I watched her stumble out of the airport with her bright yellow luggage and felt myself stiffen. I wouldn't have agreed to the holiday if I realised it was part of a plan to convince me out of my plans. She probably just said she loved me, probably just kissed me, to convince me out of it. Nathan laid an arm on my shoulder and I looked up at him. His face was grim as he watched Louisa leave. My mother ran after and all I could think was leave her. She deserves to find happiness.
Nathan wheeled me to the car and lifted my bags beside me.
"Thanks," I called to him. "For this... holiday."
Nathan turned to look at me in the corner of my eye and I felt him do something that resembled a scoff.
"It's not me you should be thanking mate." Nathan left. My parents were a mess when they finally arrived at the car - I couldn't imagine what had possibly happened to change the mood so quickly but my mother looked as if she was a corpse, her face blotchy and white while my father looked tense and uneasy.
"So... dinner?" I asked, trying to break the mood. My father looked at me with grief written across his face and looked to his wife who collected herself, her face blank and her voice monotone.
"Whatever you say Will."
The dinner was awkward - my mother was silent and my father's questions were too quick to keep a comfortable conversation. My mother busied herself in several glasses of wine until the point her face sagged with drunken relief. She had to be practically carried out of the restaurant. I sighed after I was left in my bed. What a beautiful holiday, to get to see Louisa so happy and adventerous and... loving. I closed my eyes but inevitable thoughts of my carer fell under my eyelids. I could still feel her legs entwined with mine as we shared a bed, her hand holding mine tightly. I could still feel her touching my face, still feel her lips on mine. The last time I would see her, it would be the back of her head. And the last time I saw her face would be when she'd met my eyes and I felt the weight of a tonne of bricks falling on my shoulders. Grief, guilt, anger, betrayal, even a little judgement was there.
I had only a few days left until my appointment at Dignitas. A few days left of the guilt of leaving my strange carer here. I felt my stomach twist in all sorts of knots.
The days felt like years. Without Lou there to keep me company, which I learnt, she had handed in her notice at the airport, the days stretched. Nathan had to stay with me all day to assist in feedings but I felt that even him, my friend, was angry at me for the way I'd treated Louisa. I was on my computer two days before the date of my death when I found a link on quadriplegic support groups that had already been clicked. I read through the various forum posts of questions - how can I have sex with my quad boyfriend? How can I comfort my UT employee? Where can I take my C4/5 SCI quadriplegic for a holiday?
This link had also been pressed, the text in purple lettering. I clicked it and read the question and the answers and realised, without doubt, that this was Louisa. "Busy Bee," half way through the post had commented saying she needed ideas for less physically straining activities as the man she was taking care of was recovering from illness. "Ritchie" commented with his email and some information about Mauritius and the beautiful beaches and staff who were trained to help out with disabled people... And I knew. It was my Louisa.
I pressed onto her name where her profile picture was a little bee, similar to the tattoo in it's shape and position. Her other posts were labelled beneath her name and slowly, almost carefully, I opened them. I felt like I was prying into the personal life of Louisa Clark - these were things she'd hidden from me, had never even told me about. These were her only hopes, I had realised. There were a few questions she had asked - how to help someone feel good, where to take them (me) on holiday, how and most recently, how to stop someone from killing themselves.
Answers littered the forum, telling her it wasn't her right to decide. She didn't know what it was like, they said. You can't tell someone not to kill themselves.
Other answers were polite and suggested that he - I - needed some love in his life. A puppy, a fish, a girlfriend. I grimaced at the idea of Lou bringing me a puppy, probably a fluffy little thing knowing Lou. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do with itself while I was in my chair. I noted the date of the post - just yesterday. She was still hoping, still pleading.
The same "Ritchie" from before commented again: Thinking of you at this time Bee. x
I wanted to cry also, as I read Lou's comments throughout the months.
"He's happier today! I no longer feel like he hates me."
"The clock is ticking and I just can't get him to leave the house..."
Her comments seemed to have lost the liveliness since returning from the trip. I wanted to call her. God, I wanted to call her and tell her to stop making a sap of herself. To tell her to stop posting about my life online. But I knew then, what I had doubted at the beach that night, that she did truly love me. No human would go this out of her way for someone she was just working for. I felt guilty for referring to her as my 'carer.' She was truly my friend. And... I felt something. Somewhere between love and absolute adoration.
How could I possibly reveal my feelings though? I had been blatantly clear on the beach - nothing would change my mind. I couldn't live this life, couldn't imagine never being able to walk or talk again. I'd been confined to the boundaries of the chair for two years, forced to watch as my friends got married and had children and got promotions. I was stuck like this.
Similarly, I couldn't imagine never waking up to see Lou making a nuisance of herself or never hearing her laugh again. I couldn't imagine never seeing her pull that face when I was teasing her and I most certainly could not imagine never kissing her again. I could still hear her words in my ear.
"I love you."
It was the day of the flight to Switzerland that I called my family over.
"I need to see Louisa." I met my mother's eyes. "I need to see her now."
My mother drove us all, including Georgina who was silent for once, to the Clark residence where she practically ran to the front door.
A sad, slim looking Josephine shook her head and held up her arms at my mother. I felt the tension from inside the car.
"She's not home," my mother muttered, eyeing the house, aggravation marked on her face. My father took her hand and rubbed it.
So Louisa had told them, I realised. There was no other explanation for Mrs Clark, the kind soul she was, being anything other than grateful to my mother. I didn't judge her for it, for revealing my plans. I could imagine Louisa lying in her bedroom for days without saying a word before revealing it. She would have kept it in as long as she could. I had no doubt it consumed her.
I heard Nathan's voice in my ear from this morning when I had revealed my feelings for Lou.
"You reveal this the day before you're meant to kill yourself?" His voice was the protective voice of a brother, not of my friend. His years of kind words had been swallowed by an angry tone. "You don't get to tell her you love her and then drop dead, Will. It's not fair."
I looked at him from the corner of my eye and raised my eyebrow. I had no plans of dropping dead just yet.
