Love Your Life(72)

“What can I do?”

“Sarika says she’s having one of her bad flare-ups. We try to stay over, and it’s my turn. So just drop me there. Thanks.”

For the next few minutes, we’re both silent, then Matt says, “Tell me about it. Wait, no, don’t waste your breath,” he hastily amends. “I’ll google. Whatever.”

“It’s OK,” I say wryly. “It has a million symptoms, so if you google it you’ll just get confused. It’s an autoimmune disease. It can go a lot of ways. Nell has had a bunch of different problems. Her joints…heart issues. A couple of years ago she had to have surgery on her intestine. It’s not fun.”

    “Shouldn’t she be in hospital?” Matt sounds alarmed.

“It might get to that. She hates it, though. She likes to try to stay home. When she has these episodes, we try to be there for her. You know, distract her, just be company, get her stuff when she needs it, that kind of thing.”

There’s silence, and I can sense Matt taking it all in. At last he ventures, “It sounds grueling.”

“Yes.” I turn my head gratefully, because he found the right word. “It is grueling. And she seemed to be so much better.” I can’t help my frustration bursting through. “You know? She hadn’t had a flare-up for months. We all thought— We hoped— It’s so unfair—” As I recall Nell in the park, looking so uncharacteristically optimistic, my voice suddenly breaks. “Shit.”

“Ava, you’re allowed to be upset,” says Matt gently.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not allowed to lose it. That’s Nell’s rule.”

My voice has softened. As I glance over at him, all I can feel is affection. All our jumpy, irritable problems seem to have melted away. Everything felt so hugely important while we were yelling at each other two minutes ago—but now I can’t even remember why I got so stressed out. In fact, I feel ashamed. Matt and I aren’t in pain, we’re not ill, we’re not struggling. We’re the lucky ones. We can work it out.

As I input Nell’s postcode into Matt’s satnav, he asks quietly, “How long has she been ill?”

    “Diagnosed five years ago. She was ill before then, but no one knew what it was.”

I’m silent for a moment, remembering those hateful, complicated years when Nell kept falling ill and no one could work out what it was. It was so unlike bolshy, energetic Nell to be tired. But she would lie in bed for days, unable to move and in pain, while her doctor talked about anxiety and viruses and chronic fatigue syndrome. She swung between rage and despair. We all did.

Then she was diagnosed, and it was almost a relief to know what was wrong but scary too. Because now it was a real thing. Is a real thing.

“And you all look after her?” I can sense that Matt is trying to work out the parameters.

“Not look after her. Just, you know, be there. And not just us,” I add quickly. “Her mum stays over a lot, although they have quite a volatile relationship. And there’s her brother and his wife, although they’re down in Hastings, so…”

“Right. And is there a guy on the scene? Or girlfriend?” he adds quickly.

“There’ve been a couple of guys since she was diagnosed. But neither of them stuck around. They got bored when she had to cancel things, over and over.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s tough.”

“I’m sure.”

“I didn’t tell you before because she’s…” I hesitate. “She hates people knowing before they have to. But now you have to. I mean, you would have found out sometime.” I pause, staring at the windscreen wipers, then add, “This is part of my life, as well as Nell’s.”

    “I get that.” He nods, and we sit quietly for the rest of the journey. Not in a bad, toxic silence but in a peaceful silence. I’m not sure we’ve fixed things exactly, but at least we’ve put down our weapons for a breather.

As we pull up outside Nell’s block of flats, Matt says, “Shall I come in?” but I shake my head.

“Better not. Nell’s quite private.”

“But I’d like to do something.” He looks troubled. “Ava, I want to help—”

“You did. You brought me here. Really.” I nod reassuringly. “I can take it from here.”

“OK.” He turns off the engine, rubs his face for a few seconds, then turns to me. “Well, look. Before you go: Can I take you out for a drink? Or dinner? Let’s go out for dinner. A date,” he adds, as though finally arriving at the correct word. “We haven’t had a proper date. It’s ridiculous.”

“We haven’t, have we?” I smile. “Unless you count jumping into the sea.”

As I say the words, a vision of that long-ago day dances across my mind, and I feel a visceral pang of longing. Everything seemed so simple on that beach. Sun blazing down, sea salt in my hair, and a super-hot, perfect guy. Nothing to do but sunbathe and kiss. No rest of life. No wretched messy, stupid, bloody life to get in the way.

And I know it wasn’t real, I know that.

But real is hard sometimes. Real is really hard.

“Speaking of jumping into the sea…” Matt breaks my thoughts—and I look up, wondering where he’s going with this. Then, to my surprise, he opens the car door and gets out. “Wait there,” he adds.