He scowled. “She’s not going to hear me. Can’t you tell the difference between normal sleep and sleep so deep you wouldn’t hear an atomic bomb explode? No? Well, why would you after your perfect life instead of being a prisoner where every sleep you rested like the dead hoping, praying, that you’d never wake up.”
His anger whipped me until I felt sure I bled from lacerations. He cut my soul just like Clara tore out my heart. “Don’t make me tell you. Not with her in my arms.”
Please.
I knew it was coming. I knew it would happen. I’d tried to prepare, to face the end with strength and even a trace of bittersweet happiness at the thought of her no longer being in pain. But I hadn’t been strong enough.
Sucking in a breath, I muttered, “I’ll tell you, but give me time.”
Keeping his voice low, he whisper-shouted with pent-up rage. “No more time, dobycha. Now. I want answers. Now.”
What could I say? I knew this day would come; I had hoped I could pick the opportunity and circumstance, which was ridiculous considering Clara had so very little time. I had so much to tell him.
Time had run out. For all of us. It wasn’t fair. None of it. A man I loved hated me. A child I adored was leaving me. I just wanted to lie down and indulge in waves of self-pity.
He’ll hate me.
But he deserved to know. I should’ve told him the night he shared his story. That would’ve been the correct thing to do.
I waited for the crushing guilt of keeping it from him, but a chill entered my bloodstream, granting an eerie peace instead. I was numb. Numb to the new life inside me. Numb to what Fox would say.
The only thing that entered my self-imposed numbness was my anger and grief about Clara.
“I’m going to own a horse when I grow up. Lots and lots of them. Including Pegasus.” Clara’s sweet voice ran around my head.
I looked up into his blizzard eyes. It was time for the truth. Time to break Fox’s heart.
He leaned over me, looking menacing and cold. His energy slapped me with seething anger. “Tell me.”
Before I could open my mouth, he stormed away and dragged another hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry for being so f**king angry, and I want to console you and f**king support you—but you’ve been keeping this from me and I’m pissed.”
Spinning around, he faced me like a black hurricane. “So tell me the truth. What the f**k is wrong with her?”
I tried to stay strong, but angry tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. Making sure my hand was tight across her little ear and her eyes remained closed in sleep, I snarled, “She has PPB.”
“And what the f**k is that?” Fox growled.
Don’t say the C word. Don’t say it. It’ll make it true. Pretend. Forgot.
“It’s short for Pleuropulmonary Blastoma. She’s—”
Fox froze. “Cancer?”
I hung my head, fighting the tears, cursing my wobbling frame. Sucking a deep breath, I spat out the entire truth, the history, the fear, reeling it off as fast as I could. “I told you I bought her the star necklace on her fourth birthday. I couldn’t afford it, but I had to buy it. That was the first day she was admitted to the hospital from a coughing fit. She was so scared. So freaked out. After she was discharged, I would’ve done anything to battle away the terror in her eyes from almost suffocating to death.
“The next time was only a few months later. She’d gone from a healthy toddler to active child who would suddenly collapse in a coughing fit. She was diagnosed with severe asthma. We were given inhalers and oxygen purifiers and told to avoid certain foods. And for a while, it seemed to work.
“A few years went by with the occasional episode and two more journeys to the ER. Clara was a trooper. Never complaining, so strong willed and amazingly happy considering she had an array of tablets and inhalers to take and use every morning.”
I stopped. My lip wobbled, and I bit down on it, drawing blood, focusing on the pain. It helped mask the agony of remembering that day only a month ago.
Fox dragged his hands through his hair. “Go on. Don’t stop. I want to know all of it.”
“A month ago, Clara collapsed and the usual emergency inhaler didn’t work. She was announced clinically dead in the ambulance as we tore to the hospital. They managed to bring her back, but stole her from me for hours to perform tests. I had no idea what they were doing with her. I threatened to burn the hospital to the ground if they didn’t let me see her.”
I shook my head, remembering the exact afternoon as if it replayed in perfect detail before me. “Clara sat up in bed slurping on red Jell-O. She was awake, rosy cheeked, and happy. All my debilitating fear disappeared, and I felt as if life had finally given me good news. I’d done endless research on asthma in children and a lot of them grow out of it as they get older. I stupidly thought that the episode signalled the end, and she would never have another one again.
“That was before the doctors took me into another room and told me my daughter was dying.” My hands clenched and all the rage I’d bottled-up exploded.
I glared at Fox, not caring my cheeks were stained with tears. I wanted to kick and punch and kill. “That was the day they told me they f**king misdiagnosed my child. That she had Pleuropulmonary Blastoma and the tumours had grown so big they were suffocating her day by day. They said operating wasn’t an option as it’d spread to other parts of her body. They said the only choice was chemo, and that would only extend her life by a few months. They said they were f**king sorry and offered me counselling. They spoke about her as if she was already dead!”
Fox hadn’t moved. His body looked immobile, locked to the carpet. His eyes flashed with such livid anger I feared he’d track down the doctors and kill them himself.
“That was the day I died. I accepted your contract for a stupid fantastical dream of a trial drug in America. Something that has the power to reduce white blood cells and stop the cancer from spreading. But even if it worked, Clara is riddled with it. It lives in her blood. Killing her every second. That’s why I agreed to sell myself to you. That’s why I kept coming back. And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to admit my daughter was dying and I couldn’t save her. No matter what hope I chased I would fail.”
Fox tore his eyes from mine, pacing to the mural of the black fox on the wall. His hands opened and closed by his thighs. “How long?”
My throat closed up.