Page 81 of Days You Were Mine

‘Remember this? You were wearing this the day I fell in love with you.’

He nods but doesn’t smile, and I put the scarf on top of the chest of drawers, knowing I’ll need to look at it later.

‘What are you doing?’

I hear how hard he has to dig for each word.

‘They want you to go into hospital today.’

I feel treacherous saying it, this word ‘hospital’ which he loathes and dreads and fears.

‘No.’

I return to the bed and sit on the edge. I reach out for his hand, but he shifts away from me, a sullen child.

‘NO.’

‘Jake. Please. You have to do what the doctor says. You’re so unwell. They only want to make you better.’

‘What about …’ He breaks off, the effort of speech exhausting him. ‘What about our baby. Can’t miss it.’

‘It will probably be late. First babies often are. You’ll be back by then, I know you will.’

He turns his face away from me.

‘So you’re on their side?’

‘Of course I’m not. How can you say that? All I want is for you to get better so you can come home again.’

‘What if I say no?’ He speaks the words to the window. And he knows the answer just as I did.

‘They are going to make you.’

We’re both crying now, and I lie down beside him. This time he does let me hold his hand.

‘It will be all right,’ I say. ‘It won’t be like last time because now you’ve got me.’

Jake manages to nod before he turns away.

I finish packing his bag. A pair of jeans. Toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, a brand-new bar of soap. I reach for his razor and snatch my hand away, thinking better of it but hating myself a little more.

It’s almost 2.30 by the time I’ve finished. Robin and the doctor are arriving in half an hour: Robin to drive him, the doctor to enforce his admittance if required. My heart is bleak.

‘I’ll go with you,’ I say, but Jake shakes his head.

‘No. Come here.’

I lie back down next to him, and this time he wraps his arms around me just as he used to.

‘I don’t want you to see it. I told you what those places are like. It will frighten you.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘But I do.’

‘You’ll let me visit you, though?’

He squeezes my hand. ‘I’m counting on it.’

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