The Mother-in-Law(72)

“But,” Ollie is stuck on this point, and for once, I agree with him, “biologically, it would be Lucy’s?”

“Yes,” Nettie admits, looking at me. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, Lucy, but . . . can you tell me what you think about this idea?”

I push back in my chair, blinking slowly. “I mean . . . it’s a little out of the blue, Nettie. Obviously I’d need to think about it.”

“Of course,” Nettie says, nodding. “Of course you do. But . . . maybe you could share your initial reaction?”

“She said she needs to think about it!” Patrick says, uncharacteristically gruff. “Give the woman a break!”

In contrast to Nettie’s businesslike body language, Patrick is almost sullen looking. He sits back in his chair. His arms are crossed and his chin is lowered, almost to his chest.

“Nettie, my initial reaction is shock,” I tell her. “There’s a lot to think about. Ollie and I would have to talk about it—”

“So it is a possibility? It is something you would consider?” Nettie squeezes her eyes closed and pumps her fists as if making a wish.

“Honestly?” I say. “I don’t think it is.”

Nettie’s eyes open, but her gaze remains lowered.

“I’m sorry. I’ve thought about this before, in a philosophical way and . . . I just couldn’t do it. After all, it would be my child—”

“Half your child,” Nettie corrects weakly.

“There’s no such thing as half-children. It would be mine as much as Archie and Harriet and Edie are mine. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t conceive a child, carry it to term and then give it away. I just couldn’t. Even for you.”

“You won’t even think about it? For a few days? Sleep on it?”

“I could,” I say. “But my answer would be the same.”

Nettie rises to her feet, pushing her chair back hard enough to hit the wall behind it. “Nettie,” I say. “Nettie, I’m sorry.”

Patrick puts a hand to his face, smoothing it across his forehead. I can’t tell if it’s a gesture of sadness or relief. I can tell what the expression on Nettie’s face is though, without a shadow of a doubt.

Hatred.





48: DIANA


THE PAST . . .

Ending your own life, peacefully and painlessly.

I type the words into the Google browser and hit enter. I can’t remember the last time I used this damn computer, but it must have been a while ago, because the mouse has run out of batteries. Now I have to use the damn pad on the computer and it’s highly irritating. I finally manage to get the cursor to hover over the first link, Lifeline Australia, a suicide prevention organization. It’s not what I’m looking for, but I suppose it’s quite prudent. There are probably all sorts of teens who want to end their lives over a relationship breakdown or a scandal over exposed nude photographs or something. Those kids don’t know that their little crisis will pass and they will be far better off for the learning experience. One day, they will speak to their own children about how once, they thought their life wasn’t worth living, but lo and behold, look at them now, a parent, a success, happy! Those people needed to find Lifeline and call the number. Not people like me. I am an old lady. I’ve lived a good life, been married, had my children.

I need help to die, not help to live.

I fiddle with the mouse pad again, and refine my search. Voluntary euthanasia, Australia. Google tells me some things that I know, such as the fact that euthanasia is illegal in Australia even though it happens routinely in hospitals for the terminally ill in their final days. Google also tells me things I don’t know, such as the fact that it’s incredibly difficult to purchase the drugs or equipment to euthanize yourself in a humane fashion. I don’t qualify to go to Dignitas in Switzerland without being terminally ill, and the medical evidence they require is exhaustive and impossible to fake. Which leaves me, as far as I can see, with the internet.

I’ve been taking the antidepressant medication that Dr. Paisley prescribed for nearly six months now, and I think it’s been effective. My sleep has been better. I’m getting more enjoyment out of things. I’m managing to get dressed, feed myself and do a bit of work. But Tom’s still dead. There isn’t a pill that will change that.

I find a link to an organization called Voluntary Euthanasia International (VEI). The print that pops up under the link says:

VEI PHILOSOPHY: That all adults of sound mind should have the right to end their life in a manner that is reliable, peaceful and at a time of their choosing. VEI believes that control over one’s life & death to be a fundamental civil right from which no one of sound mind should be excluded. VEI MISSION: To inform members & support them in their end of life decision-making.



I click on the link. And keep reading.





49: LUCY


THE PRESENT . . .

I drive myself to the police station. Ollie offered to come with me, but I told him not to be silly, someone had to stay with the kids. I didn’t tell him the real reason I didn’t want him to come. That I couldn’t bear to see his face when he found out what I’d done.

I go to the desk to announce my arrival but before I’ve even had a chance to say my name, Jones appears.