Читать книгу The Years of Loving You - Ella Harper - Страница 11

‘So. Tell me about the symptoms again,’ Sam said, taking Molly’s hands.

Molly tried not to sigh. They were currently sitting in bed going over and over the details. Again. They had done this a number of times now and Molly was feeling exhausted. She understood why Sam was doing this; it was his way of coping. He was a person who got to grips with something by gathering as much information as possible in order to make sense of it. It was all part of his process. Molly knew that Sam would spend considerable time after their discussions ordering books about early-onset Parkinson’s, scouring the internet for data and immersing himself in the subject so deeply he would practically be able to take an exam on it.

‘Primary motor symptoms are tremors, slowness, stiffness, balance problems.’ Molly leant back against the headboard. She was beginning to feel like a broken record. ‘Non-motor: changes in mood – depression being the most likely – sleep disorders, skin changes – whatever that means – problems with low blood pressure and sweating. I mean, you know this stuff, you’ve looked it all up.’

Molly faltered. She didn’t want to move on to the possible bladder and bowel issues or the way her speech might be affected. Not yet. Sam might have already read about those symptoms, but if he had, he hadn’t mentioned them.

‘Well, honestly, I don’t see that there is anything there we can’t cope with,’ Sam said confidently. ‘I know this is very grim for you and a huge shock.’ He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. ‘But I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone. Always know that.’

Molly started weeping again. She had done an awful lot of weeping over the past few days. Obviously it was a huge thing to deal with, but Molly had surprised herself with the volume of tears she had managed to produce. Yet oddly enough she no longer felt she was in a nightmare. Telling Sam had made everything feel extremely real. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Since she had dropped her bombshell a few days ago, she and Sam had done nothing but talk non-stop about her illness. Molly wondered what on earth they had talked about before, because it seemed that every single conversation revolved around Parkinson’s in some fashion. It was overwhelming to say the least.

‘We will need to get a second opinion, of course,’ Sam said, reaching for his phone. ‘I’ll see if I can rush you through to see someone. I have a few contacts I can probably lean on.’

‘I don’t need any kind of special treatment,’ Molly said, swinging her feet out of bed. She placed them on the floor cautiously. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but since her diagnosis, she seemed acutely aware of all movement and motion. Being able to walk, to pick something up, to clean her teeth. Writing something down, using her phone. Each of these actions gave her relief and, at times, joy. It had only been a few days, but Molly was suddenly so appreciative of the things she had previously taken for granted.

Which was a horrendous cliché, of course. Not appreciating something until you were threatened with the loss of it. But Molly couldn’t help it. Being told she might lose control of certain motor functions, that she might not be able to conduct herself in the way she always had, had been like someone throwing cold water in her face. It was a sharp shock and it had brought everything into focus.

Molly heard her phone alerting her to another text message. She glanced at it quickly. As she thought, it was Ed again. Molly really had to get back to him soon, before he got really worried.

‘I wasn’t thinking of any kind of special treatment,’ Sam was saying mildly, already selecting a number from the address book in his phone. ‘I just think it’s important that we get you seen immediately. I mean, until we do, we don’t actually know if we’re dealing with early-onset Parkinson’s. We could be looking at –’ Sam turned to his iPad, predictably already open at the Michael J. Fox Foundation page ‘– any number of neurological disorders. We don’t know anything for certain yet.’

‘True.’

Molly knew Sam was clutching at straws. She would let him. It was his way. It was what he needed to do. Of course he wanted to think it might be something other than Parkinson’s; it was only natural. She would feel the same in his shoes.

Molly walked to the bathroom, enjoying the sensation of thick carpet beneath the soles of her feet. ‘I’m going for a shower,’ she said over her shoulder.

Sam wasn’t listening. He was already on the phone to his contact, whoever that was. Switching the shower on to get the water heated up and spending a fair time cleaning her teeth, Molly peeled her t-shirt over her head. Ed always used to laugh at her cleaning her teeth before she had a shower, but her argument was that she was such a clean freak, she liked to feel completely fresh and sparkling by the time she left the shower.

Ed. Molly leant her head against the cool tiles in the shower. She must speak to Ed. She had missed his engagement party and she had to explain why.

Molly hoped Ed would forgive her for missing the party. After all, he had managed to make it to her wedding, despite the way things had been between them. Molly felt a pang when she remembered that time. Christ, she had been so in love with Ed. Not at her wedding, but before … What she felt for Sam was completely different. Safe, secure, deep. Molly’s feelings for Ed might have been passionate and romantic, but they were childish by comparison. Passion was overrated. It didn’t last and it wasn’t more important than friendship and companionship.

And that wasn’t to say that she and Sam didn’t have passion, Molly thought to herself, pushing her wet hair back from her face. It was just more measured. Not as uncontrollable and head-spinning. Although – Molly paused with her shower gel in her hand – when had they last had sex? She couldn’t rightly remember. But there had been a lot going on lately. Her worry over her health, her diagnosis – and Sam had been extremely busy. Well, Sam was always busy, but he had seemed even more distracted than usual. Molly felt guilty about that. He must be finding it difficult to juggle everything now that she had ducked out of work to paint more. Molly reasoned that Sam could always hire someone else, but she knew Sam liked keeping staff to a minimum. And that he preferred to work with her.

Molly wondered if she should join Sam at work again. It would be disappointing to have to do it now that she had finally got back into her art, but if she wasn’t able to paint any longer, what did it matter? She felt the now-familiar stiffening in her hand and cursed it. Bloody, bloody disease. She jumped as she heard the door opening and put her hand behind her back.

‘I’ve managed to get you an appointment for tomorrow,’ Sam said, poking his head into the bathroom. ‘With a top guy. We’ll find out if you have this once and for all. Or if it’s something else. And then we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with and how to plan for it.’

‘Right. Great, thanks. Sam,’ Molly called to him before he could walk away. ‘Um. Join me?’ She wasn’t sure if she was after sex as such. Maybe just a cuddle. A wet one. Intimacy. Something to reassure her. Something to convince her she hadn’t suddenly become the sexless being she felt she had.

Sam smiled. ‘Very tempting. I wish I had time. But I have to get to the office – I have about six meetings today.’

‘Can’t they wait?’ Molly felt exposed, vulnerable. ‘It’s just – I’d really like to spend a bit of time with you.’

‘In the shower?’ Sam grinned and glanced down at himself. ‘I’m fully dressed.’

‘Then come in and get wet with me. Please.’ Molly hoped she didn’t sound desperate. But she really needed Sam. She needed him to be with her, to comfort her, to let her know he still loved her. Not just as a wife, but as a woman.

‘Molly, I’m really sorry. Can we call a rain check until tonight?’ Sam looked at his watch. ‘I really want to, but I have to get to the office.’

‘Sure.’ Molly turned away so he couldn’t see her tears. She heard the shower door open and felt Sam’s hand on her waist.

‘Molly. I’m not freaked out, I promise. I just have to be somewhere. And I meant it about tonight.’

‘But I really need you, Sam. I need you.’ Molly sounded whiny. She hated it when she sounded whiny. She got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body.

‘And I need to be somewhere else,’ Sam said firmly as he walked away.

‘Why do you never put me first?’

‘What?’ Sam stopped by the door.

‘Why do you never put me first?’ Molly repeated.

Sam looked furious. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

Molly shook her head. ‘I’m not. It’s just … I just sometimes feel like I come second for you, after your work.’

Sam let out an impatient sound. ‘Really? Are you actually saying that to me?’

‘I’m actually saying that to you. And do you have to keep answering with questions?’

‘You’re being stupid.’

Molly stared at Sam. ‘Am I? I’m being stupid because I want you to be here with me. To make me feel like I’m not just a walking disease. That you still see me. Me, as a person.’

Sam bit his lip. ‘Of course I still see you, Molly. How could I not, when you’re standing there yelling at me? Oh, I’m sorry, that was another question. Do forgive me.’ He left and slammed the door.

Molly walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and started to cry. Sam was trying hard to be good about her diagnosis. He was coping the only way he knew how. But she couldn’t help wishing he had put work to one side. Just this once. To stay with her, to put his arms around her. To love her and let her know that nothing would change between them.

Molly knew Sam was hoping the diagnosis was wrong. She was too, obviously. But she knew it wouldn’t be any different to the first opinion. It would be exactly what she had heard from Mr Ward. Molly wasn’t being defeatist about it; she just knew when something made sense. She didn’t blame Sam for wanting to hear something else. He didn’t want her to be sick – why would he? He wanted her to go back to normal. He wanted everything to be normal between them again.

But Molly knew things wouldn’t be normal again. She wasn’t being negative, she was being realistic. And Sam would be too. Once they had the second opinion confirmed, Molly knew Sam would be fine with the whole thing. He would be his usual practical self, sorting out a plan of action, wanting to know every type of medication available and basically taking control.

It was for the best that Sam was this way, Molly decided. After all, she was so far out of control, she needed someone to rein her in. She just hoped Sam remembered she needed love and affection as well as support. And that rows were the last thing she needed. Even though she felt she might have started the one just now.

She stood up and tiredly selected some underwear. As soon as she had the second opinion confirmed, she would go and see Ed. She was loath to pee on his bonfire when he had just got engaged, but they were best friends. If Ed had news like this, she would want to know. She would have to know. Molly also knew that if Ed had something like early-onset Parkinson’s, she would feel as if her heart was breaking.