Page 111 of The Side Road
‘Did you sabotage the BMW? Because that would be impressive.’
‘No. That was just good luck. Pass me that basket.’
Mia handed him a wicker container for the empty bean husks. These would go into the compost.
Mia’s pile of beans looked untouched. Leo’s pile had almost vanished.
‘You know how some little girls harbour a desire to get married,’ she said. ‘They plan weddings for their pets and make their Barbie dolls walk down the aisle. They coo over celebrity weddings and wear dresses that resemble bridal gowns.’
‘You’re going to tell me that you were one of those little girls.’ Leo had finished his beans and started on Mia’s pile. ‘I know. I remember.’
‘I even collected photos of brides and made a wedding scrapbook. After Alfie, I thought it might not happen. For the last three years, I’ve worked very hard trying to deflate thatdream. Six months ago, I was in a good place. Now look at me.’
He studied her face. ‘Puffy,’ he confirmed. ‘What are you going to do about this running-away disease?’
‘I don’t know. Any advice?’
‘Stop running.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Easier said than done. It’s like fighting a primal instinct – it doesn’t feel natural.’
‘Knitting a fancy Fair Isle jumper isn’t easy. But staying happy in a long-term relationship might be harder. Given our misleading romantic culture, it might be the hardest thing in the world.’
With the beans podded, Leo took the wicker basket filled with husks to the compost. When he returned, he sat down on the wall beside her again.
‘Will Blanche be back soon?’ Mia asked.
‘I’m afraid we’ve set you up, again. I have bad news.’ He patted her knee. ‘I got my tests back – the third lot. The doctors wanted to confirm some of the results.’
Mia froze.
‘Blanche has gone to see Oliver and Tash. I have a…a final diagnosis.’
Her hands began to shake. ‘What do you mean by a final diagnosis?’
‘I have a brain tumour. It’s terminal.’
‘The brain freeze? The Portuguese chicken?’
‘Yes. I’ve known for a few months. The radiation hasn’t worked. I’ve decided to stop the treatment.’
‘But you have to try.’
‘I don’t like it – headaches, insomnia, nausea. And there’s no guarantee it’s going to work. I shall live out the rest of my days happy – it might be shorter, but it’s the quality that matters the most.’
Leo had the look of a soldier who had single-handedly lost a war. It was too much for Mia. She covered her face with her hands. Tears caught in her throat, and her eyes streamed. It was a big heartfelt cry that wracked her whole body.
‘Getting old sucks,’ she said.
‘It’s worse if you get old and mean.’ He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on. I’m not dead yet. An old man is knocking at my door, but I’m not letting him inside.’
35
AN ENDONE
Though in a state of exhaustion,sleep was impossible for Mia. She tossed and turned. The room was too hot and then too cold. There was no air, but opening the window caused her to shiver. Finally, giving up on sleep, she lay quietly in bed. There was a lot to think about: blood tests and scans in Sydney; he had known about this for months; it was terminal; he had stopped further treatment. Leo was old, but he wasn’t an old man. He was too young to die.
At seven, she pulled back the covers and made her way to the kitchen. Because there was nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day, she focused on making the perfect cappuccino and finished with a feather motif in the froth. Unfortunately, the rich, evocative scent didn’t help her melancholy. Grief had robbed this small pleasure. As she brought the cup to her lips, her phone rang. It was her brother. She put her coffee down and answered Jamie’s call.
