Straight and Narrow

8

I take hold of his shaking hands in mine and look up into his shining eyes. Oh no, if he bursts into tears it's going to be so much more difficult.

"Be strong baby," I get hold of his face gently and kiss his nose and lips tenderly.

"Promise me you'll be here when I get back." He runs his hand through my hair savouring the softness of it, I washed it especially for him.

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat, "I promise."

"Good girl, even when it's hard you have to fight okay?"

"I'll fight until there isn't an ounce of strength left in this old girl," I playfully put my hands on my hips and pose.

A voice comes over the tannoy asking people on the flight A173 to make their final preparations and get to the departure lounge.

"That's me," he smiles sadly at me and kisses me passionately, one last time. I try not to believe that it's the last time that might ever happen.

"I love you Danny," I blow him a kiss as he swings his bag over his shoulder.

"I love you to Lanna." As he walks away I see him wipe his eyes.

I long for him to turn round and see that the smile on my face isn't genuine. I really don't want him to go but I have to let him go, it's being selfish otherwise. If I tell you the truth, I'm scared, no, correction... I'm terrified. It physically hurts the thought of never seeing him again, and that thought becomes closer to reality with everyday that passes. I've only had one lot of chemotherapy, and Danny sat with me all through it while I cried because it hurt, he's being my rock and my rock has just been torn out my grasp.

"Come back boo," I whisper to him but he's gone.

As soon as he's out of sight I suddenly feel exhausted, I've been stood up for about fifteen minutes. A wave of nausea washes over me and I dart to the nearest toilet, only just making it into an empty cubicle before I vomit up everything I've eaten today. I grab a handful of toilet paper and wipe my mouth. It comes away covered in blood. Fuck! These damn nosebleeds. I sit on the toilet seat by myself for ten minutes with my head tipped back, trying to stem the bleeding.

I slept for hours on the plane, with my head on Mark's should apparently, much to his amusement. Eventually we touch down on US soil, my heart rate steadies finally as the plane comes to a stop. Man I hate flying. But I know that I'm finally safe.

We walk out into the airport to the feel of air-conditioning on our skin. I've heard that Los Angeles summers are hot, it'll be interesting to see how two Irish dudes deal with the desert heat when the most they're used to is about twenty five degrees.