Page 163 of Fe
Epilogue
20 years later
Ripley had never been more stressed in his life. His heart was juddering in his chest. It couldn’t be banging against his ribs but it felt as if that was exactly what it was doing. This was not the time to have a heart attack, though he was in the right place—in a hospital, surrounded by cardiologists, so if it did…
Stop fucking thinking about yourself!
Though, in his defence, he was only doing it to stop himself worrying about Fen. As if there was any likelihood of that. Ripley had one hand in his pocket, constantly rotating the hare netsuke. His good luck charm. It had turned out to be worth tens of thousands, but he’d never sell it.
“It’s okay,” Fen said, reading his mind, as usual.
Where had Ripley’s poker face gone? He couldn’t hide anything from Fen.
“It really is okay,” Fen repeated.
No, it isn’t.
Fen lay in bed looking as ethereally beautiful as he had all those years ago when they’d first met. Older, pale and too thin, but his blue eyes still bright. Ripley had a tight hold of Fen’s hand and he really didn’t want to let go. Except he’d have to, soon. He might not want to think about it, but he knew this could be the last time he was able to speak to Fen and hear him answer, the last chance to see his wide smile and hear his cheeky voice, and that just about destroyed him.
“The surgeon has done this hundreds of times,” Fen said. “I expect he could do it in his sleep. A robotic heart, implanted by a robot. Things are different now. No one had to die for me to get their heart. Rejection is a thing of the past.”
“We could have waited a little longer.”
“True, but the longer I waited, the greater the risk I’d not make it to this point. Plus, the survival rate… We looked, we judged, we decided.”
Ripley knew that between them they’d made the right decision but—if anything went wrong, how could he carry on living?
The nurse had given Fen his pre-op sedative and he kept yawning.
“Am I boring you?” Ripley lifted Fen’s hand and kissed his fingers.
“You never bore me.” Fen yawned again. “Not unless you’re talking about cricket. Who would have guessed a sport could be so dull?”
Fen had still gone to matches with him, though he usually read a book at Ripley’s side.
“It’s not dull. It’s strategic and tactical, and occasionally exciting.”
“Hmm. I’d rather go for random and spontaneous, and always exciting. It’s more fun.”
Ripley managed a laugh. “You nearly got us arrested.”
“Nearly being the important word.” Fen sighed. “I’m looking forward to going home. No more hospital food. Lovely views from our windows rather than concrete and air-conditioning equipment. Walks in the countryside. And best of all, 643 channels on the TV.”
Ripley chuckled. “Anything else?”
“Walking upstairs without gasping for breath. Playing golf.”
“You don’t play golf.”
“Oh no. I forgot. Best of all being in bed with you and you not panicking every time we wrapped our arms around each other and…” he lowered his voice, “we got up to fun stuff. I didn’t like you worrying I might not wake up.”
The lump in Ripley’s throat threatened to choke him.
“We’ve had the best life,” Fen whispered.
Ripley nodded. Speech was beyond him.
“I’ve enjoyed every bit of it.” Fen stroked his fingers. “Everything we’ve seen and done. Places we’ve been to. All our adventures.”
