Chapter 71 The Conversations He Avoids
Peter waited until Clara left for coffee.
He told himself this time it was about not wanting her to hear this particular conversation. But if he is honest, it is about cowardice. Or self-preservation. He is not sure which anymore.
Isaac arrives twenty minutes later with two takeaway cups and a look that suggests he already knows something isn't right.
“You look like you swallowed a nail,” Isaac says, setting one cup down on the side table.
Peter gave a faint smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Very,” Isaac replied.
Peter adjusted the seat beside him. “Sit.”
Isaac sat quietly folding his hands while waiting for Peter to initiate the conversation.
For a second neither of them speaks. Or perhaps they were wondering what should be said first, the oxygen hum filled the silence.
“There’s a trial,” Peter finally spoke up.
Isaac’s face changed almost imperceptibly as he still figured out what the trial was for; he asked, “What kind?”
“An experimental trial with high risk and high side effects, it can either extend my time or disrupt my span”
As if a tear should roll down his cheeks, Isaac went quiet for a minute, “If life were fair we won't have to decide whether to live or not”. This time he let out what he held in his eyes. “And what again?”
“And it might wreck whatever strength I have left.”
Isaac nods like he’s finally deciding to stay strong.
“How long do you have to decide whether we need this?”
“Ten days.”
“Jesus.”
Peter watches his friend absorb the shock he felt. Isaac was always the one who cried at every pain. But instead, he sat quiet staring into a blank space as it owed him answers.
“What did your parent say?” Isaac asks.
Hmmmm, Peter exhaled slowly.
“That’s the problem. They're too scared.”
Isaac leaned back in his chair. Crossing his arms. Unsure of what to answer, yet a decision must be made.
“What's the worst that could happen that we aren't expecting already, let’s strip it down,” he says. “I’d say you take it, best case is, it buys time. Worst case, you spend whatever time you have left feeling worse than you do now.”
Peter nods.
“Well if you don’t take it,” Isaac continues. “You preserve whatever normal you can. But the clock would probably not stretch either.”
There it is. Clean. No decoration.
The undeniable truths and the possible decisions are encrypted with their consequences.
Peter lets out a short laugh.
“Wow. You really didn't sugarcoat that.”
Isaac’s mouth twitches. “You didn’t call me for sugar.” They both laughed.
Peter looks down at his hands.
“I keep thinking about her,” he says quietly.
“Clara.”
“Yeah.”
Isaac studies him.
“Of course you are.”
Peter rubs the back of his neck. A nervous habit he thought he outgrew in college.
“If I take it,” he says, “I’m not the only one signing up for it.”
Isaac’s eyes sharpen slightly.
Peter continued.
“She’ll be the one watching,” he continues. “If it gets bad. If I can’t think straight. If I’m stuck in a bed again.”
Peter stares at the ceiling for a moment. Then continues.
“I don’t want to drag her through hell because I’m scared of dying,” he says.
The word settled in gently and deeply.
Isaac released a deep breath.
“And are you?”
Peter hesitates.
“Yes.”
The word comes out softer than he expects. He wasn't expecting that he would admit that she has been more affected, managing her health and now having to keep up with every turn.
Isaac nods slowly.
“Good,” he says.
Peter frowned. “Good?”
“Means you’re still human.”
Peter bowed his head, as he had finally realised how much this affected Clara.
“Isaac, I love her so much, I want to keep her out of this, she holds my heart. But she cares a little too much about me.”
Isaac leaned forward, elbows on his knees, like he was ready to tell a wise story.
“Here’s the quiet truth,” he says.
Peter braces.
“Whatever you choose, she suffers.”
Peter’s chest tightens.
“That’s not helpful.”
“It’s honest.”
Peter looks at him, waiting for the softening that does not come.
“If you take the treatment,” Isaac continues, “she watches you heal or hurt. If you don’t, she watches you sick. There is no version where she walks out untouched.”
Peter feels something sink inside him.
That was the truth.
“I was hoping for a third option,” he says.
“There isn’t one.”
The room goes very still.
Peter’s mind drifts for a second.
He thinks, maybe I am protecting myself.
The thought stings.
Isaac watches him carefully.
“You don’t get to control her pain,” Isaac says more quietly now. “You get to decide what kind of pain you’re both living with.”
Peter’s jaw tightens.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“Do you think it’s selfish to try to control how this affects her?” Peter asks.
Isaac considers.
“I think it’s human.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Peter studies his friend’s face. Isaac looks older these days. Or maybe just tired. They all do.
There was a switch now.
“You talked to me about the girl,” Peter says suddenly.
Isaac stiffens slightly but nods.
“I did.”
“You knew she was terminal before you got involved.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Isaac does not flinch this time.
“Because she was alive,” he says simply. “And I didn’t want to waste the time she had pretending I wasn’t.”
Peter lets that sit.
“Did it help?” he asks.
Isaac looks down at his hands.
“Sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“It hurt.”
Peter huffs a quiet breath.
“So basically, love equals pain.”
Isaac shakes his head.
“No. Love equals responsibility.”
The word lands heavier than expected.
Responsibility.
Peter closes his eyes for a moment.
“If I choose the trial,” he says slowly, “I’m asking Clara to hold more. To carry more.”
“You’re not asking,” Isaac corrects gently. “She already is.”
Peter opens his eyes again.
“That’s what scares me.”
Isaac studies him.
“You’re not afraid of the side effects,” he says.
“I am.”
“But that’s not the core of it.”
Peter looks away.
“I don’t want to become something she has to survive.”
The confession hangs there.
Isaac’s expression softens, just slightly.
“She doesn’t love you because you’re easy,” he says. “She loves you because you’re you.”
“And if ‘me’ becomes a mess?”
“Then she loves that version too. Or she doesn’t. But you don’t get to pre-decide that for her.”
Peter exhales slowly.
He hates how much sense that makes.
“You’re not going to tell her your decision yet,” Isaac says quietly.
Peter hesitates.
“I need to think."
“I’m not hiding it.”
“Not intentionally,” Isaac replies. “But you are delaying.”
Peter opens his mouth to argue.
But closed it back.
“God,” he mutters. “I hate when you’re right.”
Isaac does not smile.
“You don’t get to make this decision alone,” he says. “Even if your name is the one on the paper.”
Peter nods slowly.
“I know.”
But knowing and doing are not the same thing.
Footsteps approach in the corridor. Familiar ones. It was Clara’s.