Page 147 of While I’m Still Here

“I don't want to.”

“Why?”

Bea's eyes drift towards the treatment beside her.

That answers the question.

She doesn't want to stop paying attention. If she's awake, she can watch it happening. She can know where she is and what everyone is doing. Sleep means giving up control again, and she's had enough of that lately.

Marcus seems to understand too. “Nobody's going anywhere.”

Bea looks at him, then to Colin and me. “You promise?”

“Yes,” Colin says immediately.

“Obviously,” I tell her.

Marcus simply nods. “We're here.”

A few minutes later, she falls asleep. Her head tips sideways until it rests against her shoulder, and her hand falls into mine. I go very still, not because I'm uncomfortable but because I suddenly understand the ridiculous importance of not moving. Her breathing evens out. One hand remains curled loosely around Colin's. Marcus sits on her other side, quietly reading something on his phone, and for the first time all day, nobody talks.

I look down at her.

This morning, I thought my job was to make her laugh. I brought Derek because I couldn't bear the thought of Bea looking at me and seeing the same fear I saw every time I looked at myself. I thought if I could keep being Danny, if I could keep saying stupid things and making her roll her eyes, maybe cancer wouldn't get to have every part of the day.

But sitting here now, I think maybe this is part of it too. Being quiet. Letting her sleep. Not needing to fill every frightened second with something clever. For once, three men who are almost pathologically incapable of behaving normally around the same woman manage to shut the fuck up, and Bea sleeps through her first chemotherapy appointment with all three of us still exactly where she left us.

Chapter 23

Wednesday 8 a.m.

Tumours: 0.

Breasts: 0

Chemotherapy sessions: Too fucking many.

Boyfriends: Apparently 3

Ginger sweets currently in my possession because nobody communicated: 47 packets

Inflatable penises murdered in the line of duty: 1

Hairs on my pillow this morning: Too fucking many

Times I have told myself I knew this was coming: 16

Times knowing has helped: 0

Current relationship with my scalp: It's complicated.

Chapter 24

HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

Beatrice ‘Bea’ James

My hair starts falling out on a Wednesday morning.