33 and just like that, the universe makes its opinion clear
33
and just like that, the universe makes its opinion clear
Ava
Blazing sunlight fills my room thanks to the curtains I accidentally left open last night, waking me far earlier than I’d hoped. My heart feels simultaneously lethargic and supersonic, like it’s preparing for something I’m as yet unaware of. But then, it’s probably just hangxiety. After ten silent minutes staring at the ceiling, I conclude that I am in dire need of a tea.
Max is wrapped in his duvet so tightly on the sofa bed I can’t tell which end his head’s at. When we were kids I’d always wake to see him swaddled like this, so I take a photo and send it to Mum, who replies almost immediately.
mum: Lovely, so glad he’s resting. But isn’t it too warm for a duvet? And why is he on the sofa bed? He should have a proper mattress. Xxx
I’d do anything for the boy, but I draw a line at letting him claim my mattress.
I put the kettle on and while the water boils, I think over the events of last night. With Finn.
Finn, Finn, Finn.
My head spins, and I don’t think it’s because of our neighbour’s budget alcohol.
When Finn returned from the bathroom, he sat in his spot on the sofa and I positioned myself between his knees on the floor, and nothing else happened. He may have murmured something wildly inappropriate in my ear under the guise of leaning forward to grab his drink from the coffee table, and I may have retaliated by using his legs as support when I stood up to get a drink, holding his thighs slightly higher than necessary. But for the rest of the evening, I kept my hands to myself, and so did he. When we said goodbye, we hugged for a single second, and it was almost comical how chaste it was.
What’s he doing right now? Is he waiting for a text from me the way I’m waiting for one from him? What would I even say if I sent one? Hey bud, thanks for last night, it was fun. I reckon I’ll spend the rest of my life comparing every other man’s mouth to yours though, lol. Anyway, see you on Tuesday!
In reality, last night is only the tip of the iceberg. There’s everything that’s grown between us over the past couple of months, but there’s also everything that hasn’t happened yet. Like him leaving .
Some selfish part of my brain hopes he won’t get that job in San Francisco, because what will happen if he does? What will happen if he doesn’t ? Could we find a way to make it work, somehow?
Thoughtful, considerate Finn, telling me things that make me believe I might be made of magic. Things that make me think there could be something worth wanting, some joy at the end of the tunnel to run towards. That make me think I should find out what it would look like to let the sun in.
‘Are you making drinks, or did you just rouse me from my slumber for no reason?’ a gravelly voice asks from the sofa, and I realise the kettle stopped boiling ages ago.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ I grab a second mug from the cupboard and make both of us a drink. ‘You’re usually dead to the world when you sleep.’
I bring our mugs over to the coffee table – tea for me, coffee for Max – and, for fear of unleashing Josie’s wrath, find coasters for both. Max gets my new one from pottery class.
He must be sweating, but he pulls the duvet tighter around himself as he rises to a half-seated position with a grunt. ‘I haven’t been sleeping great recently. Got some stuff on my mind.’ He catches my concern and adds, ‘I’ve been prescribed sleeping pills. But I knew I’d be drinking last night so I didn’t bring any.’
I perch on the end of the bed. ‘You should be careful with all that.’
‘I am careful,’ he says, the barest hint of annoyance in his voice. ‘Hence, me not mixing them.’
‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’
I remember how excited he was to tell me about his work opportunity last night. It lifted me too, let me know the world is still turning, still tipped in his favour the way it always should’ve been. Looking back with sober eyes, I wonder if his excitement was a little too frantic, too skittish.
Instead of answering my question, Max says, ‘Let’s have something to eat.’ Right on cue, his stomach gurgles, and he mumbles, ‘Who the fuck brought sambuca? And why?’
Josie’s on dishwasher duty, Alina sorts out the recycling, Max cleans up any spillages, and I wander around with a bin bag collecting rubbish. Between us, the flat is spotless by eleven.
Once we’ve fuelled ourselves with coffee and a fry-up, I feel considerably more human. Inexplicably, Alina has the energy to go for a run, and I simultaneously envy and fear her. By the time she returns, Josie’s ready with her bags and the pair of them head off to Josie’s parents’.
An hour later, it’s just Max and me wallowing at either end of the sofa under the duvet with a sitcom on that neither of us is paying much attention to, instead scrolling on our phones and occasionally letting out a short puff of air through our nostrils in place of an actual laugh.
I draw my phone closer to my face, even though I know Max couldn’t give less of a shit about what’s on my screen. I test the waters with something entirely innocuous.
ava: have fun with your dad tomorrow!!!!!
God, never in my life have I used five exclamation marks in one go. Max glances up and catches the vaguely disgusted grimace on my face, and a quizzical expression briefly crosses his own before he shrugs and goes back to his phone.
finn: Thanks, I’m so excited
finn: !!!!!
He’s mocking me. Dots appear and disappear on the screen as he types and deletes, and then a message comes through.
finn: At the risk of sounding like a broken record, we should talk about it
ava: I’ve never met someone so frustratingly into open lines of communication
finn: You should know by now that talking is one of my favourite activities
ava: thought you might’ve been avoiding me
ava: giving me a taste of my own medicine and ghosting me after we hooked up
finn: I wouldn’t do that
ava: I would though
finn: I am aware
finn: Which is why I waited for you to text first
finn: Didn’t wanna scare you off
finn: I do know you, believe it or not
I feel a smile replacing the grimace and try to hold it back in case Max looks up again. Because really, Finn’s right. I didn’t mean to let him get to know me, he just strong-armed his way in, the way I strong-armed him into being my fake friend that day in the coffee shop at the start of summer.
finn: Can we talk in person rather than over text?
ava: I’m with Max today and don’t know when he’s leaving we can meet tomorrow?
finn: I’ll let you know when I’m finished with my dad and you can come over if you want
He sends me his address and my thumbs hover over my screen while I debate the merits of sending a flirtatious text I might come to regret. I tap send before I lose my nerve.
ava: is this an excuse to get me alone again?
finn: Well, yes, but not like that at all, I promise
finn: There’s something else I want to talk to you about
I don’t know whether to feel offended by this. He wouldn’t want me alone again like that ?
finn: Shit that made it sound like being alone with you is something I wouldn’t want
finn: I absolutely would
finn: Like, a lot
finn: But I need to discuss something with you and it might change things
finn: Also while we’re here I’d like to confirm
finn: I don’t just like you for reasons pertaining to what happened last night
finn: I mean I assumed that was obvious
finn: I’m surprised you haven’t sent me away for being annoying yet
finn: I am infinitely glad you haven’t
finn: But I’d understand if you did
finn: Agh why can’t I speak normally
finn: I feel like I’m devolving
finn: Is this too much am I being too eager
finn: It’s too much isn’t it
finn: Nooooope
finn: Feel free to respond at any moment
finn: . . .
finn: ????????
finn: Oh my fucking god Ava
finn: Please reply and put me out of my misery
finn: Help
finn: Goodbye
I try to imagine him typing these messages out, hair getting more dishevelled with every run of his hands through it, and my heart flutters at the image. Perhaps the unflappable Finn O’Callaghan isn’t quite so unflappable after all.
I’ve never wanted anything messy, but if it looks like this, maybe I wouldn’t mind it.
ava: I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Finn
After a particularly robotic, canned laugh from the TV, Max turns to me. ‘You and Finn are a thing, right?’
I burrow under the duvet with a grunt and shove my phone between the sofa cushions for fear he can somehow read the texts from his spot. ‘Can we please not pretend we’re the kind of siblings to talk about this sort of thing?’
‘Fine, fine,’ he says through a laugh, wiggling in the duvet cocoon and touching me with a single, repugnant foot, which makes me gag.
As I squirm away, my brain drifts to the party and I dimly remember something. ‘Did you get to speak to Dylan, by the way? The tall woman who showed up halfway through?’
His forehead creases as he tries to remember. ‘I think I did. Blue jeans? Amazing a—’ He clears his throat when he remembers who he’s talking to. ‘Eyes. Amazing eyes?’
‘Subtle.’ He bites down a guilty grin and I continue, ‘But yes. She’s very pretty.’
‘Wasn’t she called Ellen? Why did I keep calling her Ellen?’
‘Because she was probably too nice to correct you. She works at the shop with me but wants to go travelling at some point. I meant to introduce you two properly but I completely forgot.’
He raises his eyebrows and says under his breath, ‘I wonder why.’
‘Sorry, what was that?’ I cup my hand to my ear.
‘I said, I totally understand why your mind would be elsewhere, because you were extremely busy having weirdly intense eye contact with Finn in front of everybody and thinking no one would notice.’
I’m now impossibly glad Max went to the corner shop towards the end of the night. ‘What happened to not talking about our love lives?’
‘Oh, so you admit it’s your love life?’
‘I’m not entertaining this.’ I take as much of the duvet as I can but he yanks it back.
‘Whatever. I liked him. So if you were a thing, it’d be nice. I feel like you’ve been happier recently.’ He echoes what Josie said to me a few weeks ago. Has Finn’s presence really impacted me that much? ‘And if he’s around, maybe it’ll be easier for you to handle my news.’
I stop tugging the duvet, my stomach dropping with my hands. ‘What news?’
I immediately want to tear off the duvet, tear off my skin, because the room is suddenly fifty degrees hotter and panic boils in my chest.
Max plays with the label on a cushion. ‘It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. Not as big of a deal as last time, anyway.’
Hope grows like weeds between the cracks of a pavement. All it takes is the tiniest amount of light, and then it sprouts, unruly. But it’s only ever one misstep away from being trampled on.
‘Max. What’s not a big deal?’
My heart pounds in my ears and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. Still, the words drag me under.
‘At my most recent scan the doctors found something concerning. They think the cancer’s come back just next to the original site. On my hip socket, this time.’
And just like that, the shutters go down, the windows are boarded up, and any hope of letting the sunlight in is snuffed out. Because this is the only thing that matters. The dread that’s lived in the pit of my stomach for years rears its head.
A million questions run through my mind like they’re on ticker tape, but I start with the most important. ‘Are you okay?’
He heaves a sigh, a smile I don’t believe pulling at his mouth. It’s only been six years since the first time, but he looks so much older now. He’s lived so much more. Lived through so much more.
‘I will be. It might be a false alarm anyway. It might be nothing.’ He doesn’t need to say but it’s probably not . I hear it anyway. ‘I always knew it was a possibility. The hip replacement should’ve been enough to stop it returning, but that was never a given. Guess it couldn’t stay away.’ He attempts the kind of joke we haven’t used in years, the ones we pushed between us in our delirious, fear-driven panic, the ones our parents could never laugh at because it hurt too much. ‘I’m irresistible, apparently. Which I completely understand.’
I nod slowly, trying not to let him see what’s going on behind my eyes. ‘When do you find out more?’
‘I had a bunch of tests last week—’
‘I could’ve come with you.’
‘You didn’t need to. Seriously,’ he nudges me under the duvet, ‘it’s not like this is new to me. I go for scans and tests all the time anyway. I should find out the results soon, and if it’s what they think it is, they’ll probably put me on a course of radiotherapy to specifically target the spot.’
‘No chemo? Or surgery?’ I ask, my fingers curling in on themselves, nails digging into my palm as the memory of what happened last time takes over my vision in high definition. My body tingles like I’m coming down with something, and my skin feels like it doesn’t quite fit anymore.
He understands why I’m asking. Of course he does. ‘It’s unlikely. So don’t panic.’
‘I’m not panicking,’ I say instantly, ironing out my features. While Max is in front of me, I can’t let him see the truth. My only job is to be here, to be calm, for him. Nothing else.
‘I had a hunch something was wrong a little while ago but didn’t want to admit it,’ he mumbles. ‘My leg’s been feeling weird. I assumed it was my hip starting to play up because I’ve been doing too much physical activity. It’s always been a bit more sensitive to pain ever since everything happened. But I knew I had a scan coming up anyway, so I waited.’
‘Max,’ I chastise softly. Why didn’t he push for an earlier appointment? How could he be so careless with his health, knowing what’s at stake?
He shrugs, and suddenly he looks five years old. ‘I know I’m an idiot. I get it. Trust me, I’ve heard it all from Mum and Dad.’ He catches my expression. ‘I told them the other day but I wanted to tell you in person. And I wanted us both to have fun last night. I wanted to be normal for a bit longer, before it fucks things up again.’
This is what he struggled with last time. Depending on people, bearing their pity, disrupting the vibrant life he loves so much. An inconvenience as much as it was a nightmare.
I squeeze him and it all comes back to me; everything I’ve spent years trying to forget. The fear that kept me awake every night. The dread any time Dad’s contact info appeared on my phone screen, knowing he was calling with more bad news. Having to consciously avoid the bandage-wrapped PICC line in Max’s arm whenever I hugged him, how he looked in the hospital bed with his life in the metallic hands of machines, the way my heart has never quite healed from that one terrible day.
I shake my head to clear the image, to banish the fog to the corners of my vision until I’m alone. If he wants to feel normal, that’s what I’ll give him. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Can you not tell anyone?’ he asks, voice quiet. ‘I mean, you can tell Josie, and Finn I guess, if you’re together, but the more people who know, the more real it is. It feels like I’m jinxing it or something. I dunno. It sounds stupid, but I just want to pretend, for now. If that’s okay.’
I know better than anyone how it feels to want to put your faith into something bigger than yourself, to ask it for help even if you’re not sure you believe it can. Jinxes and wishes and prayers never felt more real to me than the last time he was sick. ‘It doesn’t sound stupid. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.’
We continue watching our generically funny sitcom, and by the time he packs up his stuff to leave, it’s only the hug that lasts a few seconds longer than normal that alerts me to what must really be going on in his head.
‘Can you promise me something else, Col? Don’t worry until you need to worry. I know that’s easier said than done. But until then, please just,’ he squints like he’s reading the words in the air, ‘be normal.’
‘I promise,’ I say, my head beginning to throb as it unpacks the boxes I’d long since shoved to the back of my brain.
‘I’ve been dreading telling people, but not you. I can always count on you to be okay. You’re the only person in my life who doesn’t give those stupid trite platitudes that make me want to throw up. ’
‘ God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers ,’ I say, dropping my voice to make it sound more dramatic, which sends his eyes rolling. I bump against him. ‘You’re all right, as far as brothers go.’
He scrunches his nose in distaste, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder. ‘That was alarmingly close to sentimental, for you.’
‘You’re all right, as far as brothers go, but I’d drop you the second a better option came along?’
He grins and says, ‘Much better.’
We both know he’d still be my favourite, though. And I’d do anything for him; even act like I’m not terrified too.