On Dublin Street(82)

Her eyes were wide as she took us all in, our worry blasting out at her. “I haven’t felt right for a while.”


“What do you mean felt right?” Adam asked impatiently, crowding her, his bristling, angry intimidation making Ellie flinch.


“Adam.” I pulled on his shoulder to get him to ease up but he just shrugged me off.


“I think the doctor was wrong about me needing glasses,” Ellie admitted quietly.


Dr. Ferguson cleared his throat, obviously feeling he should come to his patient’s rescue. “Ellie has told us she’s been dealing with headaches, numbness and tingling in her right arm, a lack of energy, some lack of coordination, and today she had her first seizure. We’re just sending her up for an MRI to check everything’s okay.”


“Numbness?” I muttered, glancing at her arm, images of her squeezing it, shaking it, flooding over me. The amount of times she’d told me she had a headache. Fuck.


“I’m sorry, Joss. I just didn’t want to admit I was feeling so rubbish.”


“I can’t believe this,” Elodie sagged against Clark. “You should have told us.”


Ellie’s lip trembled. “I know.”


“When will the MRI be ready?” Braden asked, his voice low and demanding.


Dr. Ferguson didn’t seem to be intimidated. “I’ll take Ellie up as soon as it’s free, but there are a few patients booked in before her.”


And so the waiting began.


~21~


After hours and hours of waiting, Ellie was sent home after the MRI. We were told because of the screw up her doctor had made not sending her for an MRI earlier that they’d request that the results be given as soon as possible. This still meant up to a two week wait. In the end we waited ten days, and those ten days were awful. A kind of blank numbness fell over us all as all the worst outcomes raced through our heads. I went to see Dr. Pritchard but I couldn’t even bring myself to talk about what was going on with me. It was a quiet session.


The whole ten days were a quiet session—the three of us sitting in the apartment, taking calls from Adam and Elodie, but not really saying anything. There was lots of tea and coffee-making, takeout, and television. But no discussion. It was like the fear had put a lock down on any meaningful conversations. And for the first time since we’d started seeing each other, Braden and I shared a bed without having sex. I didn’t know what to do for him, so I let him take the lead—when we did have sex it was slow and gentle. When we didn’t, Braden would roll me onto my side and wrap an arm around me, pulling me back into him, his head resting next to mine. I wrapped my own arm over his, hooked my foot around his leg and let him fall asleep against me like this.


***


Dr. Ferguson called and asked Ellie to come in to speak with him.


That was bad. That sounded bad. I stared at Ellie after she got off the phone and everything I’d been holding under, controlling, just burst apart at the seams. I saw the fear in Ellie’s eyes and I was so consumed by my own I couldn’t say anything to her that would help, so I didn’t say anything at all. Braden accompanied her to her appointment and I waited in the apartment—the big, cold, silent apartment—staring at the Christmas tree, disbelieving that Christmas was only ten days away.


The two hours they were gone I had to sit my ass on that steel trap door of mine to keep it closed. Or I wouldn’t be able to breathe.


When I heard the apartment door open everything felt lethargic, like we were moving underwater, struggling slowly against the weight. The sitting room door opened and Braden walked in, his face so pale and eyes so glazed, that I knew before I even looked at a tear-streaked Ellie. I knew what fear felt like when it was pulsing from a person, I knew how grief could thicken the air, how it could slam into your chest and cause pain through your whole body. Your eyes, your head, your arms, your legs, even your gums.


“They found something. A tumor. ”


My eyes flew to Ellie and she shrugged at me, her mouth trembling. “They’ve referred me to a neurologist, Dr. Dunham at The Western General. I’ve to go in and speak with him tomorrow about everything. About the next step. Whether it’s surgery. Whether it’s malignant or not,” Ellie finished.


This was not happening.


How had I let this happen?


I took a step back, confused, angry, disbelieving that this was happening again.


It was all my fault.


I’d let them in, I’d broken my rules, and I was back at square f*cking one!


Shit.


Shit!


SHIT!


But the terrified screams only echoed in my head. To Ellie I gave her a stoic nod. “You’ll be fine. We don’t know anything yet.”


But I knew. I knew. I was a curse. I knew I couldn’t be this happy. I knew that something bad would happen. What had I done to Ellie?


Ellie? I hurt for her. I wanted to take away her fear. I wanted her to be okay.


But I didn’t do any of that.


Instead I shoved her under my steel trap door. “I’ve got my shift at the bar tonight. I’m going to get in some gym time before then.” I nodded at them robotically and made to move past them.