Jim tuned the radio to the shipping forecast, taking him back to his navy days. Back when a soothing voice could help navigate stormy seas. No such guidance now. No telling whether Sue’s cancer was progressing at a rate of forty-five knots or greater. But it was comforting to know that Biscay was south-west six to gale eight as he made her tea.
He poured the water into the teapot. Their best china, because what had been the point of saving it? What occasion were they ever waiting for? He remembered buying this set on their honeymoon at the flea market in Paris. Sue’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the gold-rimmed birds perched among vibrant blossoms. He’d have paid any price for it, to make her happy. Still, it had pleased him to strike a bargain and demonstrate his bartering skills, not to mention his French. She’d stood on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the lips in front of everyone in the market, and he’d felt his cheeks flush with pride. He was the luckiest man alive.
His mind soon drifted to the day that everything had changed. How the word had hung in the air like a noxious gas, choking him.
“Cancer.”
Its consonants had clattered and hissed, drowning out the rest of the doctor’s words. It had cast a veil of freezing fog around him and hoisted him onto the ceiling. Just the word and him, floating. Adrift and alone, like he soon would be.
That was only four weeks ago, and already he could feel death’s icy breath beside her on the pillow, hear its rattle in her chest and see its grey cast creeping over her skin.
He inhaled deeply and gathered up the tray, the sugar bowl and the milk jug clinking together, betraying his shaky composure.
“Here you go, love,” he said in his chirpiest voice as he entered the room, setting the tray down on the bedside table. The late morning sunlight streamed through the open curtains, illuminating Sue’s face. She glowed, ethereal. Even with hollowed-out cheekbones and translucent skin, she was beautiful.
She stared past him, out of the window. “I need you to do something for me, Jim.”
“Anything.”
“I want to go now. Before I become a burden. I don’t want you to see me fade to dust.”
“Sue, no…”
“Remember we talked about this, love? What we’d do, if the time came for either of us? My time has come.”
Jim’s eyes welled with tears.
“Pass my tea, will you? I’ve got time for a last drink,” said Sue, the glint in her eye still sparkling.
Night fell as they lay side by side in bed, the radio on and an empty packet of pills beside them. Jim was still holding her hand in the morning, wondering if he’d ever be able to let go.
“Humber. Wind variable, mainly northeast later, three to four. Sea state smooth. Weather mainly fair. Visibility good, occasionally poor…”
