Lucy

This woman is my best friend. No, this womanwasmy best friend. I started destroying that friendship and I have only myself to blame.

"You've lost so much weight," She says.

"Didn't even have to go to the gym to do it."

She smiles at the stupid joke. "How can you make jokes at a time like this?"

"That's all I have left," I tell her. "A sense of humour."

"Not even dignity?" She asks. It's supposed to be a joke.

I shrug.

Her smile disappears. I can tell she's feeling the strain maybe as much as me. She doesn't know what to say or do. This is unfamiliar and the discomfort is hard to see. I don't know any more whether I want her gone or to stay.

"Guidance," She says quietly. "The truth is, I have no idea how to handle this either."

"That makes the two of us then."

"But I want to tell you what happened."

"What happened? When?"

"Last three months or so. When you started getting busy. Busy," She adds with a sarcastic tone.

"Busy dying?"

She frowns at me. "Don't say it like that. I still feel a bit put off with you for not telling me."

"Sorry."

"Dana noticed first, you know? I think she's known for years."

I feel awkward hearing this. It must show on my face because she shakes her head reassuringly.

"It's okay," She says. It feels like she keeps saying that. But it's not okay. Nothing is okay. "She was fine with it."

"Yeah, you said that earlier too, I think."

"She hates this too; seeing you like this."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Lucy is quiet for a few moments. Then she shrugs. "Because I feel like I need to."

I'm hit by a stream of memories again. This time she's sitting in the beanbag I used to have in my bedroom near the window. I'm at my desk and I've got music playing. I'm also very stoned and so is Lucy. It's the music that's the important part because all I can do is watch her. She's got her eyes closed and there's this small smile in the corner of her mouth and she's just swaying side to side, a real sway with rolling shoulders dipping rhythmically and her head turning side to side. There's something erotic about it.

In the memory she opens her eyes briefly and looks at me. She doesn't stop swaying to the music. I'm sitting dead still and all I can do is stare as she links her eye-line to mine before she closes her eyes again, smiling all the while. And because I'm so stoned and the music is there filling the air, it's like a trigger for a firestorm of emotion and thought inside my mind. In my memory, there are hallucinations and they're covered with vivid feeling and thought and they're so strong, I don't know where the hallucination ends and where the memory begins. In my memory of this hour, Lucy is swaying, but she's also looking at me and she's standing up and she's walking over to me and she isn't quite solid. She wavers and vibrates. The lines that give her definition against everything else, are moving in and out of frenzied vibrations like she's phasing in and out of my reality. That's the Lucy that I'm imagining and hallucinating. The real Lucy is still sitting and swaying with her eyes closed and the smile on her lips.

In my memory, my hallucination of Lucy is taking my hand and bringing it up to her face so that I can stroke her cheek and her jawline and let my fingertips trip a trail down her neck. And she's tilting her head back with her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open. The pulse is racing in her neck and her skin is warm and growing red. In my memory, my hallucination of Lucy is leaning forward to touch her forehead to mine and move her lips to touch mine. All of this is so slow and because its so slow, it's like there's enough time to flood with tons of emotions. Emotions with real weight that press down on me and her and light our lips on fire. Emotions with fields of energy of their own and my emotional field is extending beyond my physical body and touching her emotional field. In my memory, my hallucination of Lucy is giving me this sad smile after kissing me. A smile that says it isn't real and it will never be real.

In my memory, my hallucination of Lucy is suddenly no longer there because the song's ending and Lucy's swaying is slowly coming to an end. In that memory, I close my eyes so I can see nothing but darkness and it feels like I'm falling through space, down as far as I'll go and more.

I open my eyes. Lucy is looking at me with a worried expression on her face.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You fell asleep again. Or passed out. I don't know, but I called the nurse. She said you'd just fallen asleep. It just didn't feel like that to me."

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes or so."

"Oh."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about memories."

"What about them?" Lucy asks, her voice now a bit calmer.

"Some of them are painful," I tell her. "It's funny how some of the painful ones hurt because of things we never expected."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that sometimes the pain comes from the way we think about a memory rather than what's in it." I don't even know if I'm explaining myself very well.

But Lucy ignores it and she asks again, for the second time today, "How long have you got?" This time her voice is stronger and she's got a slight frown. She's scared. And I know it's because of how I drifted away and fell asleep.

This time I'm straight with her. "Three or four weeks at most."

Her face takes on this expression I've rarely seen. She looks away from me, but only to look past me. She tightens her jaw and takes a really deep breath. I want to comfort her so badly but I don't want to touch her. Touching her will just make it all seem so much worse. Touching her will mean I have something to miss even more. Her eyes are wet with tears and this time they flow freely down her cheek and she doesn't even wipe them. She's still looking past me and I can only imagine that everything she's seeing is blurred.

"Lucy?" I say, but I don't know what to say after that. I just like saying her name. The name itself was nothing to me until I met her. Now it's a name that has all manner of associations. I look at her face and now I can see she's angry at me.

She looks at me and wipes her tears, but more come out. She wipes those and starts to compose herself. I want to hold her but I have no idea how to say that or show it and it seems wholly inappropriate to even think it.

"Three or four weeks," She repeats.

"Yeah."

"You fuck. Were you ever going to tell me?"

I think about lying but there's nothing left and it makes lying seem pointless. "No. I wasn't."

"I had to find this out from your mother, you know?"

"I know."

"Why the fuck weren't you going to tell me?"

"Because I couldn't handle it, Lucy."

"Handle what?"

"The idea that your last few memories of me were going to be as I am now. Just this body wasting away by himself in this room."

Lucy's eyes soften.

"Lucy, I love you so much. And I feel like all I've done is effectively lie to you for the last few years. I've been a friend, fine, but knowing I felt so much more than that and hiding it from you? After a while it just... It's too much, you know? When I found out I was dying, I just thought, that maybe, maybe I could just cut everyone off. Especially you. That I'd just put myself here and die alone because that seemed so much easier than having people watch me die slowly, remembering every fucking little thing. Remembering that I couldn't even lift my own arms for long. That I can't even stay awake for long. And the memories! God, Lucy, the memories. So many of them. I didn't even realise someone could do that; someone could hold so many memories of one person. So many of them that just appear in the mind and move on and keep flowing and I just don't know how to stop it. So much that they make me feel..."

It's an effort to speak and I have no idea what I was trying to say. I just need her to understand that this is me and I can't help how I feel. And I still don't know if I want her gone or if I want her here. Both. I want both. But you can't have both; you can only have both when it's a fantasy.

She moves forward and sits on the bed, just on the edge, next to me so that the side of her thigh is touching mine. She's looking down at me and her tears are still fresh on her cheek.

"I wish..." She says. She goes quiet and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt until her tears are gone.

I have this memory then, of her wiping her eyes in the same way. In the memory she's sitting on a bench in a park and I'm next to her. We're looking down the hill at the children in the nearby play area. We're both silent and she's more intent on them than I am and when I finally ask her if she's okay, she nods and smiles. When I ask her if she's sure, she quietly says that she can't have children. In the memory I'm silent because I have no idea what to say to that and she says nothing else but that doesn't matter so much because when she starts to cry, I move to her and put my arms around her. I try not to think about the weight of her head on my shoulder and the smell of her hair and the pressure of her arms around my body. When she finally lets go, she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She tells me she's barren. And she leaves it at that. I don't say anything.

I remember another time suddenly where Dana is present and she's sitting between me and Lucy on a sofa at a party. Dana is smiling at me and asking if I'm okay because I've been so quiet for the last hour and I tell her I'm just tired. In the memory, Dana leans back. Lucy is looking at Dana and she's smiling and she moves back as well so she can put her head on Dana's shoulder and Dana puts her arm around Lucy.

In the memory they are in love, as they are now, as they have been since before I knew either of them. And just for one brief moment, I want to feel that love.

Dana knew first, Lucy told me. Dana knew how I felt about Lucy. I don't know how long she's known. I wonder, for a moment, if she knew at that party; if she sat between us because she knew. But those kind of thoughts are fruitless. Dana has never acted untoward; she's always been warm with me.

I realise, as much as I am sorry for not telling Lucy I'm ill, it doesn't mean I want her there.

"I wish..." Lucy says again. I'm away from those memories and I'm looking at her. She's looking at me as she speaks. "I wish I could be the person you want me to be. I wish I could be the person who loves you in the same way you love me. I wish I could be the person who shows you that you don't have to be alone when you..." And she trails off because she still can't bring herself to say it.

"You've already shown me so much, Lucy. You have no idea the difference you've made to my life."

"You've made a huge difference to mine too," Lucy says.

She doesn't really understand, I think. Until Lucy, I had never been in love.

She's almost about to say something else but the door opens and the nurse comes in. Lucy turns to look at her and the nurse says that visiting hours are over. Lucy has around five minutes to leave, if she can. Lucy nods and thanks her and when the nurse leaves, Lucy's looking at me again.

"You better go," I say.

"I'll come and see you tomorrow."

"No."

"What?"

"Please, Lucy. Just don't."

"But--"

"Just leave. I don't want to see you again."

As much it hurts to say those words, the effect on her is more painful. Her expression shows no traces of anger, just anguish. She shakes her head like this isn't happening. She stammers once as she stands up and turns away toward the door. She stops and turns back to me.

"You're just saying this because you're hurting. You don't mean it," She says.

"The least you could do, Lucy, is respect my wishes. Right?" Respecting someone's wishes is a big thing for Lucy.

It's the longest few seconds of my life before she responds; it's strange how time fucks with you. She simply gives up. She doesn't even speak. She nods and then turns around and walks out of the room.

For the first time in years, I feel like crying but there aren't any tears left.

In the darkness of the night I wake a few times and I'm full of regret. But what's done is done; I wonder if that thought means I've let everything go. Deep down I know this is another lie. You don't let go of things like that; not that easily.

I close my eyes. With my eyes closed I can see the full burning glow that is Lucy and that's when I know I've done something very wrong. And I fall asleep wondering if I can fix this...

The next morning my mother is there. She does her usual thing with straightening up the room a little and sits down by my bed and sighs.

"So what happened yesterday?" She asks.

"Why did you tell her?"

"Because she asked. I assumed she knew already. But when she said she hadn't seen you for so long, well, I had to tell her, didn't I?"

"I didn't want her to know."

"Why? Because it means you feel alive for a little while before you finally go?"

I don't know what to say to that. I wonder if my mother is right. Is that one of the reasons?

"I think about her all the time," I say.

She sighs again and nods. "Yeah, I know. That's natural. But, I'll tell you something else; if you ignore it, if you just decide you're going to pretend she doesn't exist, then you're leaving life in a horrible way. You're leaving it in denial, in regret, in anger at yourself. That's how I feel about that."

"Thanks for that, Mum."

Then her expression is sad and she takes my hand. She says nothing for a few moments and shakes her head. "Sorry. I didn't... God, I don't even know what to say. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just... I don't know. She's your best friend. I thought at least she'd give you some kind of comfort that none of us could. I don't know."

"I don't know either."

She squeezes my hand and moves forward to hug me. She leaves a couple of hours later after we watch a film. The nurse comes in and takes my blood pressure and checks my pulse and oxygen levels. Another nurse comes in and helps me with going to the bathroom. When I'm out, before he leaves, he turns and tells me he forgot to say someone is here to see me.

I'm not expecting anyone. My visitor of the day has already been and gone. I tell him it's fine to send whoever it is into the room. I wonder if it's Lucy. But it isn't. Dana walks into my room, smiling. She sits on the chair next to the bed and says hello. I'm too surprised to say anything back at first.

"It's customary to greet someone when they greet you," Dana tells me.

"Hi."

"How you doing?"

"The same."

"Yeah. I hope you don't mind me being here."

"I... What are you doing here?"

"I came to see my friend. That and since you've forbidden Lucy to come and see you, she's been incredibly upset and she's being all honourable and stupidly forthright about respecting your wishes and so it falls to me to report to her everything that's going on with you."

I always thought Dana was the more emotional one, but the way she's sitting there makes me realise maybe I had her slightly wrong. Her expression is completely calm. The smile hasn't gone from her face. She hasn't broken eye contact. Her tone of voice has been measured and level the entire time, except... except I'm sure there was just the touch of sarcasm. Or maybe it was steel.

"Here's the thing," She says. "I love you nearly as much as she does and I'm not her. So you can tell me I'm not allowed to come and see you, but you can be certain I'm not going to listen. For your sake and mine. And Lucy's."

Definitely steel. I don't want to argue with her and truth be told, Dana's presence is comforting. I'm surprised at this. I'm surprised I don't feel awkward.

"How long have you known, Dana?" I have to ask.

Her eyes are suddenly softer and her tone of voice follows suit. "Oh, I don't know. Three years? Something like that. It seemed obvious after a while."

"You never said anything."

"How could I? You could've denied it. It could've changed things. She's happy around you, you're happy around her and I'm happy around you. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to do, keeping quiet, but the alternative seemed much worse. And I suppose, I always thought you'd move on eventually."

"So did I." I hesitate. "And I've always been happy around you too."

Dana nods. "I have to admit, at first I was a little... I don't know. I was worried, I guess. About how you felt, but--"

"I never said or did anything inappropriate."

Dana smiles. "I guess Lucy already said."

"Thanks."

"For?"

"For not being angry at me."

"How can I be angry at you for the way you feel? It's not like we can control it, can we?"

"No."

"Though you're trying to do that, aren't you? By keeping Lucy away?"

"... I suppose."

"I think if I was in your position, I might do the same."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Except, eventually, I'd realise it was a stupid thing to do."

I can't help but smile at this. Dana smiles back. I remember a time when me and Dana spent the day together. In the memory we're walking down a high street, window shopping, looking for a good place to buy Lucy's birthday present. It's a strange day. It's a strange feeling knowing she wants my help in choosing. But this is around the time when I'm starting to get to know her, so I haven't learnt yet how similar Dana and I when it comes to some things.

"I used to worry that you were hurting from seeing me and her together," She says quietly.

I shake my head at this. It never hurt, exactly. It just made me see what I didn't have and what I'd never have. That's just how it is. I shake my head at this and I try and sit up, using my arms to push forward. Just like Lucy did, Dana stands up and grips my arm and helps me.

"Thanks."

"She's really hurting," Dana says. "You mean a lot to her."

I don't want to talk about this, but I get the feeling Dana won't leave it alone. "Dana, what am I supposed to do?"

"Tell her it's okay for her to see you."

I say nothing. Maybe it is stubbornness. Maybe I'm more stupid than I've ever been in my life but the thought of spending time with Lucy just feels too far away to be possible now. I didn't think it was possible to be this confused about anything, ever. I stay silent in the hope that Dana will just leave it alone. She's sitting again and I'm giving my body time to get used to sitting up. I flex my arms and legs just a little bit, enough to feel like I'm getting a stretch. But I'm so weak, that after a couple of minutes, I fall back against the bed again. My body hurts a bit.

Dana hesitates for a moment after seeing me sink back. "Your mum didn't really tell us what was going on with you."

"It's everywhere now."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Started out in my neck, in my brain. Now it's spreading around my body."

Dana hesitates again. Then she says, "It seems wholly inappropriate to just say I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Will you at least think about what I said?"

I nod. I can tell she wants me to say something more committed but I can't say anything. She leaves it alone. It's another hour or so before she leaves and I'm drifting in and out of sleep.

... ... ... ... ...

It doesn't take another three or four weeks. Somewhere in the space of a week or so, I start thinking I am losing my mind. Dana visits every day. By the third day she stops asking about bringing Lucy in. I can't face Lucy. I hate myself for it, but I can't do it. By the fifth day my headaches are shorter but more frequent. My body aches. The world seems darker. I keep my eyes closed sometimes just because it's easier to live in my own head.

Behind my closed eyes, there are entire storms; flashes of memories, deluges of thoughts, hurricanes of emotions just howling at me. It feels real. It feels solid. The storms flicker and rage and sometimes they quieten so much, I begin to wonder if I'm near the end. I begin to wonder if I've had my last thought or felt my last feeling.