’t have, we were friends after all and he had seen me sick before, just not this kind of sick. 

“What happened to the couch?” Harper’s question broke my thoughts and brought me crashing back to the present moment with painful awareness.

“The old one was ruined,” I whispered without further explanation. Ruined didn’t begin to explain how much I hated that old couch. Right there in our lounge room, on that old couch which really had been in perfect condition, Harper had taken Naomi. He had come to me and told me he loved me, he had kissed me then he had been with her, there. I didn’t mean to stumble across them that night. God I wished I could erase the vision from my mind. I had George dump that damn couch on the pavement and I had bought a new one. A ‘clean’ one.

“I like it. It’s big,” Harper continued, pushing a toasted Vegemite and cheese sandwich across the counter to me. He’d cut it into triangles, just the way I liked it. “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” I had no idea which elephant he was referring to, there were a few. In fact, the room was getting awfully crowded and I was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic.  “How sick are you?” I was relieved this was the elephant in question. It was easier to deal with. It might scare the hell out of me and it had dragged me and my confidence to the depths of hell, but it was easier than dealing with my feelings for Harper and his drunken mishap.

“Well, I’m assuming George called you, so I’m assuming he filled you in on the basics.”

Harper nodded. “He did, and now I want everything, so humor me and spill.”

“I’ve got cancer, Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I’ve undergone chemotherapy and radiation therapy. I finished my last course of radiation two weeks ago and now I wait.”

“Wait for what?” he asked with a little impatience.

“There will be follow-up appointments and more blood tests. Even if the cancer is gone this time there is a chance it could come back. Survival rate in adults under the age of twenty-five is high, I was reasonably fit and healthy before.” Silence filled the large living space until I finally broke it with the harsh reality of my situation. “But there are no assurances when it comes to cancer. The cancer can always come back. I could live months or years.” I shook my head in frustration. “I need to mentally prepare myself for that. I need to somehow wrap my head around the fact that I’m going to die sooner rather than later.” That pissed Harper off again. His eyes focused on me with an intensity that made me literally squirm.

“So what, being positive and all that shit isn’t your style anymore? You’re just going to accept you’re dying and give up?” His words hurt because they were the truth. I had always lived with conviction and optimism and I knew my attitude now was destructive, but it was the truth. I couldn’t even begin to imagine dying. The last eight months should have prepared me, but all they did was terrify me.

“It’s not giving up, it’s called accepting reality!” I argued, my voice hard and bitter.

Harper dragged my empty plate away and dumped it in the sink with unnecessary force. He then walked straight past me and grabbed my guitar which sat propped against the wall like a long lost friend. I hadn’t touched it in months. While I still enjoyed listening to music, the desire to play seemed to have fled my body. Harper collapsed back on to the couch and began to strum the guitar in a lazy tune that didn’t resemble any song, just random chords.  Under his hands, the guitar sung like no other, in fact, it was Harper who had taught me to play. Nobody else knew he was as good as he was. Harper had no desire to play in front of people and strangely enough I was thrilled that this was our little secret. It was something I got to keep of Harper that nobody else could touch. Until he found his Mrs. Somerville. Surely he would play for her, the girl who would be his forever. The thought that he would share his music and life with someone else stung.

“Well, Breeze, I’m adopting a different attitude,” Harper said loudly. I glanced at him sitting there on the couch like he had never left. Like the murky waters that had been stirred between us didn’t exist.  “I’m not going to accept that you will die sooner rather than later. I will only accept life.” I sighed and rubbed my temples hoping to soothe the dull headache that had set up camp there.

“You got a headache? George said you’ve been getting headaches?” Harper asked, his fingers hesitating on the strings of the guitar.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just you’ve been back for like an hour and you’re already irritating me.” I collapsed into the big recliner that sat in the corner of the room. It was my favorite place to sit in gloomy silence, staring at the beautiful world beyond the enormous glass doors and windows that spanned the apartment. Harper’s apartment, our apartment overlooked the ocean and I could sit for hours and just watch the waves roll in.

“You’re welcome,” Harper grinned. Trust him to find content in my frustration. “So, where’s Danny McDick? I thought he would have been all cozy and moved in by now.” As Harper’s fingers began to strum a gentle tune, a much angrier tune thrummed through my body. Danny’s betrayal had hurt though not nearly as much as Harper’s. Who was I kidding, Harper had never betrayed me. He wasn’t mine, I had made that glaringly obvious when I told him we couldn’t cross that line. That our friendship meant more to me than romance when inside I really did love this man with all my heart. But that’s what made me hold firm on the whole friendship thing. I had seen Harper with women, he moved through them like a rat on a mission. Quantity obviously beat quality and I didn’t want to become another number. I couldn’t exist without Harper so if keeping him at arm’s length meant keeping Harper then that’s a sacrifice I would make. When I finally glanced up, Harper had stopped playing again and those beautiful blue eyes had turned arctic cold.

“What did that fucker do?” he growled. I loved his devotion, his passionate, angry concern.

“Nothing that you didn’t guess the moment you met him.” I could see Harper’s hand clench in a vice like grip around the neck of my guitar and I hoped to hell he didn’t lose it and smash it or something. It was an expensive guitar, a Maton Messiah, uniquely Australian, expensive as hell and worth every penny that thankfully Harper had spent on it.

“Breeze, don’t be vague. I think there have been enough secrets this year.” My temper flared. It didn’t take much to stir the anger within me these days. Although I felt the hand I had been dealt this year excused me losing my temper now and again. Harper’s snide remark certainly pushed me in a way that was better left alone. I had kept my illness a secret for many reasons. First and foremost was to allow Harper the “ass-kick” of a year he wanted, the “ass-kick” of a year he preached about the day he won the Quicksilver Pro right here on the Gold Coast, home soil. Even if there hadn’t of been a declaration of love, a kiss, Naomi, I would have still let him have his year.

“You really want the dirty sordid details of our break up, Harper?” I yelled. Harper seemed taken aback by my anger and with good reason. This wasn’t me, this anger, this turmoil, this wasn’t the Bree he knew, I wasn’t the Bree I knew. “The month after my hair began falling out I turned up at his apartment for dinner, unannounced. I had been pretty sick for the entire week and I was having a good day so I thought I would surprise him. Bad move on my part, or perhaps a good move, at least I learnt the truth about Danny McDick. He was fucking Naomi on his couch, her legs were hanging from his shoulders and he was fucking her while I stood there like a bald ugly moron.” I had used the F-bomb which most likely shocked the hell out of Harper. I didn’t swear, until now and damn if it didn’t feel good. My voice trembled as the image of my boyfriend screwing another girl filled my mind. It made me feel ill and mostly because it reminded me of finding Harper in the exact same position. God, that image was burnt into my brain like some sick movie clip on repeat.  I hated it, I hated her and in this moment I almost hated him. “Seems Naomi has this thing for fucking all the men in my life on couches.” I was done, my emotions wrung out, my heart split right in half. Tears began to fall in an easy cadence that I was far too used to. Harper looked stunned, mortified even as his eyes darted to the new couch then back to me.  “I saw you,” I sobbed in defeat. “You said you loved me then you were with her.” Admitting my pain wasn’t about Danny’s betrayal at all and it felt like a weight had been lifted from my sagging shoulders. This pain was about Harper’s betrayal. He rubbed a hand down his face, unable to look at me any longer, and why would he? I had just acknowledged the other elephant in the room and guys didn’t do this kind of elephant. It was too awkward, too emotional. This was Harper’s drunken mistake coming back to bite him on the ass. This was going to make those murky waters of our relationship a whole lot murkier. Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut? We could have avoided this whole ugly confrontation. I had enough to deal with, I didn’t need this as well. I turned and swiftly left the room leaving Harper to all the space I’m sure he needed. As my tears flowed with the force of a storm, I slipped into my bedroom and back into my bed. I was crying so hard I didn’t even here my door click open and I barely noticed the bed dip behind me as Harper crawled under the sheets. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. Even if I had wanted to, I was too exhausted to fight his embrace.

“That’s why you replaced the couch,” he whispered the acknowledgement.  “Damn, baby girl, I’m so sorry. I was drunk, it was a douche bag moment of epic proportion and if I could go back and do everything differently I would.” Although Harper needed to say this, needed to clear the air, my heart still broke. He had told me he loved me and he had kissed me and now he regretted it. “I shouldn’t have told you like that, you didn’t deserve me treating you the way I did,” he paused and I realized I was holding my breath. “But I meant what I said to you, Breeze. That thing with Naomi was a combination of booze and stubborn pride.” Hold on, he didn’t regret telling me he loved me? I rolled a little so I could see his face. “Is that why you didn’t call me?” The concern in his eyes told me just how much he regretted his indiscretion, which wasn’t really an indiscretion at all.