Never Let Go (Take My Hand) (3 page)

Emily

After
being at the
garage all morning I came home for lunch. There’s no way I will
ever
eat in that place, surrounded by
grease and grime. I worked extra hard today, stamping all the paid invoices and
getting the unpaid ones ready to mail. I also booked in three services and an
oil change for later in the week and started looking into how to make a website
for the place. I had a couple more loose ends to tie up after lunch and then I
should be ready to take a day off tomorrow to spend with Rachel and her
parents. We were meeting up tonight too, just the two of us. I didn’t know what
Jared planned to do with himself but selfishly I didn’t care. I was desperate
to spend alone time with my best friend.

I decided once I’d made up my ham and cheese sandwich
I would text Dexter. There was an MOT booked in at one o’clock so they needed
to hurry their bums back from the auction. Turned out that wasn’t necessary
though, because just as I was sawing my butty in two, I heard the front door
slam closed.

“Wow, who died?” I joked, when I turned round to see a
very pale Chris and very solemn looking Dexter standing in the doorway. Dexter
looked to Chris as if he were waiting for him to say something, and the vacant
stare Chris offered in returned sent waves of panic running through my veins.

“Doll,” Dexter breathed, sweeping the floor with his
eyes. “Come sit down. We need to talk to you.”

“What is it? What the hell’s going on?” I demanded.
Tears were already beginning to bubble in the corners of my eyes. The haunting
expression overwhelming both of their faces wordlessly told me something
serious had happened. “Chris?” I prompted when I got no reply.

“Dex’s right, Emmie. Come and sit down.”

Struggling to swallow the knot of nerves and fear
clogging my throat, I gingerly followed them into the living room and sat down
cautiously on the edge of the sofa. Chris took the armchair and Dexter sat next
to me, placing his hand on my knee. For a few seconds I just stared at his
hand, transfixed by the slight rubbing motion.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on now?” I
asked timidly, looking up to meet Chris’ eyes. I was almost sure I wasn’t
prepared for whatever answer he had for me.

“I’ve got cancer, Emmie. A brain tumour.”

My jaw dropped open and my bottom lip began to
tremble. Tears were stinging my eyes like thousands of tiny pins were being
stabbed into them from every angle, and when my pulse started throbbing in my
ears, I realised I wasn’t breathing.

“Emily?” Dexter whispered my name but it startled me
enough to force a gust of air into my lungs. After a few harsh breaths I began
to focus again and found Chris kneeling in front of me.

“W-w… what does it mean? I mean… when will you get
better?”

“I’m not going to get better, Emmie. I’m going to d-“

“DON’T SAY THAT!” I screamed, shrugging away from him
when he tried to take hold of my hands. “Don’t you DARE say that!” I jumped up
from my seat, pacing the room and pulling at my hair. “Why would you tell me
that, Chris?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, rising to his feet
and walking cautiously towards me. Dexter stayed sitting down. His eyes bored
into mine as if he was trying to see what was happening behind them.

“And you knew about this?” I blasted. “You knew about
this and you didn’t tell me! How could you, Dexter?”

“It’s not his fault,” Chris interjected. “He found out
yesterday by accident. I begged him not to tell you until I’d been to the
hospital this morning.”

“So that’s where you were this morning? You fed me
some bullshit story about an auction when really you were sneaking off to let
some pompous doctor make my brother believe he’s going to di… that he’s sick.”
I changed my words at the last second. I refused to say the ‘D’ word because it
wasn’t true. It WASN’T true!

“Emily please,” Dexter begged, and now he too was
coming towards me. It was too much.
They
were
too much. My legs took off to the stairs of their own accord and I dragged
myself up them. I felt winded and confused. And heavy – like someone had
planted a giant boulder in my belly.

“Emily?” Dexter called after me, followed immediately
by Chris saying ‘I’ll go.’

Despite hearing hurried footsteps follow me up the
stairs, I ran straight to my room and slammed the door shut behind me. Then I
threw myself onto the bed with my back against the headboard and hugged my
knees, rocking back and forth and wailing into the empty air.

“Emmie?” Chris called softly from the other side of
the door. When I didn’t answer, he came in anyway. “We need to talk about
this,” he said, settling down on the end of the bed. His voice was so raw and
dripping with pain. Every part of me wanted to hurl myself at him – hold
him tight and never let him go. But I just… couldn’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I spat petulantly.

“Well you’re going to,” he ordered. “Dammit, Emmie, if
I have to deal with this then so do you. I wish to God you didn’t… but it’s
happening whether you ignore it or not.”

“But I can’t!” I tried to yell but my voice cracked.
“You can’t… y-you can’t leave me, Chris! You’re the only family I’ve got.”

“That’s not true,” he disagreed – but he didn’t
know the half of it. I’ve never told anyone except Dexter just how much my mum
hates me – how much she blames me for my sister’s death. “I know Mum and
Dad don’t always know how to show it, but they love you. You’re their
daughter.”

“And you’re their son, but that didn’t stop them
disowning you at the drop of a hat did it?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is. I have other issues with them.”

I planned to ask him ‘what kind of issues’, I even
opened my mouth to toss the words out… but it turned out I just didn’t care
anymore.

“They must be able to help you. Doctors are so clever
these days.”

“I have what’s called a glioblastoma multiforme. Grade
4. It’s the most aggressive type of tumour there is and because of
where
it is in my brain, they can’t
operate.”

“But what about chemotherapy? Or… what’s the other
one…” I took a second to wrack my frazzled brain. “Radiotherapy. Or drugs?
There must be some kind of drug out there, right?”

“I start chemo this Friday,” he told me, and the
relief that surged through my veins caused my rigid muscles to relax. “But that
will only slow it down. They
can’t
cure
me, Emmie. I
am
going to die.”

In my mind I was screaming at him again –
demanding he tell me it wasn’t true. I was kicking and fighting and practically
convulsing in a fit of rage. But when Chris scooted closer to me and placed his
hand on my shoulder, I realised I was completely motionless. The only thing moving
was the mournful stream of tears trickling down my cheeks.

“I promise to fight this as long as I can,” Chris
began. “I don’t want to leave you, Emmie, and I swear I will fight this fucker
until I take my last breath. But… I don’t have that long, and I don’t want to
spend my last few months like this – surrounded by such sadness.”

“Months?” I gasped before throwing my hand over my
mouth. “
Months?
” I repeated, silently
willing him to tell me I’d misheard.

“Doctor says eight to ten.”

“No,” I whimpered. “No, no no… this can’t be
happening.” I shook my head, wishing I could shake away the things I’d heard in
the past hour. “I
need
you! You’re my
big brother, my whole family… you can’t leave me alone.” I knew deep down I was
being selfish. He wasn’t doing this on purpose and the rational part of me knew
there was nothing he could do to change it. But… the pain in my chest was
excruciating. I needed to beg someone –
anyone
. I needed to be told this was all a huge mistake. If it
wasn’t, if my brother really was going to…
die
…
then I didn’t know how I was supposed to cope with that.

“You won’t be alone. Whatever you think, you’ve got
Mum and Dad. You’ve got Rachel and Jared and a whole new family here with
Dexter and Sarah. You have so many people who love you, people who will help
you through this.”

“You know, I was actually going to go and talk to Mum
and Dad this week. I was going to have it out with them – demand to know
why Mum hates me so much. But now… I guess none of that even matters.”

“Emily, she doesn’t hate you. Why do you think that
all of a sudden?”

“It’s not all of a sudden, Chris. She’s made it clear
for as long as I can remember.”

“What are you talking about?” he pressed, confusion
forcing his eyebrows together.

“Mum blames me for Livvie’s death,” I shrugged. “But
I’m not putting this crap on you now. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“That’s bollocks, Emmie! If something’s bothering you
then I want to know what it is. Why on earth would she blame you? You were just
a child.”

“I don’t know why, I just know she does. She’s told me
more than once. I’ve tried so hard to make her happy over the years, to make
her proud of me… that’s why I went to university. I was so sure that would
please her… but-”

“Whoa, slow down. I had no idea things were this bad.
Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you got out of it. I figured you didn’t want
to be bothered by anything to do with them anymore.”

“You’re probably right. But I’d have been bothered
about
you
. I can’t believe you kept
this from me. No kid should have to grow up feeling like that.”

“And what could you have done? Nothing. It’s my own
fault. She only treats me like crap because I let her. I didn’t even realise
that until I started going to therapy with Dexter.”

“And what the fuck does Dad think about all this?”

“You know Dad – he lives in blissful ignorance.
I know he loves me… I just sometimes wonder if he loves Mum more. He must do,
otherwise he would have stuck up for you. It was all Mum who wanted you gone
but he didn’t do a damn thing to stop it. And now you’re going to…” Jeez that
word – the ‘D’ word. Why was it so difficult to say? Why did it feel like
it was wedged in my throat, choking me every time I tried? “And they’ve missed
out on all these years with you. Well I’m glad. They deserve it. They deserve
to know what they’ve lost. They never deserved your love in the first place!”

My voice grew higher, more vengeful with each
sentence. I didn’t realise until Chris pulled me into a hug that by the end of
my rant, I was screaming.

“I don’t want them to know,” he whispered in my ear,
making me pull back from his embrace. He must’ve caught the question in my eyes
because he added, “I mean it. I don’t want them to find out about this.”

“You can’t be serious! Chris, they’re going to find
out when… when this is over. Or what, you want me to keep that from them too?”

“They’ve not wanted to know me for years, Emmie. I’ll
be damned if I let this change anything. I don’t want their sympathy… not that
I’m convinced I’d get it anyway.”

“You can’t put that kind of burden on me. It’s not
fair. This is hard enough without me having to
lie
about it. If they ask about you, I don’t know if I’d be able to
keep it together.”

“Oh come on. How likely is that? Do they
ever
ask about me?”

“Actually, Dad rang while we were still in Ohio. He
asked how you were.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“So what did he say when you told him.”

“Um…”

“If you’re not prepared to lie to
them,
then don’t you dare lie to
me
.”

“He said he shouldn’t have asked and changed the
subject,” I admitted. “But it’s a start, right? It proves he still thinks about
you.”

“Too little too late. If this situation has taught me
anything, it’s that life really is too short to waste your time on people who
aren’t worth it.”

“They’re your parents.”

“Well I sure as hell don’t feel like their son.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said. My voice
caught on the last word and when I blinked, it gave my unshed tears all the
force they needed to start dripping from my eyes again.

“I’m not gone yet, sis. And I plan to have so much
fucking fun before I am. You with me?”

“Chris, I…”

“You can let my last memories of you be watching you
cry… or having some fun with your big brother. So, Emmie… are you with me?” he
repeated in a more demanding tone.

“Yes,” I agreed with a weak smile. “I’ll do anything
for you.”

“There’s my girl,” he said before bringing my back
into his embrace. “It’ll be okay, you know.”
How?
How will the fact my brother is going to die
ever
be okay? “Now go downstairs and put
Dexter out of his misery. The poor sod’s been tearing himself up about keeping
this from you.”