Your Perfect Year(50)
About the fact that he wanted to leave her because he believed it wasn’t fair to expect her to stay under these circumstances—that he didn’t want to subject her to the same fate his mother had suffered.
And Hannah even admitted to her friend the fears she had been fighting with herself, the way she’d been overcome by panic as she was forced to face her own mortality. How ashamed she was of that. Ashamed, ashamed—ashamed to the bottom of her heart.
“But that’s completely normal,” Lisa soothed. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Of course I don’t. Every one of us has thoughts like that. When we see a serious accident on the freeway or read something horrific in the newspaper—a natural disaster or a terrorist attack—we immediately get to thinking, ‘What if that had been me?’ Or, even worse: ‘Thank God it wasn’t me!’”
Hannah sighed in relief. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a monster. I’m already feeling a little bit better.”
“And so you should.” Lisa hugged her. “It’s bad enough without you beating yourself up—that’s the last thing you need.”
“Says the woman who apologizes for every stupid little thing and constantly has a guilty conscience.”
“True.” Lisa laughed. “But as you’ve said yourself: it’s usually only about stupid little things.”
Hannah sighed. “And there I was thinking Simon was inviting me to a lovely romantic dinner in order to propose to me. To ask me if I’d stay with him until the end of my life.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “I had no idea it was about the end of his life. And certainly not that the end would be so soon.”
“Stop! It’s not a question of who’s going to reach the end of their life when.”
“Try telling Simon that! He’s probably out there looking for his final resting place and designing his gravestone.”
“Give me the phone. I’ll call him.”
“No way!”
“But you said I should tell him.”
“Yes . . . I mean no.” Hannah was still having difficulty concentrating. “Simon’s completely lost it. If we put any pressure on him, it could make things worse. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to lay into him right now. Besides, I’m not sure he’d be happy that I’ve told you all this.”
“Not sure he’d be happy?” Lisa said incredulously.
“It’s kind of private,” Hannah said. “He might be ashamed—”
“Ashamed about what?” her friend interrupted. “Your boyfriend’s told you he’s got cancer, not that he robbed an old lady!”
“Oh, Lisa, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do.” She nodded decisively. “You were right to call me. What did Simon expect? That he’d hit you with news like that and you’d just shrug and go back to your everyday life as though nothing had happened? That you can cope with it all on your own, that you’ll set up a profile on an internet dating site tomorrow while he goes off looking for a place to die like a frail, elderly elephant?”
“I never said that was what he expects.”
“But you’re wondering in all seriousness if he’d mind you telling me about it. Honestly, it’s the sort of thing I’d wonder about—but not you!”
Hannah smiled. “That’s true, at least.”
“Like I said!”
“I still don’t have the slightest idea what to do. What I can do.”
“It’s a difficult question,” Lisa said. “You’re probably right that too much pressure would be counterproductive.”
Hannah, who’d felt helpless and sad until now, exclaimed angrily, “I just don’t get how someone can be such a blockhead, refusing more tests like that! Simon’s just come up with his own diagnosis and then takes it as a given. If I were in his shoes, I’d already have contacted the ten best oncologists in the world—and he does nothing, just gives in, rolls over, and accepts his fate?”
“Well, I can understand he may need some time to let it all sink in.”
“What is there to sink in? If it’s really as bad as he thinks, then he hasn’t got a day to lose!”
“I have to contradict you there,” Lisa said. “If he’s truly afraid it’s as bad as that, I can see why he wouldn’t want to go running to the next expert.”
“Really?” Hannah raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “Help me understand.”
“For one thing, Simon’s already had bad experiences with cancer through his parents, and I can imagine that there are some things you’d really rather not know in gory detail.”
“Even if they’re as important as in Simon’s case?”
“Maybe he’d prefer to leave room for a small amount of uncertainty.”
“Uncertainty?”
“It’s possible!” Lisa said. “If he refuses a biopsy, he’s not only rejecting the possibility of the doctors telling him it’s not so bad after all and they can help him—he’s also avoiding the risk of someone telling him, ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid there’s really nothing more we can do for you. You’d best go home, you’ve had all the treatment you can.’ Just think, he’s avoiding the risk of seeing his death sentence written out irrevocably in black and white.”