Page 121 of Everything That Kills Me
Zeph shrugged. “Okay.”
She gave him a treatment schedule and Zeph put it in his folder with the other pages of information.
“You’re in your second year?” she asked.
“Third.”
“You might want to ask your head of department if you can start again next October. Take the time to get well.”
“Right.”
When Zeph failed to respond to her questions with more than a single word answer, she gave a sigh. “Phone any time.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Zeph pushed to his feet, stuffed the steroid tablets into his backpack and hurried out of the hospital. His heart felt as if it was going to explode. How was he going to hide this from Jack? But that’s what he had to do. Jack wasn’t going to stick around. Zeph knew that before Christmas he’d be gone again. Maybe by the time he reappeared, assuming he did, the treatment would be over and Zeph would either be in remission or not around anymore.
So he had to pretend to everyone that he was fine. He wasn’t going to repeat the year. Maybe he’d have to tell his supervisors because he might miss stuff because of hospital appointments, but no one else. He had from now until he arrived back at the house to get his head straight and his smile in place. He’d managed not to tell Jack he loved him, so he could manage this.
Martin and Paulo were a different matter. They’d take one look at him and know. They’d be upset and make him upset so better to avoid seeing them until he was in full control. As he waited for the bus to take him back into Cambridge, he called Martin.
“Hi, Zeph.”
Do not cry.“Hi. Everything okay?”
“Yes. You’re not though, what’s wrong?”
Bloody hell!Was he that much of an open book? “Jack’s come back.”
He could almost hear Martin gnashing his teeth.
“And what excuse did he come up with?”
“He was injured in an explosion. And before you ask, it’s the truth. I’ve seen the scars. He spent weeks in hospital, then a couple of months recuperating in Switzerland. His uncle has a house there. The thing is… You know you and Paulo had been thinking of going to Portugal for Christmas…could you still go? Jack’s asked me to spend Christmas with him. I’d come and see you when you got home.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea? Falling back into his arms?”
“Probably not, but it’s what I want.”
Martin didn’t speak for a while. “Okay, then.”
Zeph could tell by his tone that he’d disappointed him and felt awful but he didn’t want to ruin everyone’s Christmas.
“We can probably get a last minute flight. You’re sure?”
“Yes. We can have Christmas later.”
“Okay. We’ll WhatsApp on Christmas Day. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Zeph felt less guilty than he’d thought he would. He might have a miserable Christmas but he didn’t want that for anyone else.
Jack was cooking when he returned. They kissed and Zeph didn’t want to let him go, but made himself.
“I need a shower,” Zeph said.
“Are you dirty?”
“Filthy algorithms. You have no idea.” He hid all the papers about the cancer at the bottom of a box of lecture notes in his wardrobe and slipped the steroids into the inside pocket of a jacket.
