A Fighting Chance

Prayers

Tom sat in the living room and looked at his two little miracles. They were nearly 7 months old now. They were turning into proper little boys with their own personalities. His mum had forced him to take a couple of hours away. Get some rest, play with the boys, have a shower. I was stable, holding my own for now. He'd objected of course, but in the face of exhaustion and relentless badgering he gave in. He promised not to be long.

Chris was outgoing and boisterous, smiling and laughing at everyone. Just like his Uncle Chris whom he was named for . Jamie - named for Tom's Dad, on the other hand, was more serious. Watching, following everything with his intense little blue eyes. He reminded Tom of himself as a child. He had liked watching people and seeing what made them tick. Maybe that's what made him such a successful actor. The ability to tune into people and mirror their internal thoughts and dreams.

Dreams. We'd had had so many dreams. We'd loved and lost and loved again. The twins bringing us ever closer. Even when he was supposed to go away again earlier this year, and I had started to become ill, we'd learned from the past. Talked. Voiced our fears instead of suppressing them. It hadn't been easy, but it had all worked out. Up to that fateful weekend.

He blamed himself. If they hadn't gotten wet. If she hadn't gotten a chill he thought. Maybe...he stopped himself. No. It truly was a lottery. Self loathing was destructive. It nearly cost him the love of his life once. He wasn't going there again.

He picked Chris up and walked to the window. Granny D was due soon, her turn to watch them while he went back to the hospital.

" Mummy loves you little man" he whispered much like he did every time he saw them. He wanted them to have it embedded in their minds for when...he stopped. He couldn't face it. He couldn't bring himself to even think of his darling being gone. His heart was gripped by icy fingers and he couldn't breathe. Carefully he strapped Chris back in his highchair and picked up Jamie. His little shadow. Jamie's eyes followed him everywhere. He might be ginger but his face was pure Mummy. Her smile, her eyes. It was almost too much to bear. But he, and his brother, were living reminders of the their love. The bond they shared and everything that was good and wonderful in our marriage.

He had few regrets - apart from The Woman- the only other one he wished he could have changed was the fact I had never got my dream wedding. And if he was truthful, neither did he. Although Vegas was fun and immediate and exactly what they needed to do, from the moment he fell in love, he'd imagined a day standing in front of everyone. His beautiful bride on his arm, showing the world he'd done something right, that he really could be the person that deserved her. He promised now, here, silently, that he would give the wedding of my dreams and a honeymoon in paradise if only I would only stay.

He knew it was out of our hands. We relied on the kindness of strangers now. There was nothing else for it.

As he placed Jamie back in his chair, he kissed his son and whispered "mummy loves you " .
Diana appeared at the living room door, smiling tearfully at the little scene. Tom stood up and she hugged him tightly. She guided him to the sofa. He may be a foot taller and a grown man but he needed his mum.

Sitting together, he cried into her shoulder and she stroked his back, "Let it out darling" she soothed " mum's here."

"Oh Mum. She's going to die and I don't want her to. I love her. Please make her stay. You're my Mum. You can fix anything" he sobbed like a child and her heart broke.

" Oh Tommy" she patted his back like she had when he was a little boy with a grazed knee. " It won't ever feel fair and its not fair, but life's what's been mapped out I'm afraid. Fight son, fight like you've never fought to save your love, never give up and in the end it will work out exactly like its supposed to. And if I know Kate she's not going to give in .

" She said she was done mum. She's ready. I'm not though, I'm really not"

"Oh my poor boy" was all she said, holding his head to her shoulder as he hugged, hiding her broken heart as best she could.

He went for a shower before he went back to the hospital. Standing under the hot water, he tried for the millionth time to make sense of it all. He failed. There was no sense to be made of it. Life wasn't fair. As he dried and dressed, somehow he knocked the framed photo of the 2 of us off his bedside table. It was our wedding photo. He'd moved it to the bedroom when I'd gone into hospital at first so he could see me all the time. He knelt down to pick it up and his knee hit on the corner of a laptop, stowed under the bed. My laptop. Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of opening it, reading my stuff. Not that we had any secrets, just he respected my privacy, but something made him press the start button.

He knew what the password would be, it wasn't hard when he knew me as well as he did, and there on the desktop was a document "for Tom". With trepidation, he opened it. It was a story, of sorts, our story and as he read it, all the events of our tumultuous relationship played out before him. The first meeting, falling in love, America and the aftermath and the fight to save the marriage. Singing in the street and dancing in the dark. The story of Chris and Jamie and how I'd felt about him missing the news. It all danced before his tear-filled eyes. There, right there, hope was born again. He smiled, I knew how to get to him even now. For the first time in a long time he felt settled. There was only one thing for it. Follow my example. Closing the laptop, he slipped it back under the bed. He didn't stand up though, following my lead began here, now.

Closing his eyes, he started to talk. To God. It was a long time since he was a young boy attending Chapel at his boarding school. In those days he went because he had to. Prayed because he had to. Now he felt a fraud and a charlatan but he also knew this was his last avenue. His only hope. When I had prayed the other day, he had been taken aback, it never occurred to him to do anything like that. Not outside a church at least. It wasn't that he didn't believe, like me he was a sceptical believer. But now, he was willing to sell his soul to the Devil if that's what it took to fix things.

As he knelt, head against the side of the bed, eyes screwed shut praying, he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He could tell by the ringtone it was the hospital. He suddenly realised what it meant when people said they were so afraid, their insides turned to water. He stood up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table.

"Hello? Yes, it's Tom speaking" he sat on the bed, shaking like he'd never shaken before, his voice a whisper.

Diana came into the room when she heard the phone, her face ashen. She was ready to catch him if he fell. Literally and metaphorically.

There was a pause and he nodded before saying quietly, "I understand. I'll be there in a few minutes. Thanks" he clicked the phone off and turned to his mum. His face white, eyes closed, breathing heavily trying to keep composed. Tears streamed down his face.

"Oh mum" he sobbed as she came and sat with him "Oh mum." he slowly turned to her "It's over" she covered her hand with her mouth and felt her stomach lurch. Then, as she went to reach for him, he smiled weakly, as if he couldn't believe what he had heard. There was a weirdly happy look in his eyes and she was confused - was he in shock?

All he said was "They have a match".