The January Wish (24 page)

‘Mark suggested that?’

‘Uh-huh. But I became so sick and tired of having tests. I dreaded the thought of seeing the look on the doctor’s face again, knowing without him telling me that the cancer had recurred. This year was supposed to be about feeling free, finding out where I came from, and experiencing some of the things I missed out on as a teenager. I didn’t want blood tests and hospitals to be part of it.’

‘I can understand.’

‘So when I began feeling more tired than usual, I refused to believe anything could be wrong. Rather than taking it easy and doing less, I started doing more—more exercise, more social stuff, keeping busy with work. Then I would have something to blame the fatigue on,’ Grace said. ‘Until it got too bad and my heart started doing funny things. That was enough to wake me up and realise I couldn’t avoid getting checked out.’

‘Luckily anaemia is something easily fixed,’ Sylvia stated.

‘Yeah, I have to take tablets and eat more steak apparently. I was supposed to do that back when I was sick too, but I couldn’t stomach much meat,’ Grace said. ‘And just now, when they told me I was anaemic, I still felt worried because I thought they were just starting with the “good” news, and getting ready to tell me the “bad” news. I had anaemia along with the cancer too, you see, so I thought that had returned along with
it.
’

‘But there was no bad news.’ Sylvia smiled.

‘No, and I asked about three times, “So that’s it? Nothing else?” and the nurse put her hand on mine and said, “You’re going to be fine, Grace”.’

They sat silently for a moment, Sylvia taking in everything she’d just learned, and working out what to do next. ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow and you can stay at my place for a few days, or as long as you need,’ Sylvia said, lifting a hand to thwart Grace’s beginning attempts to protest. ‘And how about I book you in to see my colleague, Dr Bronovski? He can monitor you from here on, and refer you to any specialists if necessary.’

Grace nodded. ‘Okay, if you think he’d be the best person to see.’

‘Yes,’ Sylvia replied, then added, ‘And maybe you should book another appointment with Mark, I’m sure he can help you take good care of your health.’ Whoa, that would have to make it into the
Guinness Book of Sylvia’s Records
for the most out of character thing she’d done all year. She’d never referred anyone to a naturopath before, not seeing the need to. But perhaps he
could
be helpful to have around. Not that she was a convert to natural medicine now or anything; Sylvia still believed her way was best, but when it came to her daughter…the more help available to her the better. She wouldn’t take any chances of losing her again.

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Grace agreed.

‘Well, I think that drip’s doing the trick, you’re looking much better now,’ Sylvia commented. She had an urge to check her chart hanging on the end of the bed but resisted. She didn’t need to know
everything,
only what mattered. Of course, there was always a risk of the cancer recurring, especially within the first five years of remission, but right now, at this moment in time, Grace was going to be alright.

* * *

Mark had suspected that Sylvia was Grace’s mother. They looked alike of course, but he’d also noticed they shared a sense of ‘I know what’s best and I’ll do it my way’, which was both frustrating and charming. Grace hadn’t seemed keen to talk about her family medical history, so he didn’t probe for the full information at her first consultation. When he’d first met Grace at his market stall and she’d called Sylvia by her first name, he’d thought perhaps she was her aunt, but when he found out Sylvia was an only child he’d thought perhaps they were cousins. When he’d seen them together around town, they looked just like mother and daughter, although he knew Sylvia would have had Grace at a young age if that was the case. And it was.

Mark sat on the cold hard chair at the hospital, bouncing his foot up and down while he waited. He went over the night’s events in his mind; seeing Grace collapsing, rushing to her side to check her pulse, hearing Sylvia’s calm words to Grace yet seeing the panic in her eyes… His instinct told him to get her to hospital without delay, and for a moment he’d imagined she was Cindy, and he’d been given a second chance to save her life. But she wasn’t Cindy, and there would be no second chances.

He also wondered if it would have been easier had Cindy been sick for a long time, so they both had time to prepare. But maybe that would have been worse, living with the fear of the inevitable and not knowing when she’d go. If only he’d had just one more day with her. One more day to talk to her, tell her how much he loved her, and say…goodbye.

‘Mark, thanks so much for waiting,’ Sylvia said as she appeared from behind the curtain and approached him.

‘No worries, how is she?’ Mark stopped bouncing his foot and stood, his head only a couple of inches higher than hers.

‘She’s okay, resting now. I’m coming back first thing in the morning to pick her up.’ Sylvia fiddled with the handbag strap on her shoulder. ‘You knew, didn’t you, about the leukaemia?’

Mark pressed his lips together and nodded. ‘Grace cancelled her follow-up appointment, and I was going to call her in another week or so to see how she was going. Should have called earlier by the looks of it,’ he said, wishing he’d been more insistent.

‘Don’t worry, she confessed she was in denial, didn’t want to admit she was feeling unwell. Grace has learned her lesson now though,’ Sylvia said. ‘And it’s only anaemia, plus low calcium and potassium, so nothing sinister.’

‘That’s good news,’ he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.

‘Did you know about me, too?’ Sylvia asked.

‘That you’re Grace’s mother? No. I wondered, considering the resemblance, but I wasn’t sure.’

‘Well, you’re one of only a few people that know, so…’

‘I’ll keep it to myself.’

‘Thanks.’

‘So, how are you?’ Mark asked, noticing the weariness in Sylvia’s eyes.

‘How am I?’

‘Tonight would have been a bit…traumatic for you.’

Sylvia’s eyebrows rose briefly, as though she wasn’t used to anyone asking how
she
was.

‘I’m okay, thanks. It was a shock to see Grace like that, but I know she’ll be alright, so it’s all good.’ Sylvia smiled.

‘You never got to eat any Death by Chocolate,’ Mark said, a smile sneaking from the corner of his mouth. ‘There’s still an hour and a half left of your birthday, how about we try and catch Café Lagoon before they close and grab something to take away?’

Sylvia’s smile grew wider. ‘As Grace told me today; “every birthday is a gift worth celebrating”, so I think it’s my duty to make the most of it.’

‘Especially at
your
age,’ Mark said, spicing his words with sarcasm.

Sylvia twisted her lips to one side and gave him an evil glare. ‘Watch what you say mister, or—‘

‘Or what?’

‘Or…I’ll thump you with my walking stick.’

Mark snorted. ‘In that case, I’d better think before I speak.’ It felt good to muck around with Sylvia, especially after the stress of tonight. ‘Anyway, in all seriousness, I think your Grace is one wise girl.’

‘She sure is,’ Sylvia replied, accepting Mark’s offer of his outstretched hand.

At ten minutes to eleven they pulled up outside Café Lagoon, and Mark jumped out, before ducking his head back in the car. ‘What can I get the birthday girl?’

‘I’ll have a hot chocolate,’ Sylvia replied.

‘And to eat?’

‘Um…surprise me.’

Mark smiled and rushed inside. A staff member was wiping down tables and the last of the customers were filtering out. He paid for his order then got back in the car, placing the cardboard tray containing the hot drinks on Sylvia’s lap, and the paper bag containing her ‘surprise’ between the two front seats.

‘Let me guess…a dandelion chai for you?’ Sylvia asked.

‘Of course.’

She tried to peer into the paper bag but he stopped her. ‘Uh-uh, wait till we get to the lookout. It’s a surprise, remember?’

A minute later they were parked at the top of Lookout Point. Sylvia got out of the car and walked towards the edge of the lookout, leaning on the railing. Mark opened the boot and withdrew a picnic rug and blanket, laying them out on a spot of grass overlooking the leathery black ocean. Only a small amount of light shone from the moon and a distant streetlamp down the hill. Sylvia walked over and sat on the rug, lifting the blanket around her shoulders and taking the hot chocolate from Mark’s hands. He went back to close the car, then returned with two blueberry friands on a plastic plate, along with two plastic forks from his picnic set.

‘Is there anything you don’t have in your car? I thought I was the only person who planned for every imaginable contingency,’ Sylvia said.

‘I like to be prepared,’ Mark replied.

‘Me too. But I bet you don’t have an inventory in your car.’

Was she serious? ‘You have an inventory in your car?’

‘You already know one of my deep, dark secrets. You might as well know another.’ She took a sip of hot chocolate and ran her tongue over her top lip.

‘So, the purpose of the inventory is to…?’

‘To make sure I keep the car fully stocked with all the essentials, and remember what needs replacing. Nothing worse than being stuck in traffic without a book to read, or getting caught in the rain without an umbrella, or—‘

‘Or having a late night impromptu birthday celebration without a plastic plate and a couple of forks,’ Mark added.

‘Exactly.’

‘Luckily, I also brought these.’ Mark took a birthday candle and a box of matches from his pocket. Striking one against the box, a burst of light from the flame illuminated Sylvia’s face, and a surprised smile emerged as he lit the candle and pressed it into the centre of Sylvia’s friand. ‘I’d sing
Happy Birthday
but I’m a terrible singer and it’d ruin the moment.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘And I would have put thirty-five candles on it, but as I said before, it’s too hard to fit that many on,’ Mark said.

‘Hey! Remember what I said about the walking stick.’

‘I do, but I don’t see any walking stick nearby, so I think I’m safe,’ he replied with a grin.

‘Actually, you’re right. There’s only room for about five candles max on this little thing.’

‘The café only gave me one candle anyway,’ Mark said.

‘Oh, so you
don’t
have everything in your car.’

Mark shook his head. ‘They gave me the matches too. I must remember to add birthday candles and matches to my inventory. But first I must remember to
make
an inventory, or find someone passionate enough about them to make one for me. Know anyone?’

Sylvia laughed and pushed her hand playfully against his arm, then looked right into his eyes. ‘Thanks for this, Mark.’

‘My pleasure. Oh, before you blow out the candle, don’t forget to make a wish!’ Mark said, just as Sylvia opened her mouth into an ‘O’ shape. She stopped and looked at him funnily. ‘What? Oh, you probably don’t believe in wishes, do you?’

She didn’t answer his question, but gave a sharp blow of air in the direction of the candle, eliminating the flame and leaving a sinuous wave of smoke in its wake. A waxy scent wafted through Mark’s nostrils, reminding him of Cindy’s thirtieth birthday. Her last birthday. He didn’t know if she’d made a wish that night, but
he
wished she’d wished to be alive to see her next birthday. If Mark could make a wish, he used to think he’d wish for her not to have died, and of course he still wished her life hadn’t been cut short. But tonight, for the first time, he realised that if he could make a wish, it would be to be able to move on and start a new life. Whether Sylvia was destined to be a part of that life he wasn’t completely sure, but all he knew was that each moment he spent with her felt one step closer to that goal. And that was both scary and liberating.

Sylvia dug the plastic fork into the friand and lifted a chunk of it to her mouth, her eyes closing momentarily. ‘Mmm…’ she said. ‘Delicious.’

‘Happy birthday, Sylvia,’ Mark said, digging into his friand. ‘And many more to come.’

Grace stepped out of the shower and dried off her skin with one of Sylvia’s fluffy white towels. It was as though she was in a hotel. How Sylvia had time to keep this place spotless she had no idea. The caravan park facilities were sufficient, but it was nice to shower in luxury for a change, not to mention sleeping in a proper bed. Sylvia had picked her up from the hospital and brought her back here yesterday, and had prepared the guest room for her arrival with books on the bedside table, fresh flowers, and even a chocolate on the pillow.

Grace rubbed some moisturiser onto her face, and moistened her lips with lip balm. On the way back from hospital, they’d called by the caravan to pick up a few items of clothing, her toiletry bag, and her laptop. Just the essentials. She’d probably only be here a few days at the most, although Sylvia insisted she not go back for at least another week.

Grace squeezed a tube of body lotion above her leg which was propped against the bathtub, but only a miniscule blob emerged. ‘Damn, its run out,’ she said to herself. Hoping it was okay to look in Sylvia’s bathroom cabinet and borrow some of hers, Grace opened the cabinet gingerly and peered at the perfectly arranged items. Cleanser, toner, moisturiser, eye cream, and some sort of serum were placed equal distance from each other on the middle shelf, all the same brand; Christian Dior. Glass jars containing cotton buds and make-up remover pads were on the bottom shelf, along with an array of expensive-looking cosmetic items stored in a purpose-made stand. The contents of this cabinet were probably worth about a thousand dollars, more even. All Grace had was a pink cosmetic bag that had come free with a magazine, which she’d filled with a collection of different branded cosmetic items she’d bought from the ‘two-dollar bin’ at Priceline.

On the top shelf, a large tube of ‘body-firming cream’ with a gold lid stood elegantly. This seemed to be the only body lotion Sylvia owned, so it would have to do, although Grace felt guilty as she lathered it on her skin. It felt amazing; like silk. She’d have to buy more lotion of her own, or ask Sylvia if she wouldn’t mind picking some up from the supermarket next time she did her groceries, which according to the schedule stuck to the fridge, would be tomorrow morning.