Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
NOAH
“Noah Harrington.”
My name being called has my breath hitching. From the moment I sat in the waiting room, all I wanted to do was get up and walk away. But I’m doing this for Caleb and Jessica.
Instead, I suck it up, take a deep breath and stand. I walk towards the GP and follow her inside. She closes the door behind us before ushering for me to sit.
The room is clinical, and yet not as cool as I would expect.
There’s a bed over by the wall with a roll of blue tissue paper pulled down the end.
Some anatomy posters line the wall and come to a stop by a large set of scales.
Large cabinets line the remaining wall up to the desk.
Even with the windows open, it’s almost stifling, and I find myself pulling at the collar of my shirt.
“Sorry, the air con is on the blink again,” she says before turning to her computer and tapping her keyboard. The key card she has hanging from her lanyard clanks against the edge of the desk, adding to my frayed nerves before she returns her focus to me.
“Right, what can I help you with today?” she asks.
I clear my throat, my tongue thick, and force myself to reply.
“I found some swelling and a lump,” I reply and point towards my chest and armpit.
“Okay, tell me a little more about your concerns?”
I glance to the side. “At first, I thought maybe I’d strained myself while at the gym, but when it didn’t go away and my dog started to paw at me, acting out of character, I just knew I needed to get it checked. I know that might sound weird.”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. And how long ago was it when you first noticed?” she asks.
I chew the inside of my cheek and think back, annoyed with myself because it was well before I noticed Aspen’s behaviour. “Maybe two or three months ago. It was hardly noticeable, but now I feel like it’s bigger, or maybe that’s just because I’m aware of it. I’m not sure.”
But every time Caleb or Jessica go to touch me near my chest, I find myself physically pulling away as subtly as possible. I’d like to believe they’ve not noticed, but I can’t be sure now, especially with my recent snappy outbursts of late.
“I see, and is it painful? Have you noticed anything else that’s concerning you?”
I shake my head. “No, not that I can tell,” I reply honestly.
Apart from my anxiety, I feel the same.
“What about your family medical history?”
I swallow. “My mum died of breast cancer,” I say, the words feeling like razor blades, my chest tightening with a deep ache. Her loss is something I’ll never get over. Even now, it hurts to think about her, let alone talk about her, and it makes me feel as though I’m letting her down somehow.
Her eyes shine with sympathy, and she nods as she adds to her notes.
“Are you okay for me to examine you?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She tilts her head in the direction of the bed. “If you could remove your top and sit on the bed, please.”
I do as she asks, feeling self-conscious about my body, something I’ve never really felt before.
I try to tune it out as she examines me and only respond when she asks me questions.
Thankfully, it’s over quickly, and she tells me I can put my top back on.
I join her back at the desk and take a seat.
“Okay, I think we should refer you for a biopsy. That way, we can be sure and rule everything out.”
My head becomes fuzzy as she talks. I mostly tune out the rest of what she says, only catching on when I hear, “you’ll get an appointment within the next couple of days. They’ll take a biopsy, and you’ll get the results within a few weeks.”
I want to ask her in her professional opinion if she thinks it’s cancer, but I also know that’s not something she can answer, hence the biopsy.
I leave the GP’s surgery, my mind spinning as I replay some of her questions and then the words referral and biopsy.
As soon as she started asking about my family medical history, I already knew that’s what would likely happen, but still, when she said as much, everything in the room began to swim around me.
It took conscious effort to stop from having a panic attack.
It’s something I’ve not had since I was a child: flashbacks of my dad’s treatment towards my mum.
I find myself drawn to the nearest bench, where I sit and lower my head into my hands.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I try to clear the dots appearing in my vision.
It takes me a few minutes before I come back to myself, but when I do, my hands tremble as I sit back and blow out a breath.
I wonder if now is the time to mention it to Jessica and Caleb, but why worry them unnecessarily? The biopsy could come back all clear, and then I would have put them through this for nothing.
My mum’s diagnosis came too late. Even with treatment, her chances were low, and I always wondered if the reason she got a late diagnosis was because she was too afraid to go to the doctor still covered in bruises.
It would have raised questions I knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.
I remember how she’d tell me stories about when she first met my dad and how he was the perfect gentleman, everything she could have wanted in a partner.
I don’t know if it was her way of telling me he wasn’t always that way, volatile and aggressive.
He was fine until he wasn’t, and it would always be after a drinking session.
If I have good memories with him, I don’t recall them. The ones I have are associated with my mum’s cries of pain and his violent anger.
My mum, on the other hand, I cherish every memory I still have of her.
I smile, knowing how much she would have loved Caleb and Jessica.
I have no doubt in my mind there would have been no judgement from her.
As long as I was happy, that’s all that would have mattered.
She was a natural-born empath, too good, too pure, too kind.
I never once heard her say a bad word about anyone.
I know she was only human, and I have no doubt she was far from perfect because no one is, but I’ll hold onto the fact that she was one of the kindest, most generous people I ever had the privilege to know and, most of all, I’m grateful that I had the honour of being her son.
I wonder if the cancer hadn’t killed her, if he would have. The best thing that ever happened to him was meeting his end as he crashed into a central reservation on the motorway. Thankfully, he was the only one who died, and it was one of the best days of my life.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it, instead needing to walk, and before I know it, I find myself at the summit of Primrose Hill.
The smell of fresh-cut grass tickles my nose, and the warmth from the sun heats my skin.
I sit on a grassy verge patch and look over the skyline of London.
It’s been too long since I last came here.
I glance over to a couple having a picnic with their toddler and can’t help but smile. They look so happy.
I imagine a similar scenario with Jessica, Caleb, and me with our child, while Aspen is scrounging for a treat or two.
This is a thought that surprises me because, up until now, I never really considered being a dad. Deep down, I guess I was worried I’d be like my father. But if anything, I know that’s fear talking.
Because I would be nothing like that monster, and the thought of having a baby with Caleb and Jessica, building our family, is what dreams are made of. Maybe one day, if the powers that be allow it, it may just come to fruition.
I know I can’t ignore the world forever and pull out my phone. I have missed calls from work, Caleb and Jessica, and some messages in our group chat.
I already know they’ll be able to find my location, but it’s only been a couple of hours, and there’s nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes, I can be stuck in meetings for most of the day.
When I open my messages, I see some back and forth from Jessica and Caleb in our group chat about a dinner date tonight.
Me: Count me in.
Caleb: Was there really any other choice?
Me: With you two, no, never. I’ll see you both later x
Jessica: I can’t wait. Love you two x
Pushing to my feet, I slip my phone back into my pocket and dust off the loose grass from my trousers. My lips lift into a genuine smile because regardless of the uncertainty that awaits me when all is said and done, I know what a lucky bastard I am to be loved by two.