Peter took his rejection well. He stopped talking about love, but he showed his love in every sentence, every kiss.
I flew to Heathrow and Peter was there, waiting. Tom “didn’t do airports”.
Peter was holding and kissing me, without being shy about those PDA’s.
“Oh Peter, I love you”. It came out of my mouth and it was true.
“Are you sure, Lucie?” I was sure.
“What about Tom?”, he asked.
“Fuck Tom,” I said and then we both started laughing and Peter said, “I won’t fuck Tom, and neither will you!”
Suddenly everything seemed right in my life.
Tom wrote to work.
“I am ready to start working.” He fell asleep smiling.
He was not smiling in the morning. “Get better first!” they wrote. Tom’s eyes watered.
” I am getting a cold”, he thought.
“Fuck “, he said aloud “they all think I am dying!”
The physio Gary entered the room. “Who?” Tom told him. “Let’s show those fucking idiots that you are not”.
“Yes, the fuckers” Tom agreed.
Dr Salehi’s bearded face appeared in the door. “Does this language really help? How old are you, Mr Stone?” Before thinking, Tom said “56”. They were all laughing now.
I am having an affair with my gardener after all.
Peter’s shyness is disappearing, he talks more. We won’t move in together, we give each other space.
Peter, like me, is a sexual creature. He pops in between jobs, and we make love.
He tells me such nice things!
“Lucie, you are so sexy, beautiful, and magically quirky. You make me happy, more confident, bolder.”
When we go out, Peter holds my hand and kisses me, nice, non-sexual kisses. He smiles a lot when he is with me, we both smile.
No man ever treated me that way.
His positive attitude to treatment did the trick. Tom now plots his blood results on a graph, and he drives the doctors nuts by his questions.
The young intern Encarna told him that she will ask if Tom could be discharged, she has had enough of him as a patient.
“I wish” said Tom. But he knew he wasn’t ready.
“May I start working out? “
“Just gentle physiotherapy before we let you lift weights, old man.”
“Old man!!!! Is that a declaration of war?” but he smiled. “Send the physio, young woman!”
“Yes, Sir, whatever you say, Sir.”
Omid’s big nose enters the room before him.
“What the fuck, Tom? Why didn’t you tell me you are sick, and that your specialist is Iranian?”
Omid’s trust in the powers of nepotism ran deep.
“Farid said you are refusing treatment. Don’t be such a coward! “
Not hearing he was brave was refreshing.
“Go to hell, Omid!” It felt great not to be polite.
“Sorted. They will harvest your bone marrow, then attack the lymphoma. You will feel like shit, but you will survive. “
“I feel like shit already, leave me alone!”
But he didn’t really mean it.
After theatre, Peter insisted on walking me to my door.
He kissed me, and once he started, neither of us could stop. He was bending towards me, his strong arms holding my shoulders.
I paused to open my door, wondering if he would fuck me on the floor in my hallway.
I would have let him. But opening the door jinxed it. Peter mumbled something. I never understand him when he mumbles, and then he fled.
I closed the door, my heart was beating fast. It was not the only part of my body that was pulsating. Brain is sexy.