TURBINE | KAPOHAU

After my husband shakes the young oncologist’s hand and says he hopes he has a marvellous career ahead of him, he’s doing pretty well so far and after I tug him, laughing down the long green corridor and out into the bright world my husband punches his fist in the air and I say, now everything will be alright, now you have a long life ahead of you, and after we walk through the park kicking at the autumn leaves my husband grows quiet and I say, what? and he turns to me with a long face and says, hmm and I take his hand and say well then and he says I expect so and I say I think you’re right and this goes on, our way of talking when we can’t be bothered with real talking and then his fingers grip mine and he says, no party, I don’t want a party and I say huh? and he says I’m not ready and I say did you not hear what the doctor said? and we stop and stare at a small boy in a red cap on his little trike and then we stare at the white geese on the lake, there’s already too many and the males are fighting and fouling up the water and I drop his hand and say, well ? and then he says, and his voice is full of the wonder of it, that he’s lost his status, lost his status as a dying man and I try not to laugh but as we keep walking the path stretches longer and longer ahead and as dusk settles over the trees we walk faster, dark birds wheel overhead and still our home recedes further and further in the distance, not even a telescope could pick up the tiny dot.