I watch the sadness grow in him, I know he loves me and can’t leave me. I wish that he could. Last night’s dream was about this, wasn’t it …..

In the dream I was in the apartment, going up the stairs in the dark. The corporal was at the bottom of the stairs, calling me. I wanted to go down to him but couldn’t …. had to keep climbing those stairs, each step taking me further away from him. There was someone at the top of the stairs, waiting for me. I was terrified, didn’t want to see who it was but I couldn’t stop myself from climbing and so I woke up as I always do when dreams get too stressful. Woke up to a reality that’s turning into a nightmare.

I take a shower and find a patch of skin on my belly has gone blotchy. Small at this stage, but it will grow. Any doubts I had about this not being the sickness have been well and truly shattered. It’s only a matter of time before I look like Sarah. I think that was her in the dream, at the top of the stairs.

The corporal is showing no signs at all of any symptoms. He’s strong and healthy, his immune system has protected him so far but can it protect him once the sickness is full-blown in me? I stand at the bedroom window and stare out at the new day. Has the sky ever looked so blue, the clouds so white and carefree ….. the sea sparkles in the sunlight, the sand glistens white ….. why does it have to look so damn beautiful just when I’m about to lose it all?

Enough of the self-pity. What am I to do about the corporal? I shouldn’t be sharing his bed, he shouldn’t even be in the same house with me now that it’s confirmed I’ve got the sickness.

He returns from his early morning run on the beach, treads silently through the house so as not to wake her. Stops at the bedroom door. She is standing by the open window, the morning light streaming right through her as if she was already no longer here. The corporal hesitates, then turns and walks back to the kitchen. They have eggs from hens running free-range on the neighbouring farm, tinned ham ….. a good breakfast is what she needs.

chapter 59

from A Shattering of Glass