Man Of Few Words

Chapter 31

So, after I threw up (yes, really) I took out my phone and starting flipping through my contacts, trying to remember whether I should be looking for 'mum', 'dad', 'parents', 'home' or even 'Markus' or 'Elaine'. Before I even found the number it occurred to me that the time displayed on my phone, 4:19, was a.m. and not p.m. and that it might not be a good time to call.

If you're going to tell your parents that you have terminal cancer, then it's best to let them get a decent night's sleep first.

Of course, they might already have known. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if Harriet had told them already. But if she had, then it would have been surprising that they hadn't contacted me. Do I mean 'disappointing'?

Anyway, I decided to wait four hours before calling. I really did spend all that time waiting too. Sleep was not an option. I just turned off the lights and stared into the darkness for four solid hours. And it didn't drag either, I can tell you. The saying "Time flies when you're having fun" needs broadening to the more accurate "Time flies when you don't want it to".

When I picked up the phone again, I had to put it straight down and rush to the bathroom for a bit of dry heaving. Then I returned to the living room, found the number (under 'Pearford', eventually) and pressed 'Call'.

It rang two and a half times.

"Hello?"

It was my father. My mouth was bone dry, I cleared my throat.

"Sorry? Hello?" said my dad.

"Dad," I said flatly, like I was acknowledging a basic fact, not addressing him directly.

There was silence.

"Hello?" he said again.

"Dad. It's David," I said. This time with (a tiny little bit of) feeling.

"David?"

Another long pause then, "Hello?"

It was like talking to Lionel Richie.

"Dad. Have you spoken to Harriet?"

"W... yes. I mean, n... what about? Why?"

She hadn't told them.

It might seem like a strange admission, but I hadn't actually accounted for this scenario at all.

"I, er..."

I left another long pause.

"Hello?"

"Can I speak to mum?"

"Um... okay."

There was a loud beep as he clumsily and pointlessly wrapped his hand around the bottom half of the handset, squishing a button or two as he did so, and called out, "Elaine!"

"Just a minute," he mumbled to me, then there was clunk as he laid the phone down on its side and wandered off to find my mum.

"Take it with you, you tit. That's why it's cordless," I said into the empty space of my parents' hall.

Then I heard my mum's voice saying, "...ve brought it upstairs" as her footsteps trotted down the stairs and she reached the phone.

"Hello?"

I hadn't requested my mother for any specific reason other than that I'd quickly got totally stuck in the conversation with my dad.

"Hi Mum. Is Dad still there?"

"Yes. But... what, do you want to speak to him again already? Love you too, darling..."

"No... I... It's just..."

I really didn't want to leave a long pause. I couldn't take another "Hello?"

"Cancer." I just said it.

"What?" she asked. Like she hadn't heard me. Not like she had and was shocked.

"Cancer. I have cancer. I'm going to die. I'm going to die soon. I'm..."

I wanted to say 'sorry', but I just couldn't. I froze. I was breathing hard, and I was sniffing.

"Hello?" It was my dad again. "David... listen, what is this? I... you d..."

"I'm dying of cancer, Dad!" I'm screaming, squawking, screeching. "I don't... I can't... I'm so... Dad, I..."

Then my voice croaked to a halt and I burst into tears. Not in that sobbing, car-that-won't-start way. More in that awful groaning, wailing, flaming-aircraft-in-a-nosedive way. I put my face in my hands, kneading my fingers hard into my forehead and, without really trying to, wedged the phone between my palm and my dampening cheek. Between convulsions, I could hear faint sounds coming from the earpiece.

I couldn't really make them out.

I didn't really knowwhat, or who, they were.