Page 10 of While I’m Still Here

“Who are you with? Have you told anyone?”

“No one.”

I close my eyes because, of course, she hasn’t “Did someone at least go to the appointment with you?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had an appointment?”

“Because I didn’t know it was going to be a cancer appointment, Colin. I thought it was going to be a congratulations, your tit is a bit lumpy, but ultimately harmless appointment.”

My chest hurts, actually, fucking hurts. “I’m coming.”

“You don’t have to,” she rushes to reassure me.

“I know.”

That shuts her up, which is a miracle on its own. I pull my jacket on properly, grab my keys and leave my office without shutting down my computer.

“Colin,” she whispers my name.

“What, Bea?”

“I don’t want everyone to make a fuss.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“I know.”

I’ve spent twenty-two years wanting those words to mean something they don’t. Today, I couldn’t give less of a shit. “Have you eaten?” I ask her, because I need to focus on something else.

“What?”

“Food, Bea. Have you had any?”

“I had a custard cream at the hospital.”

I roll my eyes. “When?”

“I don’t know. Sometime before Cancer o’clock?”

“And have you eaten anything since then?”

“I made tea.”

“Tea isn’t food, Bea,” I reprimand her.

“It is emotionally. God, let a girl live.”

“I’m bringing dinner.”

“I don’t want dinner,” she argues.

“Must you be such a brat? You don’t have to eat it.”

“Then why are you bringing it?”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll declare girl dinner and eat a packet of custard creams, or decide one yoghurt counts as a meal.”