Chapter 24
First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.
EPICTETUS
There’s another way of looking at this. Isn’t there always another way?
That once upon a time, Gareth and I worked OK together.
We bought a beautiful home, had our wonderful twins.
Over the years, we chiselled and shaped each other into the people we are now.
In a nutshell, Gareth and I were meant to be. Just not forever.
But that’s probably true of many of us. In my biggest revelation yet, I realise that not all relationships we attach such permanence to are meant to last.
Others, however…
‘Morning.’ A large bouquet of flowers advances across the room towards me. As it’s thrust aside, Adam’s face appears. He glances around. ‘I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here.’
He’s obviously expecting to be banished again. I smile faintly. ‘It’s OK. I had surgery.’
‘I know. Alex told me. I thought he’d be here by now.’ He pauses. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘OK.’ I gaze past him towards the door as Alex appears. As he comes closer, I can see worry etched into his face. ‘Hey.’ I reach out my arms as best I can.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Leaning down, he hugs me and I breathe in the familiar scent of him. He stays there for a moment – boys are never too big for a hug. Then gently he disentangles himself. ‘Are you OK? The hospital said you had a bleed on your brain.’
‘They haven’t actually updated me yet. But the nurse said I should soon be feeling better.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Alex looks relieved. Then he looks troubled again. ‘I’m supposed to have an assessment at uni next week.’
‘Then go home,’ I say quietly. ‘Honestly. You’ve been so great coming here.’ I pause, speaking seeming to take a lot of effort. ‘But there’s no need to stay now.’
‘You’re sure?’ Alex glances at Adam. ‘I can miss the assessment. I’m sure they’ll understand.’
‘I’m going to be around for a while. I’ll keep an eye on your mum,’ Adam says. ‘I’ll keep you posted – I promise.’
‘Really?’ Alex looks grateful. ‘I’m going to stick around for a few more days. But term ends in a month. I can come back and stay for Christmas – if you’re still here?’
‘Christmas?’ I look at him, astonished. ‘I’ve only been here a few days. It can’t be Christmas yet.’
‘Mum, you’ve been here nearly three weeks in all.’ Alex looks worried again. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’
I shake my head. ‘But you were here. Yesterday – just before they took me in for surgery.’
Adam says gently, ‘Tilly, that was six days ago.’
I’m staggered, truth be told. But what’s a few days between friends? I can’t get over how lucky I’ve been.
* * *
With the bleed fixed, I very quickly start to feel better. And though I’m told my brain will take time to heal, very soon, I’m ready to be discharged.
‘You have somewhere to stay?’ the dark-eyed nurse, Athina – as I now know her name is – says.
‘Of course. I have a room in a guesthouse.’ I pause. ‘At least, I think I do. It’s where I was staying before. I’m sure they’ll have a room. I mean it is winter.’
But Athina shakes her head. ‘Tilly, you must not be alone. What about your friend?’
‘You mean Adam?’ I blink at her. ‘What about him?’
She rolls her eyes at me. ‘He has a place. And I think he would be very happy to look after you. He’s been here every day for you. You should go there.’
‘But I don’t need looking after.’ I look at her, puzzled. ‘Do I?’
‘I think…’ Athina comes over and sits on the edge of my bed. ‘None of us like being looked after. We don’t want other people to be… put out, I think you say? But answer me this. If a friend needed help, you would be there for them. It’s what we do. Am I correct?’
‘Every time,’ I say without hesitation. Even if they’re not a friend and a total stranger – like Michail. Isn’t helping him the whole reason I ended up here?
‘So it is the other way around.’ She pats my hand. ‘Adam wants to help you. Maybe you should let him. Tilly, I think I said before, Adam is a good man.’
I’m stunned into silence. But maybe she has a point. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Adam helped me. It’s just that I’m not used to being helped.
Athina gets up. ‘He is here. Your clothes are in the cupboard.’ She gestures towards the bedside table. ‘I will get your medication.’
As she walks away, my heart warms as I watch Adam come towards me. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ I say immediately. ‘I mean, it’s very nice of you. But it’s a lot to ask.’
‘No one asked. I offered,’ he says.
‘Thank you, but…’ I break off. ‘Oh shit. I’ve just thought I have my suitcase and all my stuff at…’ I struggle to remember the name of Nicos’s brother.
‘At Andreas’s place? Don’t worry. We can pick it up on the way.’
I shake my head, miserably. ‘I can’t believe how much trouble I’ve caused so many people.’
Adam frowns. ‘Tilly, you have not caused any trouble for anyone. They want to help you. People love you. They care. It’s what happens.’ He pauses. ‘You should probably get dressed.’ Glancing around, he pulls the curtain around my cubicle.
Left alone, I find the clothes I was wearing when I came in, clean and folded in the cupboard beside my bed.
I slip out of my hospital gown. My jeans are baggy when I pull them on, my sweatshirt deliciously familiar.
‘OK. I’m decent,’ I call out, putting on some socks and sliding my feet into my trainers.
Pulling the curtains back, Adam looks at me. ‘Shall we go?’
Just then, Athina reappears with a bag containing my medication. She holds it out to me. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, a lump suddenly in my throat. ‘Thank you for looking after me. And for everything.’ Holding my arms out, I hug her.
Taking Adam’s arm, we make our way outside.
It feels surreal, as if I’ve been removed from the world – which in a sense, I have, for almost three weeks.
But it’s left my senses more acute. The air is clean and crystal clear, a weak sun just above the trees.
There are glimpses of sea between the white-painted buildings; the sound of voices reaching me, chattering in Greek.
Taking it all in, I’m mesmerised. And I want to stay that way, I’m realising. Mesmerised by the magic of being alive.
Adam’s car is a small and battered Fiat.
‘I’ve borrowed it. My car is off the road.’ He opens the passenger door. ‘I can’t find anyone to fix it.’
‘I like this one. It’s cute,’ I say.
‘I’m glad. Personally, I find it noisy,’ he says, getting in and starting the engine.
And I see what he means. I wind the window down and the noise gets louder, but it doesn’t matter. I’m feeling the cool air on my skin as if I’ve never felt it before; the softness of the warm December breeze.
On the way back, when we stop at Andreas’s place to pick up my stuff, it feels like weeks ago that I was last here.
Then we carry on to Adam’s place. It’s as he said it was, a few metres from the harbour.
Once parked, he helps me out, taking my arm again.
Oh, I like the feel of his arm through mine. I like it far too much.
He unlocks a door and shows me into a cool hallway with a tiled floor and a staircase. ‘Ah. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this.’ Putting down my bag, he picks me up.
‘You can’t carry me,’ I say.
‘I think you’ll find I already am.’ Before I can say anything else, he carries me up the stairs. Then gently putting me down, he unlocks the door into his apartment and taking my arm, leads me inside. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll get your bag.’
Now, I’m kind of oblivious as he says that. You see, when he said apartment, I was expecting a holiday home on one floor with a balcony that’s just about big enough for a table. Not anything remotely like this.
The living space is huge and airy, simply furnished with a pair of huge pale sofas arranged to face the fireplace, the light pouring in through shuttered windows that give a view over rooftops of the sea. Tentatively making my way over, I push one of them open and just stand there.
It’s like I’m in a dream. Maybe I am. Maybe I did die and this is what heaven looks like. My reverie is interrupted by the sound of the door closing. I turn to see Adam standing there.
‘Your place is so lovely,’ I say wistfully. ‘If it were mine, I’d never want to move away.’
‘Thank you. I really want you to treat it like your home.’ He comes over and stands next to me. ‘It’s been empty far too much.’ He pauses. ‘Shouldn’t you be sitting down?’
‘I’m enjoying the view,’ I say. ‘So much. It’s weird. Everything feels different since I fell.’
‘It isn’t surprising, is it?’ His eyes gaze into mine. ‘After what you’ve been through…’ He breaks off.
‘I nearly didn’t make it, did I?’ I say in a small voice, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
‘You came close,’ he says. ‘But you’re still here.’ He takes one of my hands and leads me over to one of the big, squishy sofas. ‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make some coffee. And lunch – if you’re hungry?’
‘Thanks,’ I say. And I probably should eat something. But I’m not sure how to explain that it isn’t food I’m hungry for. It’s life.
* * *
This may seem a rather unnecessarily long-drawn-out end to a story that should probably be winding up right now, but it isn’t over yet.
First, I want to share a little of what unfolds next, because we all need reminding of the magic in this life.
It proves that after the darkest times, the sun still shines.
That it never really went away; I just lost sight of it, for a while.
Out of the blue, I get a message from Elena. Then she comes out for a couple of days, which is the perfect time for us to have a catch-up.
‘It’s been quite literally like a crash course,’ I tell her. ‘It feels like my brain has been downloading all this stuff.’ I frown. It’s exactly how it feels. ‘Whatever. I don’t see anything the same way any more.’
‘It isn’t surprising,’ Elena says. ‘So much has happened.’ She pauses. ‘You look different.’