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‘I thought so.’ He nods to himself. ‘I wouldn’t, though. Swap places. Sometimes I imagine being in your shoes and it sends me spiralling.’
Spirallingis one way of putting it.Freefalling into the abyssis another. Those sleepless nights imagining life without him will probably hit me when I least expect it for the rest of my days, try as I might to push them aside. ‘It’s nothing in comparison to what you’ve had to go through.’
He releases a frustrated grunt. ‘I’m not gonna lie to you and say I don’t desperately wish it never happened. Or that it won’t affect me for the rest of my life. But being the one to experience it firsthand turns me into an active participant, at the very least.Watching it must make you feel helpless.’
I’ve always admired Max’s ability to see other people’s perspectives. He’s wrong about this, though. ‘All I’ve done is stand next to you and worry.’
‘Exactly. That’s painful too. Especially after what happened last time. One person’s experience doesn’t cancel out another. You need to stop thinking your feelings aren’t valid, Col.’ His eyebrows draw together, and he looks so disapproving that it throws me for a second. ‘I’m serious, it’s getting annoying.’
Finn said something similar at the museum, without the irritation. I look at Max; messy hair that never sits right, the remnants of sunburnt freckles across the bridge of his nose. Somehow he manages to be strong and soft, where I’ve let it harden me. ‘I should be comforting you.’
He lets out another groan. ‘This is what I mean. I get enough pity, I don’t need it from you too. I shouldn’t have told you last month that I rely on you to be a certain way. I didn’t mean I rely on you to be stoic. I just meant that I appreciate that even though you might want to baby me, you don’t.’
I pull my denim jacket tighter around me as a breeze rustles the trees, and take a few breaths.
‘Idofeel sorry for you, though. And sad for you. That’s the truth. But mostly…’ I exhale slowly, letting the truth coagulate into a sentence. ‘I feel guilty.’
‘Shit, why?’ He scratches his arm and looks at me with a frown. ‘It’s not your fault I got this instead of you. It’s just the way it is.’
‘But it’s not fair.’
‘Obviouslyit’s not fair. But nothing’s fair.’
In some ways, Max is still the same little boy I grew up with. But it’s moments like these when I see the man he grew into; still reckless, still incapable of sitting still, but someone who can’t help but take life exactly as it comes, problems and all. I envy it.
He narrows his eyes and continues, ‘I think your guilt is getting in your way. I’ve seen you hold back for years from really living and I’ve never said anything about it because I haven’t wanted to believe it, but that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Maybe you don’t feel like you deserve good things, or you’re scared they’re going to be taken from you, so you never even try?’
I fiddle with my buttons just for something to do, and he gives me a knowing look that punctures the flimsy protection I’d draped over everything I’ve been trying to hide.
‘That’s bullshit, Ava, I’m sorry. Because if you live like that, then it means this disease has stolen from both of us. And that’s such a waste. Such a huge waste.’ He takes a doughnut from the box and adds, ‘And just really fucking stupid.’
‘You’rereally fucking stupid,’ I mumble, like I’m five. But he’s not stupid at all, because he’s got me all figured out. As much as I’ve tried to hide it, he’s been seeing everything all along. ‘I’m sorry, Max.’
‘For what?’ It’s like looking in a mirror when he’s annoyed. I don’t know what that says about my natural expression.
The words swell in my chest, itching to escape. ‘I thought I was handling it. It’s not your fault, I need you to know that. I’ve never wanted you to feel like you’ve—I don’t know—burdened me somehow. Not when you’ve had to go through even worse.’
‘Feelings, Ava. We’ve been over this. You have them. Let them exist.’ He sounds irritated, but he musses my hair briefly with his doughnut-free hand.
I wriggle out of his grasp. ‘You’re right about all of it. I think I’ve been using this mentality as a safety blanket, or a scapegoat. I could always blame this weird logic I’ve built that says everything’s going to be taken from me if I try. So when I started loosening my grip on that mentality and the rug was pulled out from under me, with you, and everything else,’ my mind flashes to Finn, so willing to tell me how he felt, whether I reciprocated or not, ‘it felt like vindication. Proof I was right all along that I shouldn’t try.’
‘Don’t you think it’s become a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy? Things can’t be taken from you, because you never let yourself fully have them in the first place. But that’s setting yourself up for failureevery time. At least when you take a chance, you only failsometimes. It’s a better success rate than never trying at all. Surely that risk is worth the reward.’ His gaze is discerning when he says, ‘Especially when the reward could be something really special.’
I sip my coffee, lukewarm by now, and we watch a mini leaf tornado spiral past us. ‘I don’t know how you see things so clearly. My mind’s a mess.’
He hasn’t completely finished chewing by the time he speaks again. If Dad were here he’d be shooting daggers. ‘I’m not sure I do, but I’m trying. And I’m better than I used to be.’ My mind flits back to a few years ago, when it felt like all we could do was watch him self-destruct from the sidelines. ‘I’ve bulldozed my way through five and a half therapists.’
‘What’s the half?’ I can’t tell if he’s guilty or amused. With Max, the two usually come as a package deal. ‘You know what? Never mind.’
‘The fact is, there’s a high likelihood this thing is a ticking time bomb,’ he says simply. ‘But if I let it consume me—and believe me, it’s crossed my mind—I’d be wasting so much fuckingenergy. So much time. Time I may or may not have. So I have to just… do things in spite of it.Becauseof it. I have to keep moving, have to keep living for right now.’ There’s a flash of sadness in his eyes, but it’s gone by the time I blink. He tears the rest of his doughnut in two and pops one of the pieces in his mouth. ‘If you want, I can give you all the tips on how to pretend you’re not dying. It’s liberating.’
‘Aren’t you scared?’
‘Of course I’m scared.’ It’s the first time his voice wavers. ‘But I’m alive, too. So that’ll have to do for now.’
‘That’ll do,’ I repeat in a whisper. Because it’s more than enough.
‘When you think about it, I might be the luckiest person on Earth.’ He stretches his legs out towards the path and starts listing items on his fingers. ‘The statistical probability of any human existing is so low to begin with. Factor in the fact I’m a twin, which is even less likely, add the fact I get this one-in-a-million cancer—’
