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ringing. I follow the noise to the couch where David’s phone lay.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, is David Pricket there?’

  ‘No, this is his wife, Sheryl, who am I talking to?’

  ‘This is Molly from Lords Hospital. David has missed his appointment and I am calling for a reschedule…’

  My mind went blank.

  ‘He…he should be there?’

  ‘He hasn’t arrived yet and also he has not been to his last few appointments, so we need to reschedule…’ I hang up. I stand in silence for a minute, then grab the phone and dial.

  ‘Good morning, this is David from Perth Accountants, how may I help…’

  ‘Why the hell aren’t you going to your appointments?’ He hangs up on me. I huff and dial again.

  ‘Don’t you dare hang up on me!’

  ‘I am sorry… I… I haven’t been going…’

  ‘… Come home early before James finishes school.’ I hang up and throw the phone on the floor, it shatters. I breathe in and out deeply, then lie on the couch.

  I awoke to a kiss on the forehead. I jolt up.

  ‘Don’t you even dare… don’t. Just don’t.’

  ‘Look, I understand why you are upset, but I am doing it for you…’

  ‘What? doing it for me? Last time I checked I wanted you alive.’ I storm upstairs and notice the clock.

  ‘It is two fifty, James will be home soon. Where have you been?’ He hands me a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. Tears build in my eyes. I take them and grasp them tightly in my hands. I stomp into the hallway where we continue to fight.

  Cough, cough, cough.

  David has another coughing fit. Blood sprays across his hand and onto the floor. He passes out, hitting the end of the stairs. He collapses down and hits each step until he lands on to the hard wooden floor. I run to him, he isn’t breathing. I grab my mobile and call an ambulance.

  The ambulance shows up too late. His body is dragged out on a stretcher. I wail.

  David

  Cough, cough, cough.

  I slowly wake up then walk downstairs. It has been over a month since I found out I had Lung Cancer. I wanted to live my last months spending time with my family and not sick in a hospital bed with tubes stuck into my skin. Not that my wife would like that decision.

  I made James’ lunch; lollies, chips and cheese and biscuits, his favourites. Of course, he doesn’t know what is wrong with me. Sheryl and I thought it was best for him to enjoy being a child for a little bit longer.

  I phoned my Mum to come over to Perth for Christmas. She was reluctant, but agreed in the end. I couldn’t tell her, that her only child was dying, especially not over the phone and after what happened to Dad. He had Lung Cancer as well, but his was from the asbestos mines. He thought he would take matters into his own hands and hung himself.

  I made James pancakes because today was his last day of school. James clearly was very excited. Today was also my last day, last day at work. I want to spend my final months doing everything my family wants to. My wife thinks I finished work a few weeks ago, but how can I tell her I have stopped going to my appointments and have accepted death?

  My wife and son leave for school, and I for work.

  I quickly go to my desk when the phone rings.

  ‘Good morning, this is David from Perth Accountants, how may I help?’

  ‘Why the hell aren’t you going to your appointments?’

  I hang up. I feel my pocket, I must have dropped my mobile.

  The phone rings again, I pick up.

  ‘Don’t you dare hang up on me!’

  ‘I am sorry… I… I haven’t been going…’

  ‘Come home early before James finishes school.’

  She hangs up. I decide to leave work now and try to get my thoughts together before my wife eats me alive.

  I drive down to the local park. It is down the street from my house and was the first place we took James when he was a baby. Of course, back then I wasn’t allowed to hold him, but I didn’t care. I had my cigarettes, how selfish I was. I sit there for a few hours, remembering the time James fell off the swings and cut his head open. All those times when Sheryl and I had picnics here. Those memories are painful now. I look at my watch, two thirty. I walk down to the corner shop and buy some chocolates and flowers.

  I get home to find it very quiet. Sheryl was sleeping on the couch. I lean in and give her a kiss, she pushes me away. ‘Don’t you even dare… don’t. Just don’t.’

  ‘Look, I understand why you are upset, but I am doing it for you…’

  ‘What? Doing it for me? Last time I checked I wanted you alive.’

  She storms upstairs. I follow

  ‘It is two fifty, James will be home soon. Where have you been?’

  I hand her the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates. Tears build in her eyes. She takes them and grasps them in her hands tightly.

  I watch her go into the hallway. How can I tell her that I want to end my life on my own terms? We continue to fight.

  Cough, cough, cough.

  I have yet another coughing fit. Blood sprays across my hand and onto the floor. Then there is darkness.

  About the Author

  Marie Bertolini is a graphic designer, writer and drawer. She is in the process of completing a double major in Arts and Communications studying Creative Services and Writing. She admires creativity and the world around her really triggers her interests. You may contact her on her website at https://www.marie.com.au.

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