Flashbacks | Zalfie

Chapter Nine

Ian looked up at me with round, questioning eyes as I stared back at him. How was I supposed to pick him up again? I'd forgotten.

Using both hands, I very carefully scooped him up and rested him in my arms, kneeling down so there wasn't a long drop. I used my right hand to shake up the milk and place the bottle to his mouth, allowing the week old baby to suckle from it.

His wide, brown eyes that looked so much like Alfie's gazed up at me. It felt like I was looking into Alfie's own eyes. I saw the world in those sparkling orbs.

"You look so much like Alfie - I mean, your daddy - you know?" I smiled sadly. "You would've loved him. And he would've loved you." I sniffed away the tears that were threatening to spill out of my eyes. "He was the bravest man I've ever known. Even when he knew he was - that he was dying, he still found a way to smile, a way to laugh. A way to make me laugh."

And I swear, in that moment, his eyes sparkled with tears.

Flashback

I was eight months pregnant when he told me.

Alfie had undergone a dose of chemo, and he was allowed to stay at home until they found out if it had made positive difference, on the understanding that he would attend a weekly checkup. Usually, I went with him, but I had stayed at home to paint another fraction of the babies room.

It had crossed my mind a few times that I may have to bring up a child without Alfie. Since meeting Alfie, I had never really considered the possibility that we might not get married, have kids and grow old together. I tried not to think about it, tried to tell myself this baby would have a mother and a father, and little brothers and sisters, but somewhere in the back of my mind the thought was always there.

I was laying across the couch with Friends on the telly and Nala's head on my round stomach when the key moved in the lock. My head shot up, eager to see Alfie.

"Hiya!" I chirped as he entered the house.

He offered me a weak smile in return.

I heaved myself off the couch and waddled over to him, aiming to give him a kiss. But he moved his face at the last second and my kiss ended up landing on his cheek.

A bit put off, I walked over to the fridge and grabbed some eggs. "Would you mind buttering some bread?"

Alfie nodded and reached for the bread and butter and a knife while I began to fry two eggs.

Just as I was finishing with them, a loud slam came from beside me and I burnt my finger on the pan. A searing hot pain spread throughout me and I hissed, looking to where Alfie had slammed his fist in the countertop.

"Ow," I mumbled.

Alfie's head shot up, his eyes laced with worry. "What's wrong?"

"Burnt my finger," I replied, examining the redness on the tip of my index finger.

Alfie rushed behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding my finger taut as he rushed me towards the sink. Using the other hand, he turned on the sink and then held my finger under the cool water.

I put my head back and rested it on Alfie's shoulder so I could look at him. "What's wrong, Alf?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, staring at my finger.

"Don't lie to me, Alfie. You wouldn't have done that for nothing."

Alfie sighed. "I just wish I could do these mundane things with you forever; make eggs, tidy the house, things like that."

I wrinkled my forehead up. "What? You might still be able to, Alf. The tests haven't come back yet. Have hope."

Alfie sighed, and I could see now that his eyes were glistening with tears. He spun me around so I was facing him, my breath catching in my throat.

"Zoe, please. I don't want you to worry about me. I wasn't even going to tell you this."

I was preparing myself for the worst as I took his hands and placed it on my chest, under my own. I felt them shake nervously. "Alfie, I promise. Now please, just tell me."

Alfie sighed, and I could see his whole body shaking. "I. . . didn't want to tell you this. I didn't w-want you to give up hope, b-but. . . Zoe, the cancer is terminal. There's nothing they can do about it."

In that moment, my whole world came crumbling down around me. All the visions inside my head crumbled to dust, the ones of Alfie and I on our wedding day, or the day when we finally get to hold our baby in our arms. None of these things were ever going to happen.

Alfie was dying, and I'd have to learn to live without him.

And that - that terrified me more than anything had ever terrified me before.

I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was a strangled sob as I collapsed into Alfie's strong arms. My heart raced at a hundred miles per hour, my body distributing sweat and the room distorting and closing in on me. I thought I was going to die. I clawed at Alfie's shirt to tell that everything wasn't fine - quite the opposite actually - and he immediately lowered me to the ground, crouching in front of me, his own eyes glistening with tears.

My heart physically hurt as my breathing began to speed up.

"Okay, Zoe. Breath. Breath in, and out, and in, and out. That's it, Petal. Come on, you got this." Alfie cooed. "It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay."

But I wasn't.

I knew, deep in my heart, that I would never, not ever, be okay again.

Not without him. Not without Alfie.