“You look nice,” I said, letting Kristen in.
Kristen worked as a medical secretary and she was dressed in her work clothes: white blouse, black skirt and sensible heels. She was twenty-eight, slim, around five-five with dark brown hair. Her eyes were the shape of her mother’s, but the colour of mine - brown.
“What are you up to?” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. “You don’t usually comment on how I look.”
“I just thought you looked nice, that’s all.”
She followed me into my living room.
“Coffee?” I said.
“That would be nice.”
I walked into the kitchen and set about making coffee. “Family well?” I called.
“They’re fine. Did you see Mum this morning?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How was she?”
“Not well enough to get out of bed.”
“She’s getting worse, isn’t she?”
“I’m afraid she is.”
“So the family’s fine,” I said, carrying the coffee into the lounge and handing her a mug.
She looked at me curiously. “They’re as well as they were when you asked me how they were five minutes ago. What’s going on, Dad? What are you so nervous about?”
“I have something to tell you,” I said, as she took a sip of her coffee. “Something the counsellor said.” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how to put it.
She put her coffee on a coaster on the coffee table. “So what did she say?”
I started to tell her what I had told Trish.
When she got the gist of what I was rather clumsily trying to tell her, she looked at me in alarm. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going into detail.”
“And what did she say?”
I told her what Trish had said about it being all right for me to start looking for happiness again.
Her jaw dropped. “She said WHAT! You can’t do that. That would be cheating on her.”
“Chrissie let me explain.”
Kristen got to her feet. “I’m off. I’m not listening to this.”
I jumped to my feet and grabbed her arm. “Chrissie, please. Let me explain.”
She paused, glaring at me. “It's disgusting, Dad?”
“Chrissie, she could be around for some time yet. I’ve waited for years already.”
I had never seen her so angry. “If it’s sex you’re after why don’t you just pay someone?”
It was my turn to be angry. I resented her talking to me like this. “Chrissie, I’ve never paid for sex in my life, and I’m not about to start now. You’re only considering your mother. I deserve some consideration too.”
Kristen’s face softened. “Can’t you just wait until she’s gone, Dad?”
“Chrissie, they thought she was dying when they took her into the hospice, but she rallied. And she could rally again.”
“Have you asked Greg and Caroline what they think?”
“Yes, I have. And they said to do what I had to do.”
Kristen’s eyes flashed. “Well I think you should wait.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go. I have some shopping to do before I pick the kids up.”
Extract from my book WILL YOU TELL HER, OR SHALL I? A true story. My story. The story of how I lived with the ten-year terminal illness of my wife. Available on www.amazon.com
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