When Autumn Leaves: A Novel (22 page)

The cancer moved brilliantly, like a dictator or false prophet, manipulating the cells around it into submission. For the longest time, Piper had no awareness of it other than the pain and the nausea from the medication. But gradually, she began to forget little things. What day it was, what month it was, who that actress was on the TV. Piper knew where it was headed, that it would take everything from her. Just when she needed her memories the most, needed to recall the times when all was good and right, they would not be there.

She spent hours thinking, understanding that time was now a wild thing, untamable, and that soon her mind would be gone. She lacked the physical strength to really do anything remarkable. She would never climb Everest or build schools in Africa. Not that she really would have anyway, even if she hadn’t been sick, but still.

Now all she could really do was think and write. She had been keeping a series of journals and sketches for almost twenty years; they would be her legacy to the girls. She tried to write down every lesson she had learned through her years as a woman, a wife, a mother, a writer, an artist, and a citizen, not only of Avening, but of the world. Piper knew that they would not listen, that they had to make their own mistakes, but at least there would be proof that they could recover from every bad decision.

After one particularly long session of self-examination, she sat down at the kitchen table and saw that Will was preparing dinner.

“You know . . .” Piper began.

“What?” Will said as he put a pot of water on to boil.

“I’m not going to die here.”

Will sighed loudly and sat down to face her at the table. Piper knew that Will loved her. She knew that he would probably never stop loving her. But her illness had created a divide, as illness does so often. She moved ever closer to the edge of the cliff, and he was miles away where it was safe. He felt guilty about that, the fact was he could not control what was happening, though she told him it was silly and useless and to knock it off. The truth, that he could not save her, had changed him. He was a very unhappy man. Piper tried not to think too hard about that. The list was too long already of things her body had to atone for.

Will looked at her stonily. “I thought you said that you didn’t want to be in a hospital. Remember, honey? This is your turf, your territory. You thought it would be harder for death to get you here. Why make it easy for him, right?” Will wasn’t exactly trying to make a joke, just trying to diffuse the situation a little.

“That’s true. But this is your home, too. I don’t think it will be easy for you all to continue living here if I die here,” Piper said as she looked out the window above the sink.

“So you want to go to the hospital when it’s time?”

“Nope.”

“No games, Piper, all right? This is hard enough.”

Piper picked invisible lint off her sweater. She hated this conversation, and Will was so stubborn, she wondered why she was trying at all. But still she had to try, to explain. She took a deep breath and looked at him steadily. “What I’m trying to say is that one day, I’ll just be gone. I’ll find a way to get to the water and I’ll let it take me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Piper. You know as well as I do that when it gets that close to the end you won’t be able to move, let alone . . .” Will sighed. “Let’s be realistic, for the girls, okay? While you’re . . . you know, still yourself, you have to try and be practical for the girls’ sake.”

“I am being practical, Will,” Piper said stubbornly. “I don’t want them to see what the end of this is like. They’re terrified enough as it is.” Piper crossed and uncrossed her arms, looking at her husband defiantly. “I might not have any say over my body right now, but I do have a right to die with dignity.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to beg her not to do it or help her with a plan.

Will put his hands over Piper’s own. “So you’re . . . going to kill yourself?” he whispered.

“Technically, I’m already killing myself, Will.” She was trying to sound light but she heard her voice catch. “I’m talking about choice, about choosing, about for once being in control of this fucking thing.”

Will let go of her hand. He looked at her as if to argue, but then rose from his chair. “I don’t even know what to say to that,” he said. He backed out of the door into the living room, leaving Piper alone in her kitchen. Her dream kitchen, which they had redone three years earlier. The hard lines of the stainless steel glinted in the sun. Three years ago this space had been so important to her; now it was just another room. Piper sighed as she pulled herself to her feet. She missed loving the kitchen, but she was glad in a way that she had detached herself. It was one less thing to miss when it was time to go.

From some lost corridor of strength in the maze of her body, Piper had committed to ending her own life. This took far more courage than she ever thought would be necessary. She had thought that in general people who committed suicide were cowardly. Now she understood that they were very brave indeed. The revelation didn’t stop her from being angry at those healthy men and women who offered up their lives when people like her would have done anything to trade places with them. It was a grudging respect, she supposed.

A plan began to form in her mind, but she no longer really trusted her own mind. She needed advice, and of all her friends, there was only one person to ask who she thought had the right perspective to give it.

Piper no longer used her car. Luckily, Demeter’s Grove was only a few blocks from her house. If she walked slowly, and rested frequently, she could make it without asking Will or Sylvie to drive her. After half an hour, she slowly climbed the steps to Autumn’s shop.

Autumn steeled herself when Piper walked in. Piper, so strong and indomitable, threw off her own kind of energy. At this point, her energy was mostly despair, with a drop of false hope.

This too was part of Autumn’s job, facilitating the passage of Transcending. Her faith was so strong that Autumn actually felt good, or at least useful, about helping people die. It sounded strange, even to her, but true nonetheless. But Piper Shigeru was different. It felt all wrong, from the inside out. She had tried (without Piper’s knowledge) to do some mending. It was no use. For some reason known only to God, Piper’s body was desperate to let go. Autumn could do nothing but wait and help and talk and soothe.

“Hello, Piper dear,” Autumn called as the doorbells jangled. “Listen, it’s very busy in here today. Why don’t you go outside to the back porch? There is a lovely big comfy chair out there and I’ll make some tea and we can have a chat, all right?”

Piper nodded, looking relieved. The people, the looks, the staring, would clearly tax her; she could do without. Autumn led her to the door, sat her down, and left her to make the tea.

Piper leaned back, falling into the softness of the chair. The day was so beautiful, very warm, but not hot at all for July. Autumn’s English garden was like a storybook painting. Piper closed her eyes, listening to summer’s long-bodied insects call out to one another and the birds drifting from branch to branch like kids playing tag. She took a deep breath in. Suddenly she felt as if something had shifted. It was a little like being dizzy, but not quite, and there was a new smell, rich and earthy.

Piper’s eyes flew open. She was no longer in Autumn’s yard; she was in the middle of a forest. Not just in a clearing, but deep in the heart of a thick and vast forest. Her mouth grew dry and she opened it, although why, she didn’t know. Possibly to speak, but it seemed more likely that it was so she’d remember to breathe. And then just like that, the scenery turned itself over, like a stadium full of people who hold up cards to create a word or a picture, a change that shuttered over her. The forest was gone and she was back on Autumn’s porch.

Piper gripped the seat. What had happened? But she knew. She knew. She was losing it. Her friggin’ mind wouldn’t even stay in the same place as she was. That was unexpected. Her first instinct was to let out a string of curse words. But then she stopped and noticed her body. She didn’t feel any pain, she didn’t feel tired. In fact, she felt strong. Like she could jump up out of that chair and actually do something.

Autumn startled Piper when she came back out to the deck. “Sorry about that, took a little longer than I expected. Seems like everyone wants to talk today . . . Piper? What happened?” Autumn noticed the change in the air, a crackling of energy, like the opening of a gate. She thought for a brief moment one of her Sisters had been there, a Mend Sister, perhaps. But no, that wasn’t it. Piper’s energy shimmered, like little golden stars cascading around her. A gate had been opened, but not by any of Autumn’s lot.

“How long have I been out here?” Piper asked excitedly.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes.” Autumn sat down beside Piper, putting a warm cup of tea in her hands. “Why? Did it feel longer or shorter than that?”

“Shorter, much shorter . . . I went somewhere. A forest? I swear to God, it felt like I was somewhere else, really. It sounds crazy. I dunno,” Piper babbled happily. “Maybe it’s a symptom, but it didn’t feel like that, it felt so real.”