Chapter 17 #3
‘But you went back for a second baby.’
Clem felt her heart pounding and a tightness in her chest as she tried to explain.
‘Indi wasn’t planned. I’d never have got pregnant again intentionally, not after that nightmare.
I ran the gauntlet twice, but I’m never going back.
Not at the risk of an encore performance, and especially not after hearing the news about that poor Glenelg mum and her baby. I’m sorry, Spencer—not even for you.’
Spencer watched Clem cross to the small CD player in the corner and press pause on the cheesy Christmas music, her stiff gait matching her tense expression.
She was every bit as brave and resilient as she was beautiful, he realised.
It would only take two steps to be beside her, one moment to reach out and knead the tight muscles above her shoulder blades.
But instead, he stood frozen, considering the right words to say, because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing in his rush to fill the space.
He’d heard enough platitudes and glib one-liners after Belle died.
His shoulders felt every bit as tight as hers looked.
‘I’m sorry you had to go through that,’ he said eventually. ‘I can’t imagine what it was like. I’ve never heard of it before.’
Clem gave a sad sigh. ‘They hardly even mention it at antenatal classes. A one in a thousand chance doesn’t seem so bad until it happens to you.
Post-natal depression and anxiety are terrible, horrible illnesses that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but post-natal psychosis is like the worst of those conditions, amplified by a factor of ten until you lose touch with reality.
New mums and their families should at least be warned what to expect, so they can look out for the signs. ’
She pulled off the reindeer antlers and tossed them onto the bench. ‘I didn’t want to get into all that, but I’m sick of hiding stuff.’
He looked up, recognising her ambivalence.
‘I probably wouldn’t have said anything to you if I hadn’t watched you and Emily on TV last night.
But you need to know the truth, Spencer.
You want kids of your own, and I can’t give you that.
You saw me at the hospital that day. A stressful time at work and several shitty nights of no sleep are normally manageable, but add a bunch of crying babies and boom!
Meltdown central. Being triggered like that was the reminder I didn’t want, but perhaps the one I needed. ’
He picked at the paint on his jeans, remembering the first day Clem had walked into the props room dressed in her painting overalls, so cute and cheerful. She’d been such a change from the dramas of the TV show and the heartache of the last few years, and now she was slipping through his fingers.
‘I know what it’s like to go through tough shit, Clem, trust me.’
‘Yep, choosing between ten knock-outs in a reality TV series and then graduating to B-grade celebrity status is a tough gig. Almost as much fun as running a cafe into the ground, I suspect.’
Her cutting tone hurt more than he cared to admit. ‘At least I was trying to do something proactive, drag myself out of a hole.’
She shook her head. ‘You could have tried dating locally first, instead of jumping in the deep end. You barely gave me the time of day at any of Mia and Jeff’s barbecues. I could’ve sworn you had something against me until the catering gig.’
His crossed the props room silently and closed the door. He was shocked by the anger Clem was directing towards him for the first time since he’d met her.
‘You reminded me of Belle,’ he said quietly, pulling up the stool and sinking into it. ‘I couldn’t even look at you without thinking of her.’
Clem was momentarily stunned, her mouth opening and closing a few times.
She sank down onto the other stool, looking down at her shoes.
‘That must have been hard for you, but it makes me feel a little better about the way you used to avoid me. But you never talk about her, you clam up whenever anyone mentions her name. That worries me.’
‘I’m not good at talking about her,’ he admitted. ‘And I don’t have intimate knowledge of the inner workings of a psych ward, but I can tell you a palliative care ward is no field day either.’
The scents he’d been working to forget filled his senses then, blocking out the paint and turps and perfume.
‘You don’t have any idea what it was like,’ Spencer said, trying to make Clem understand. ‘Being by her side, watching her get sicker and sicker.
‘The doctors thought she had twelve months at best. I helped Belle do the research and paperwork, went with her to all the medical appointments and signed the documents, promising to follow the strict rules and regulations set out by the medicos. I made the doctors a cup of tea when they delivered the locked box of medication to our home, knowing I was fast-tracking her end. I held her hand as she took that lethal drink, aware it would be the final time I’d ever meet her gaze, touch her warm skin. ’
His nose tingled and his vision swam as a tightness pulsed from one ear to the other. He sniffed, blinking away hot, unshed tears.
‘What do you mean?’ Clem’s voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Belle chose voluntary euthanasia instead of letting the cancer take her. I hated the whole thing. But it was what she wanted, it was a dignified death for her, and one of the very last things I could do for the woman I loved.’
He didn’t notice the water glass slip from Clem’s hand until it shattered on the floor.
Spencer crouched to collect the pieces, anything to distract him from losing control.
He hadn’t cried in years, and he was damned if he was going to now.
He cleared his throat roughly, the glass blurring in front of him.
A keening sound filled the room, and he looked up to see Clem backing away, the horror in her expression almost unbearable.
‘You helped her kill herself? How could you?’
‘It was what she wanted, Clem, and I have to live with that every single day, wondering. What if a cure came onto the market in the extra time she chose not to have? If I’d refused to help, would she still be here?
I did it because I loved her. And I still love her, I’ll love her for the rest of my life. ’
He swiped at his eyes, but Clem’s expression was just as pained when he looked up again.
‘I thought I was the one with the messed-up back story, feeling wretched that I couldn’t give you the babies you want,’ Clem whispered. ‘But now I find out you’re doctor death’s little helper? I can’t stand here and listen to this. There’s nothing okay about suicide in any capacity. Nothing!’
‘Voluntary-assisted dying is legal in South Australia, the whole process was carefully monitored by doctors and specialists, I didn’t—’
Anger, horror and hurt stormed across her fine features and she backed out of the room. ‘I feel sick to my stomach.’
She reached for the door, and through his stinging eyes he watched the only other woman he’d loved run away from him.
Spencer’s heart leaped in his chest when Clem turned back towards him. But his hope was cut short when he saw the fury flashing in her expression.
‘This isn’t going to work, Spencer. Even if children were off the table, knowing you helped Belle end her own life is unforgivable. How can I consider a life with you now, when I can’t even look at you?’