The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer (10 page)

I sniff as tears coat my eyes. “Clearly everyone you know does.”

“Jen… forget him,” he says in a firm tone. “He’s nothing but money.” I sigh and lower my head. “Look at me,” he places his hands on my face to lift. “I love you Jen, and I don’t care what you did in this world to survive.” His adam’s apple slides down his neck. “Don’t ever feel ashamed,” he says with big stern eyes on me.

I can’t agree with him. My past is stained with disgraceful things that will stick with me forever. Grayson may be able to look beyond that. But it’s no good when I can’t do the same myself.          

As soon as Jen entered her house I let the fury loose, speeding through the streets in my Range Rover. I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over. Right now, the mood I’m in, I’m thinking it would have been best if I had. My ignorant, asshole, dick of a Father, really does deserve to be put down for how he treated Jen. It’s been a long time coming, brewing up inside me for years. Hell, I don’t need him. I never have. As far as I’m concerned, he and I are through.

I toss my keys across the kitchen island and crack open a new bottle of whisky. Henry enters as I slam down a glass and fill it half-way.

“Sir,” he hovers, indecisively. “I take it your father found you?”

“Oh yes.” I tip the entire contents of the glass down my neck. “He found me alright.”

“I didn’t tell him where you were… and I did try to call you. But your cell was off.”

“You’ve known Winston for many years now. Why has no one shot him yet?” I almost yell. “You know, to put everyone out of their misery.”

“He hasn’t always been so superior,” he replies. “Once he was laidback; quite congenial before…”

“He struck the big time,” I interrupt, pointing my glass in mid-air.

“Well, money does have the tendency to poison things.”

“Yeah.” I slam down my glass. “And it sure has rotted away at Winston’s core.” I stride toward my room.

“Sir, you have a meeting at two with your father’s advertising company.”

“Well, the asshole can deal with it himself.” I open my bedroom door. “I’m going for a run.”

“Sir,” he frowns at me. “Are you sure you’re okay for that?”

“What are you talking about?” I blow out. “Of course I’m okay for it.”

“Sir, you’re sweating,” he dips his head.

I wipe my fingers across my forehead to feel the lukewarm beads on my clammy skin. I shrug it off. I’m pissed-off and don’t need his concern right now.

“It’s summer, Henry.” I enter my room and slam the door, before he starts to sing my father’s praises again, or tells me I need a doctor.

                                                  ***

I jog by the fountain in the park, dodging baby buggies and kids playing in the warm sun. I have steam to let off, so pick up my pace while unzipping my short sleeve gray hoody. Every degrading word he said to Jen orbits within my skull. I’m not surprised the only female company he’s had since my mother, are the female escorts Riley fixes him up with. And the jerk has the nerve to speak to Jen that way. No wonder my mother left him. I shouldn’t be accepting of the way she has behaved over the years. Leaving me. Showing absolutely no maternal instinct toward me as a child, or throughout my illness. I mean, I barely know the woman. But it doesn’t surprise me that she can’t be around that pretentious ass.

I reach the shade of the trees as my feet pound down on the concrete at speed. I glance down at my heart rate and blood pressure watch. Heart rate: 201 beats. Blood pressure: 81 over 48. Throughout my previous hospital visits and treatments, I’ve become quite knowledgeable on vital stats and how to interpret them. I know that this blood pressure reading is way too low. So I stop in the middle of the path to check again. I hover my finger over reset, but for some reason I can’t press because of a sudden weakness down my right arm. In a daze I zigzag to a nearby bench to sit down for a moment, arching over to breathe deeply.

I open my water bottle when a buzzing begins to resonate in my ears. I shake my head and take a quick drink.

“Excuse me.” Out of breath, I squint up to see a woman in a floral dress, grinning. “It’s Grayson Crane isn’t it?” she asks, excitedly.

I hum and exhale. I need to get home and shower, not deal with silly little fame fanatics.

“Can I get my photo with you?” she chirps.

She doesn’t wait for my answer, just sits her ass down anyway. And now, I see another guy in a blue baseball cap, pointing his camera at me, filming.

“Look, another time.”

I stand up but my legs weaken. They feel stick thin, frail, and unable to hold my weight. I begin to jog with a stagger as the trees in bloom blur around me. I can’t catch my breath and suddenly find myself on the ground.

“Mr. Crane… Mr. Crane,” a voice yells weakly within the whistling I hear. “Someone, call nine-one-one!”

Fuck. I can’t allow this to happen, not in public dammit
.

I use the palms of my hands against the rough tarmac and manage to sit upright. I’m so hot, like there’s a steaming sauna inside my core. I glare down at my hazy hand to see bulbs of sweat forming on my near transparent skin.
Screw this
.
I need to get my ass up, now.

“Sir, please don’t move,” a man holds down my shoulders. “I’m a doctor.”

I can feel them all around me, people in my airspace. But all I now see is a black and white static.

“Sir, there is an ambulance on its way. I want you lay back and steady your breathing.” My shoulders are guided down until my head hits something soft.

“I… I…”

“Sir, save you energy and try to stay focused,” he says. “Don’t close your eyes, just listen to my voice.”

I’m going. I can’t hold on any longer. The white noise has taking over. My head is heavy and I’m in a constant spiral. I’m…I’m sinking into the ground.

“Sir… sir, stay with me!”

     I can’t believe that she has left this out for me to see. I feel bad enough today. Like I’m some kind of bad infection that irritates everyone around me. Even though Grayson told me to forget about his dad, it’s impossible not to agree with him. I did work in a seedy strip club, and at first Grayson equaled money. So I do feel guilt. And now I’m looking at Flick’s grades for last semester, I’m appalled by my constant mistrust in her. She is a straight A student, and I’m shocked.

“So” Flick appears over my shoulder with a childlike smile.

I drop down into the chair at the kitchen table, and expel every bit of air from my lungs.

“Well, don’t go overboard with your praise will you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just had a really shitty morning.”

“You and Grayson had a lovers tiff.” She opens the fridge and takes out a carton of orange. “What was it, another woman, or did you get mud in his flashy car?” she jokes.

I want to tell her about my ordeal with Winston Crane. I want to tell her about Grayson’s struggle. I feel like I’ve got this massive load inside my heart, and I can’t tell a soul about it. Not yet anyhow.

“How do you fancy going to catch a movie?” I ask to change the subject.

“Sure… what?”

“I don’t know… something funny and stupid.”

“It’s been that bad that you’re willing to sacrifice your love of the arty farty?”

“I’ll go get dressed.” I stand up. “And Flick, I’m proud of you.” I head toward the door.

“Yeah, and you should be.”

I fasten the button on my skinny black jeans, and pull my white vest over my waist. Fingering my hair into a messy bun, I slip on my gray flats. I’m not going to call Grayson tonight. I think he’ll be busy keeping his crotchety Dad happy. No, a movie, popcorn, and Flick’s company is good enough for me.

“Jen,” Flick screams.

“Give me a minute.”

“Jen!” she screams again, and for a moment I stop breathing.

I’ve heard that dreadful tone before, when Dad was slipping away from us, and I’ve not heard it again, until now. With a bleak feeling inside my chest, I dash downstairs to find Flick stood in front of the TV. I frown as she stays still with her back to me. Then I hear his name through the speaker, Grayson. I hurry around the couch to see the six o’clock news, and a video of him being taken into the back of an ambulance in the park. He’s unconscious, and the paramedics are hustling around him, frantic.

“Oh god!” I race to the door and yank my jacket off the coat hook.

I can’t breathe. There is a weight on my body and it’s crushing me. I keel over and gasp, as tears begin to stream down my face.

“Jen.”

“Oh god,” I cry. “I have to get to him.”

“What’s wrong with him, Jen?”

I don’t have to tell her. The anchorman on the TV is doing that right now for me.

‘Grayson Crane, the Son of billionaire oil tycoon, Winston Crane, who has been battling for some time with an aggressive blood cancer, in the form of acute myeloid leukemia. Has been rushed to Rose Springs hospital this afternoon for emergency treatment.’

“Jeez Jen,” she shrieks. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” I can’t say a word to explain, my sobs are overpowering. “We’ll take Dad’s car,” she whips up her jacket from the couch.

I growl in fury and pace away from her. Dad’s car is a complete write-off. It doesn’t even start up.

In a frenzy Flick opens the front door to reveal Henry standing outside, holding up his fist, ready to knock. He exhales a damning sigh as I weep.

“Jen, come on,” he gestures.

“I’m not leaving her,” Flick yells.

I have no energy left in me to argue with her. Henry looks at me for approval, but I just charge through the door with Flick in tow.

                                               ***

Before Henry has even parked up his car outside Rose Springs, I have the door open. I’m not waiting for no one. I sprint through the bright revolving glass doors in a blind panic, because I have no idea where the hell I’m supposed to go.

Henry catches up with me and takes the lead, pushing the button to the elevator on my left. The doors slide apart, and I become frustrated with an old lady tottering out, slowly. I grunt and shimmy by her walking frame.

Henry presses number eight on the stainless steel pad. I read a sign inside indicating the whereabouts of each department. Emergency oncology is on the top floor. I blow my hair from my wet face as Flick grips onto my arm. I have to shake her off. I don’t want to be touched, worried over, or consoled. I just need to see Grayson.

The doors part and I swiftly squeeze out onto a dimly lit clinical corridor. A nurse approaches me with angry lines around her eyes.

“Quiet please,” she hisses.

“Grayson Crane,” I demand.

“The far room,” she points.

My legs rotate fast as I run down the glossy floor. I skid to a stop when Winston Crane emerges with his head held down.
Oh god
. His furious eyes narrow at the sight of me and I freeze up.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I brought her,” Henry announces.

“Well, you had no damn right… take her back,” he orders.

“You’re a dick aren’t you,” Flick says exactly what we all think.

“If you don’t get the hell off me!” Grayson’s voice hollers through the powder blue door.

I close my eyes, feeling an unsure relief because he’s still here. I go to pass by Winston, but he holds out his hands to stop me.

“Let her through,” Henry barks.

“She is not family, and she certainly will never be welcome,” his whisky breath hovers over me.

“Grayson has never had a real family… sir!” Henry steps in, with his face reddening. “And if anyone shouldn’t be here, it is you. Jen go on,” he nods.

I barge by Winston and stumble nervously through the door. I linger in worry as two nurses try to attach something to Grayson’s arm. He yells and fidgets like a child throwing a temper tantrum. His eyes finally find me and he mutes, yanking his arm free. He stares with a slow desolate blink, clearly embarrassed by me witnessing his meltdown.

“Sir, it is very important you let us do this,” a short dark haired nurse appeals, while his eyes remain static on me. “Dr. Jenkins is on his way, and insists you need this.”

My throat narrows as the realization of how dire this is hits me hard. The image of him with an oxygen tube up his nose, wearing a white hospital gown, and his skin as pale as snow, is heartbreaking.

“Leave us,” Grayson snaps.

“Sir,” the nurse warns.

“I said leave!”

I inhale and make my way to his bed. My fingers reach out and curl around his moist cool hand as I sit. I swallow and peer up at the annoyed nurse stood by my side.

“Just give us a few minutes,” I ask politely.

She huffs then marches to the door, gesturing the other nurse to follow.

I gulp, noticing the machinery around the bed flashing and beeping. I glance to my side to see his life-line journeying across a screen, and the thought of it suddenly becoming flat terrifies me. A blood pressure cuff is attached around his bicep, swelling and deflating loudly, so his reading flashes in my face. In the crease of his elbow is a white blood stained band aid. And across the bed stands a drip, pumping the contents of two different bags into his veins through an intravenous: one blood, and the other glucose.

“You saw me on the news didn’t you,” he gripes, dropping back onto his pillow. “Can’t even be ill in private. The damn Crane name will bury me.”

I stay quiet in fear that if I do speak, I’ll blubber, and right now that is the last thing he needs to be worried over. He props himself up on his elbows and gazes at me with tapered eyes.

“I’m fine Jen… just a small set back.”
That’s Grayson, more interested in my feelings than his own
. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve seen Jenkins.” He squeezes my fingers in reassurance. “I told you I’m going to fight.”

“Then you need to let the professionals do their job,” I sigh.

Riled, he plunges back down onto his pillows again as his pupils roll back in his head.

“There are things I am unwilling to do,” he grumbles. “And sticking a tube up my manhood is one of them. I’m still capable of going to the bathroom on my own.” He pouts with wide eyes.

I shake my head and grin when the machine on the drip stand begins to beep. I freak-out, fearing it’s some kind of warning bell to indicate a problem. Grayson releases my hand and arches over calmly. He presses a button on the green pad so the noise stops. I grab his forearm and pull. He shouldn’t be messing with the stuff that’s supposed to be helping him.

“Grayson!”

“Stop fretting.” He lies down. “It’s just an empty bag.”

“Yes but surely…”

“Jen, do you have any idea how many times I’ve been hooked up like Frankenstein to these things?” A stream of air jets from his nostrils. “More than I care to count. And I’m not going to wait until the nurses have finished their coffee to switch the stupid thing off.”

I lean back and try to relax more. “What happened in the park?” I ask. “Have they told you what made you collapse?”

“No… probably stress. Nothing to worry about.” He fidgets, irritated by the wires. “And this damn thing,” he yanks out his oxygen tube.

“You really are the worst kind of patient,” I snap. “Stop messing.”

“Well, I’m going to do things my way this time.”

There’s a knock on the door as it opens up. I turn to see a young doctor with jet black hair and olive skin. He’s holding a beige folder, and his fingers seem to find the need to tap over and over on the card. He loiters in thought.

“Jenkins,” Grayson says in a high tone. “You took your time,” he whines, shuffling upright. “Let’s get this done, then I can get out of here.”

I’m compelled to hold Grayson’s hand again. I’ve seen it in the past; the same expression displayed on the face of the bearer of bad news. I know it well, and it immediately instigates a dark dread.

“Would you like me to invite your father in, Mr. Crane?” he enquires in a serious tone.

“Hell no.”

Grayson swoops his legs off the bed and the ties of his gown fall open. He tugs it back over his bare shoulder while muttering in anger.

“And Jenkins, while I was out for the count, was it really necessary to remove my underwear,” he barks. “I mean come on.”

I remove my hand from his and rub my eyes. He’s being impossible, and now he’s trying to stand up. I exhale and pull on his arm, as he begins to pluck off the electrodes that are stuck on his chest. The machine beeps loudly and flashes red. Jenkins hurries over and switches it off.

“Mr. Crane, will you sit down,” Jenkins shouts.

“Jenkins… I have agreed to start a second round of chemo, but I am not staying on this shit death ward.”

Jenkins nods then opens the folder. “I’m afraid it may be too late for that, Grayson. With the stem cell transplant you had not having the desired effect, and the fluctuations in your bloods,” he hesitates. “I’m unsure it will be of any use to you now.” He looks at the papers inside the folder.

Grayson drops down onto the bed. A great cloak of desolation has zapped all hope from the room, and from me. I breathe rapidly as my heart flutters, creating an emptiness inside my chest. I take Grayson’s hand, watching through tears as the color drains from his face. I need it to stop. I don’t want to hear any more bad news.

Grayson closes his eyes and hangs his head low. I quickly stand and sit on the bed beside him, realizing he needs some support.

“I’m sorry, Grayson.” Jenkins inhales deeply. “Your results show abnormal cells in your liver and kidneys, and your MRI also shows legions on both…. your spleen is also enlarged.”

“Don’t sugar-coat it will you,” Grayson mumbles.

Now my tears rush out in full. Though, I remain silent because I don’t want him to see my distress.

“Okay, how long?” he asks.

I look away to the window with my eyes closed. I don’t want to know timelines. I can’t even comprehend that the man I’m holding onto right now will die.

“Six weeks… tops. But we can still try the treatment, it may prolong your time.”
Jenkins throws me a life-line of hope
. “But you know the chemo has bad side-effects for you.”
Life-line, gone.

“Percentage for an extra month?” Grayson asks.

“Less than five,” Jenkins admits. “And you know what you’ll have to go through to get that.”

I’ve never seen him shed a tear, and now I can see one travelling down his cheek. I rest my head against his bicep. His hand glides around my back and up to my neck to hold me closer.

“I’m so sorry, Grayson,” Jenkins says. “I will leave you alone for a while.”

Jenkins closes the door and I can feel the shaking fear in Grayson’s body. It’s awful, gut-wrenching, and hopeless. I’ve fallen in love with him, and now I have come to terms with the darkness I’ve been trying to forget. The wall of denial was the one thing we both shared, and now it’s come tumbling down around us.