Page 21 of The Wish
‘That’s unfair, Dean. That’s something we definitely did talk about – there is no treatment in the world better than what she’s receiving here, and you know it.’
He turned to face her, his eyes swimming. ‘I asked you not to buy a black car,’ he said, using the same controlled tone as before.
‘What? Oh, for God’s sake,’ Mandy said. ‘What is your problem? I’ve always wanted a black car, you know this. I think they look stylish. What’s wrong with that?’
‘It’s not just a black car though, is it?’ The anger that Dean had been barely suppressing came to the fore, and he punctuated each word by stabbing his forefinger on the kitchen counter. ‘It’s the colour of a hearse. You are going to be ferrying around our daughter – our sick daughter – in a fucking hearse.’
Mandy stood still, as shocked as if her husband had slapped her across the face. Dean stalked past her, his expression fixed and grim. She finished loading the dishwasher, then wiped down the benches and swept the floor, all the while their argument going around and around in her head. They were both exhausted, both angry. They were misunderstanding each other and not giving each other grace. But to make things rightwould take more energy than Mandy could spare at this point in time, especially as she wasn’t sure Dean would be able to meet her halfway. If Jesse’s illness had taught her anything, it was that some problems are insurmountable and some problems are not yours to fix. She put the broom and dustpan into the cupboard, ran a cloth around the sink and the taps, then leaned both hands against the counter and stared at her reflection in the dark glass of the window, readying herself for the next confrontation.
She found him in the living room, his head in his hands. When he looked up at her, his eyes were red-rimmed, but she didn’t think that he had been crying. She knew he wouldn’t let himself. Her heart ached for him in that moment, especially as she knew she was about to hurt him more.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘Not for the car, not for its colour, but I should have told you that I had bought it. I’m sorry for springing it on you like that.’
Dean nodded, running his hand over his head. He seemed very subdued. All the fight had gone out of him. For now.
‘I think you should see someone, Dean,’ Mandy said gently.
He snorted. ‘Like that’s the solution.’
‘We can’t go on like this. It’s got to stop,’ Mandy told him, feeling strangely emotionless. She knew the tears would come, the guilt at breaking up her family. But this conversation was long overdue.
Dean looked down at the floor, rubbing his hands together, the muscles in his jaw working. ‘I know we can’t,’ he said finally.
Mandy sat next to him. ‘By “we”, I meant the kids, and me. We can’t keep being held hostage by your moods. It’s not fair, on Sam and Jesse most of all.’
Dean let out a deep sigh, as if he had been expecting this. ‘I know.’
He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, shuddering. Mandy placed her hand on his back. There was still love there. But right now, it was buried under anger, resentment, sadness and fear. In the face of Jesse’s uncertain prognosis, Mandy was putting everything she had into making life better for her kids. She needed to look after herself too, in order to show up for them in the way they needed her to. And Dean? He wasn’t letting the ones who loved him, love him. He was so intent on being strong that he wasn’t letting himself be cared for. And Mandy saw, with sudden clarity, that if he wasn’t going to let her care for him, then it was a job she could no longer take on.
He looked round at her, eyes red. ‘Seeing someone. Counselling. It’s not going to fix it, is it?’
She rubbed his back. ‘You never know. It might. If you give it a chance.’
He sniffed again. ‘That’s not what I meant. It’s not going to fix her, is it? What’s the good of counselling, what the point of making myself feel better, when . . .’
He left his sentence hanging, unable to say the words as he put his head back in his hands. They sat there, the two of them, on the couch, touching, but as far apart as they had ever been.
Lauren brings Mandy a cup of tea from the machine. ‘One sugar,’ she says with a smile.
Mandy takes it gratefully, and sips. She’s so thankful for the support of all these mothers, all who have similar worries, similar fears. She knows what Jesse’s prognosis does for the other families on this ward because she felt it too – huge grief and concern for the children and parents involved mixed in with the fear that death might touch them too, that it was catching. And it’s obvious that this is what Dean’s unreasonableness about it all – her car, Alex, Jesse’s wish – is all about: fear of death.
Finally, Dean breaks away from watching the football game with the other fathers, catching Mandy’s eye. She nods at him – it’s time to go back and be parents to their children. She gives Lauren a hug goodbye, whispers ‘thank you’ in her ear, and waves at the others.
Together, they walk silently back to Jesse’s room. Amy is stretched out on her bed reading; she looks up from her book and throws them a warm smile. Jesse and Sam are sleeping in each other’s arms. Mandy is overcome with love for her children. They fight and bicker, just like normal siblings, but it’s moments like this, the quiet moments where their love for each other shines so beautifully, that Mandy wants to bottle it up, to keep it safe for a moment in the future when she needs to access that memory.
‘I don’t want some stranger spending time with her when we don’t know how much longer we’ve got,’ Dean whispers, breaking the moment.
Mandy fights back anger, determined to remain calm. She wishes Dean could move past his fear to see how badly Jesse needs to have her wish come true.
‘Jesse knows what she wants and what’s she’s doing. We have to trust her,’ Mandy says, not making eye contact.
They regard their children in silence for a few more moments. ‘School tomorrow,’ Mandy says finally.
‘I’ll take Sam back home and wait for you there,’ Dean says.
Kissing Jesse on the forehead, Dean carefully picks up Sam. Cradling him in his arms he carries him out. Jesse wakes and struggles to sit up. Mandy gently pushes her back onto the pillows, stroking her daughter’s forehead, like she used to do when she was a toddler. ‘It’s all right, darling, you sleep.’
‘Mum, my wish—’
