Before You Say Goodbye

Chapter 5

Autumn didn’t need to ask how they’d gotten in. Bluebell knew Walter had a spare key because Autumn was always locking herself out. Her neighbour loved Bluebell because she flirted with him and told him he was handsome, and he’d have given her the key the second she asked for it.

They were sitting on her sofa. Bowie was holding his head in his hands and Bluebell was sitting beside him, holding a bowl of cooked plain pasta. It looked like she was trying to feed it to him. They stared up at her when she opened the door, their fretful features as foreboding as she felt. They were about to drop a bomb on her life — she could see it in their body language. She fought the urge to turn around and leave them there.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked.

“I’m going to give you some space,” Bluebell said, taking a forkful of pasta for herself and picking up a coffee she’d obviously helped herself to. She moved into the bedroom. She would still hear everything — the walls were like paper — but Autumn was more alarmed to realise that Bluebell must know she and Bowie had slept together, and yet she hadn’t mentioned it. Not even to tease Autumn. Something was seriously wrong. She found herself annoyed at them both. She’d always hated drama. It was the main reason she didn’t get properly involved with anyone. Now, thanks to the first friend she’d let into her life in years and the first man she had ever liked, it looked like she was knee-deep in it. In that moment — sick of their flightiness, their unpredictability and their self-centredness — Autumn wished she’d never met either of them. She no longer liked the way they made her feel, as though she was the most important person in the world to them one minute, then absolutely nothing to them a moment later. She tried not to glare at Bowie, but she couldn’t help it. He was staring at the floor.

She prompted him. “Bowie?”

His eyes met hers.

“Can you sit down, please?” he asked.

“Do I need to?”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “I think you do.”

Autumn threw her bag on the floor and sat down opposite him on her dressing-table stool. She didn’t want to sit beside him. She was afraid to. She could smell his alluring aroma from across the room and she didn’t trust herself not to forgive him instantly on the basis he smelled so appealing to her. He watched her, saying nothing. Autumn braced herself.

“Go on.” She urged him to speak.

“I’m really ill,” he said.

Autumn frowned. She hadn’t been expecting that. She’d been sure he’d been about to admit to having a girlfriend or offer her a feeble excuse of some sort. She felt relieved, until he continued. “Not just ill,” he said. “Really, properly ill. I have a diagnosis, I mean. I should have told you before but everything was so perfect, and then yesterday, after I left you, I got so tired I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t get Marley on his own to ask him to call you and the only other person I could get to let you know was Bluebell, but I didn’t know how she would react . . .”

Bowie was becoming hysterical. Autumn suspected he was going to cry and she wasn’t sure how she’d feel if he did. Where she was from, men didn’t show their emotions so readily. Without thinking too much about it, she crossed the room to comfort him. He opened his arms and pulled her down onto the sofa, clutching her to him.

“Mum forced me into the shower,” he said. “And it washed your number off my hand. I came over as soon as I could, but you didn’t come home and I had to find somewhere to rest, so I put the note on your stairs and went to a hotel around the corner to sleep. I came back the second I’d woken up, but walking up and down stairs is really hard for me sometimes, I’m really tired and my back hurts. After I saw you on the stairs and you left for your date, I needed to stop for a rest, so I finished the climb and sat down on your landing, but I was in so much pain. I knew I couldn’t handle walking back down on my own, I was stuck at the bottom of your fucking spiral staircase, on the landing outside your neighbour’s apartment. I couldn’t just stay here. If you’d come back with that guy, Autumn . . . I was terrified about how that would make me feel. I had to knock on your neighbour’s door so I could call someone from his phone. Marley wasn’t answering, so it had to be Bluebell because hers is the only other phone number I know off by heart. I obviously had to tell her everything when she got here, though she had pretty much guessed it all by then.”

Autumn couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. She felt upset with herself. If only she had given him a chance to explain earlier.

“I’m so sorry, Bowie,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“Please don’t apologise. How could you know? It’s my own stupid fault. I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let the other night go as far as I did without telling you what I’m going through, but it was perfect and it was so good to be around someone who doesn’t treat me like a china doll for once.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. It felt like a really harsh way to ask the question, but she couldn’t think of any other way to word it.

“I have lymphoma. Do you know what that is?”

“Cancer?” she asked.

Bowie nodded. “It’s cancer of the lymphatic system, a type of blood cancer. I was diagnosed when I was twenty-one with what’s referred to as low-grade advanced stage non-Hodgkin lymphoma. It was slow-growing but diagnosis took so long there was a lot of it, so I had chemotherapy and a treatment called rituximab. It put me into remission for a while, but it’s come back several times since then, most recently a year ago. It makes me so tired, I can’t begin to explain how fatigued I feel some days. I shouldn’t have promised you I’d come back because I didn’t know I’d be able to. Some days I’m OK, like I was the other night. That was a good day for me, my pain was manageable and my fatigue was almost non-existent. That’s why I turned up to the show to watch Marley. I haven’t been able to do anything like that for ages, this cancer has stolen so much of my life. But yesterday, once I’d left here, I just felt worse and worse. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. I barely had the energy to get myself home. I got into bed and I couldn’t get out again.”

“That sounds terrible,” she said sympathetically.

“I knew five minutes after we sat down in that café together that I wanted more from you than a one-night stand and I should have told you what you were getting yourself into. I’m really mad at myself.”

“It’s OK.” She lied. He was right, he should have told her. Probably before they’d slept together, most certainly before the morning after. But she didn’t think it was as big a deal as he was making it out to be. Now that she knew, they could handle it together. She could encourage him to sleep and excuse him if he wasn’t feeling well. She moved in to kiss him, but he shook his head, swallowed, and said,

“I’m going to die, Autumn.”

Autumn felt her body go rigid with shock. She searched his face for any hint of over-dramatisation, desperate for something, anything, but there was nothing. She no longer knew exactly what her own features were doing, but the ball in her throat told her she might cry, so she turned away from him, trying to hide her disbelief. Bowie let her absorb his words for a moment, then reached out to take each of her hands in his. She knew instinctively he’d done it because he needed her to listen to what he was saying, so she forced herself to look at him.

“My cancer has always been incurable. I’ve always known it was something I’d have to live with for the rest of my life. But it was low-grade, so slow-growing. I’d go into remission for years at a time, then it would come back, we’d monitor it and I’d manage the pain until it was time for treatment, then we’d go through the whole thing again, chemo, radiotherapy and other treatments, sometimes months at a time in hospital, the hair loss, the weight loss, the weakness, the sickness and the pain . . . pain I can’t even describe, Autumn, just hoping I’d get more cancer-free time this time, that I’d be one of the many people who live to a ripe old age fighting this off whenever it shows up. But the last time a lump appeared and I was tested, I was told it was transforming into high grade non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. That means it grows quickly. It’ll respond better to treatment, but there’s a higher chance it will come straight back. And the treatment is . . . intense. I can’t go through it again. These treatments, they’re life-altering. They have a lasting impact on your body. They cause other issues, long-term side effects I don’t want to deal with, not when I know it’s going to get me eventually. So many people fight this disease successfully, but I’ve known for a while I’m not going to be one of them.”

“Oh my God.”

“I should have told you. There is no excuse.”

She agreed with him. He absolutely should have told her. Not before the first time they had slept together, but as they’d talked over tea and cake. He should have told her then.

“Jesus Christ,” she said, putting her head in her hands.

“Bluebell is furious with me,” he said, lowering his voice. “And with you, for sleeping with me.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

They turned to look at Bluebell, standing in the bedroom doorway. Autumn wasn’t sure how long she’d been there. She stared between them, then stalked across the room until she was in front of them, swinging her coffee cup in her hand. Autumn let go of Bowie.

“So, first you fuck my brother . . .” She was counting Autumn’s transgressions on her fingers. “Then you meet me for lunch the next day and you don’t think to mention it?”

Bowie opened his mouth to speak, but Bluebell gestured at him with her mug.

“Don’t even get me started on you.” Autumn thought she heard Bowie catch a laugh, but his sister either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it, turning her attention back to Autumn, instead.

“I-I thought you’d be angry,” Autumn said.

“I am fucking angry.” Bluebell gesticulated wildly. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Come on, pal.” Bluebell eyed her sceptically. “This is me you’re talking to.” She threw herself dramatically onto the stool beside Autumn’s dressing table, slouching despondently.

“I know how much you love me,” she continued. “You want me to believe you didn’t give me a single thought in any of this?”

Autumn shook her head. “At first I did, but, then, no, I didn’t. Not really. Not until the next day. I forgot he was your brother for most of the night.”

Bluebell tried to hide her smirk, but couldn’t. “I should fucking hope so, too,” she mumbled.

Autumn was hit by a wave of relief. Once Bluebell’s humour barrier had been broken down, Autumn knew she found it very difficult to return to an angry state. She was too light-hearted.

“Seriously though,” Bluebell continued, deadpan. “I am worried, Autumn. I know what you can be like with men.”

Autumn stiffened and felt Bowie tense beside her.

“No judgement, I’m exactly the same. You’re my best friend, but that’s my brother, Autumn.” Bluebell shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“What are you like with men?” Bowie enquired. Autumn could tell from his tone that he was teasing her. She smiled sarcastically at Bluebell, then turned to Bowie. She impulsively reached for his hand again, and was relieved when he took hers gently in his. Their eyes met and they each blushed.

Bluebell sighed and stood up, turning to pick up her jacket.

“Well, this is a car crash waiting to happen. But you’re adults, so what the hell has it got to do with me? Bowie, I’m going to leave you here. Please do not disappear again. I’ll tell Mum you’re feeling much better and staying out with Marley. I’ll also tell Marley to lie to her if she asks.”

She paused, momentarily lost in thought. “He’s a lying little shitbag as well, isn’t he? Marley? He told me you shared a cab home the other night, Autumn, when he quite clearly had no idea where either of you were at the time.”

“It’s a twin thing,” Bowie said.

Bluebell leaned down to hug him. She held him close, murmuring lovingly into his ear. “Can you take it easy? Actually get some sleep tonight? And tone down the marathon shagging sessions, will you? I don’t know who you think you are.”

Bowie laughed, pushing her away. “You’re gross. Get out.”

Bluebell skipped across the floor to the door, turning back to look at them when she reached it. Her eyes flicked from one to the other. She eyed their clasped hands with fondness. Autumn felt shy in front of her friend for the first time since the day they’d met. This was a new kind of vulnerability. She wasn’t used to anyone seeing her act this intimately with someone, never mind a friend, and most certainly not Bluebell, who thought monogamy was against human nature and that it was stupid. It was just one of the many things they had agreed on until now. Bluebell would never say anything, but she would almost certainly be perturbed that Autumn was feeling a little differently since meeting her brother.

“I’m serious, guys. Please be careful. I mean, I personally don’t think there’s a much better way to go than in the middle of an orgasm, but I think Mum and Dad would quite like the six months or so they were promised.”

Autumn reeled. Six months? That was no time at all. She tried to cover up her shock, but her reaction had been noticed by Bowie and Bluebell. They stopped conversing and looked at her. She tried to straighten her face, but she couldn’t. Six months ? But he was so sweet and lovely and . . .

“I’m going to let you two talk,” Bluebell said. She looked a little teary. Bowie nodded, smiling lovingly at his sister. Bluebell blew him a kiss and then left.

* * *

Bowie threw up the second Bluebell had gone, into the coffee cup she’d left on the mantelpiece.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “That happens quite a lot.”

Autumn took it from him to wash. When she came back, he was sitting down again. She sat beside him, her hands clasped pointedly before her. She was afraid to touch him.

“Why do you vomit?” she asked.

“It’s just stress. At least, I think it is. There could be a mass in my stomach. I’ve no idea where it’s spread to. I’m just sort of . . . rolling with it.”

She nodded, fixating on the stain he’d left on her sofa when he’d spilled his tea in an expression of excitement the night before last before. She had been tossing up the pros and cons of seducing him then, and things had seemed so complicated. She’d had no idea just how complex they really were. She didn’t know what to say now. She was stunned by his revelation, and couldn’t hide it. She was sad that he was suffering, and overwhelmed by this sudden impediment.

He spoke quietly to her.

“Whatever you’re thinking is OK.”

She didn’t answer.

“Meeting you wasn’t part of my plan,” he added.

Before she could stop herself, Autumn started to cry. She couldn’t help it. She felt so despondent. She’d seen a change in herself she had liked and felt as though the option to explore it had been ripped away from her. In the very best-case scenario, this would be difficult. She wasn’t experienced at this relationship stuff even when it was easy. She figured she’d be useless at it if it was as tricky as Bowie and Bluebell were implying. On top of that, she felt so unbelievably sad for Bowie and for his family. Embarrassed, she covered her eyes with her hands.

“Oh, Autumn.” Bowie sighed. “Please don’t cry.”

He shuffled towards her and she let herself fall against his chest. She liked it there; it made her feel safe. He held her tightly, whispering nonsense into her ear until she began to calm down.

“Maybe I need to just make this decision for you?” he said. Autumn wiped her eyes and pulled away.

“What decision?”

His face fell.

“For us to end this now.”

She swallowed hard and nodded, wiping her tears and moving away from him. She felt a sudden need to protect herself. Bowie winced at the space she’d put between them.

“It’s not what I want, Autumn. I—”

“It’s because of what Bluebell said, isn’t it? About the way I am with men.”

Autumn let herself jump to the vilest conclusion: that he had found his excuse to cut her off.

Bowie stared at her and then laughed. She was taken aback. She tried to look away, but he put his finger beneath her chin, gently tilted her face to look at him, and fixed his eyes on hers, a disbelieving smile on his face. His gaze bewitched her.

“I don’t care if you’ve slept with half of New York City. Your worth is not determined by how many men you’ve slept with. Not by me. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“I only care that you’re happy and about the way you treat me. OK?”

She nodded again, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Do you want to do this?” he asked her.

She didn’t need to ask him what he meant by ‘this’. He was about to ask her if she wanted to be with him. Autumn felt shock and a curious urge to blurt yes all at once. She tried to give herself a silent talking to. She needed to think properly about this. This was a big responsibility. Starting a relationship would be complicated if Bowie being Bluebell’s brother was the only tricky part of this, but they wouldn’t only have to navigate Bluebell’s feelings, they were dealing with a serious disease and all its symptoms. She knew nothing about lymphoma except what he’d told her very briefly, but it sounded terrible. Autumn had never been in a relationship before. Could she, a woman so inexperienced when it came to taking care of anyone except herself, really be the type of woman a man as lovely as Bowie needed right now? What if she wasn’t up to it? She might hurt him. Perhaps she would disappoint Bluebell and lose her, too. And she barely knew Bowie. It didn’t feel like it, but they’d met for the first time just a few days ago. That felt crazy to acknowledge, but it was true. A week ago, she’d have warned any woman who was thinking of getting involved in a situation like this to think very carefully about it, yet here she was, ready to say yes without giving it much thought at all. There was so much at stake here. His question shouldn’t feel straightforward to answer, but it did. Autumn couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t imagine saying anything except yes. Still, she listened to Bowie elaborate. She knew he felt like he needed to do it and was grateful he wanted to make sure she knew what she was signing up for.

“You and me? Properly, I mean? I don’t have time for games. If you are interested in me, we have to do this now. My whole family is fighting over the time I have left. We can’t date or mess around. If you want me, we do this, but you’ll have to be sure. It’ll be fucking hard. I’ll get sick. You’ll see me cry. I’ll be in pain. I’ll throw up and moan and whinge. I’ll get snappy. Some days I won’t be able to do anything at all. There’ll be times I won’t even know what day it is because all I’ll do is sleep. I’ll let you down. I’ll do and say things that make you disappointed in me. Cancer is like that. It makes you crazy. I’ll lose my sex drive. I’ll lose my energy. I’ll lose my will to live. And then, some day, somehow, six months or so from now . . . I am going to die.”

* * *

They had sex once that evening, right there on the sofa. She told him she wanted to be with him and he asked again if she was sure. She assured him she was and he kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, Autumn knew her decision had been the right one.

“Are you well enough for this?” she asked him.

“Yes.” He pushed her back onto the sofa, pulling her legs around his waist.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

“You’re really not hurting me,” he whispered into her neck, grinding his erection provocatively against her.

“Will you tell me if I do?”

He pulled away to scold her.

“Autumn, stop it.”

From then on, she did. Their lovemaking had elements of their previous sleepy encounter and all of the urgency of their first time. They were lost in each other. Bowie’s body told Autumn a tale of relief and hope and coming home, and she let go in a way she never had before, forgetting about the way she looked, and if her appreciative moans were attractive and delicate enough, and pulling him greedily into her whenever he left her body, without any second thought or sense of shame.

He came so violently and collapsed so hard against her she worried for a second their sex had killed him.

“Bowie?” she whispered.

“That was amazing,” he said.

Afterwards, they lay wrapped in one another on the sofa. He tickled the skin of her arm with his fingers and played with the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Come and meet my family tomorrow?” he asked her sleepily.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, like tomorrow-tomorrow.”

She laughed. “How many tomorrows are there?”

“Not many for me. That’s the whole point.”

She leaned up on her elbow and stroked his chest. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Rule number one . . .” she murmured.

“There are rules?” He groaned softly.

“Yes . . .” She hesitated. “Relationship rules.”

The word ‘relationship’ sounded strange to Autumn coming out of her own mouth. Bowie whimpered theatrically, then smiled.

“Rule number one,” she repeated. “You are not allowed to remind me all the time that you’re dying. I won’t be able to do this if you do.”

He nodded in agreement. His eyes had closed now. He sounded drunk when he spoke.

“My turn. Rule number two. You’re not allowed to treat me as though I’m dying all the time. That includes asking me if I’m well enough to do things I like to do. Like have sex.”

He grinned lasciviously.

She smiled and draped her body over his. He wrapped himself around her. She kissed his jawline and tugged gently on his ear with her fingers, hoping it might soothe him into slumber. She knew he needed it. He moaned at her touch and spoke again, although Autumn could tell that he was somewhere between asleep and awake.

“Rule number three. Sleep is always a good thing.”

“That’s not a rule.”

“My mother would disagree with you,” he said.