A Story of Now (22 page)

She trudges the long passage, keeping to the sides, out of the way of the busy staff moving between rooms. There’s still an hour and a half until afternoon visiting hours, so she decides to go to what she thinks of as her personal corner of the hospital, a little bank of seats tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall.

She usually has it to herself. There aren’t many people around the ward at this time. Most people come during evening visiting hours and then leave. There are only a few who, like her, are left with the sole responsibility of care for someone, or cannot bring themselves to leave until they know everything is going to be okay.

As usual, it’s empty. She sits cross-legged on a seat and pulls out her French text. She opens her book, ready to re-read a chapter, but zones out instead. She stares at the wall opposite with its colourful but depressing posters about health care and skin cancer checks and yawns heavily. Her exhaustion feels like something heavy chained to her, and it pulls her slowly but interminably downward. It makes sitting upright feel impossible. She shuts her eyes slowly and slumps in her seat.

“Hey.”

Claire jumps and opens her eyes, blinking into the fluorescent light. It’s Mia. She stands in front of Claire, her sunglasses still perched on her head, and smiles at her.

“Uh…hey.” Claire blinks harder and once again wonders if she’s seeing things. “What are you doing back here?”

Mia drops into the seat next to her. “I don’t know. I thought I’d wait here with you for a bit, at least until you’re allowed to see him. It must be kind of horrible hanging out here by yourself.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t mind.” Mia puts her bag on the seat next to her as if she is here to stay.

“I’m fine, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you are,” Mia says in that knowing way she has and settles into her seat. She removes an elastic from her wrist and ties her hair into a ponytail.

“Why would anyone want to sit in a hospital if they don’t have to?” Claire frowns.

“Well, I’m thinking of studying medicine, remember?” Mia threads the elastic one more time around her thick hair. “Might as well get used to it.”

“True.” Claire still feels compelled to act nonchalant about Mia’s re-appearance, but already her presence feels like a salve.

Mia smiles at Claire. She’s developed a handful of freckles in this sunny weather, a smattering of brown spots across her nose and cheeks. It suits her. “And you don’t have to talk or anything. I know you’re really tired.”

“I am.”

“Have you been able to sleep?”

“Not really,” Claire admits. “I can’t.”

Mia nods, reaches into her bag, and pulls out a huge textbook. “Rest if you want. I’ve got plenty to keep me entertained.” She lifts up the book. “Exams are horrifyingly close.”

Claire nods. It’s difficult to believe she’s missed the last week of classes and that it’s nearly study break already. She’s been studying as hard as she can when Cam is asleep or between visiting hours. She knows she’ll pass. But she’s also prepared for the fact she might not do too great. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t care.

Mia flicks open her book, pulls out a notepad, and rests it on her knee. She replaces her sunglasses with her reading glasses and busies herself with work.

Claire immediately relaxes, glad Mia doesn’t expect her to talk. Claire has nothing to say, nothing to tell anyone that isn’t about hospitals and wounds and trauma. She rests her head against the wall and shuts her eyes glad of the simple solace of having someone beside her. The last few days, although surrounded by people, have been a lonely experience.

In fact, the whole week has been an exercise in trying to hold it together. Now she actually feels as though she might be able to breathe a little, to let go. She takes in a long, deep breath and lets it out in an unexpectedly shaky sigh.

“You okay?” Mia’s voice is quiet.

Claire nods. Suddenly scared she is going to cry, she keeps her eyes jammed shut and purses her lips. Mia doesn’t say anything, but Claire can feel her gaze. She takes another deep breath, holds it in, and tries to stem the tears. She feels fingers slide over her own and take a light hold of her hand. Warmth spreads through her body at the sympathy contained in this touch, at the comfort of being with someone who knows she’s maybe only dancing around the edges of being okay. For that, she’s incredibly grateful. She gently squeezes Mia’s hand, her way of saying thank you. And Mia’s only response is to simply hold on a little tighter.

After a few peaceful minutes of sitting there, eyes closed to the inexorable, quiet hospital scurry, tethered to the island of sanity that is Mia, Claire turns and looks at her. Her friend’s free hand is busily at work. It flits briskly between writing copious notes and turning the pages of her book. Claire smiles. She could probably use her hand back, but Claire’s not willing to return it. It’s keeping her sustained right now. She looks down at their hands, at Mia’s long brown fingers and neatly manicured fingernails, a stark contrast to Claire’s chipped blue polish and chewed-down nails. She exhales another long sigh and rests her head back against the wall.

“Claire?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you lie down?”

She opens her eyes and turns her head.

Mia gestures at the bank of seats. “I’ll stay with you, and if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when it’s time to see Cam.”

Claire starts to shake her head, but then gives in. All she wants, all she needs, is to shut her eyes for a while. “Do you promise you’ll wake me? At three?”

“I’ll wake you.” Mia squeezes her hand again, her brown eyes insistent. “I promise.”

Claire gives in. She has to. “Okay.” She releases Mia’s hand, kicks off her boots, and eases herself down across the chairs.

“Here.” Mia reaches into her bag, pulls out a sweater, and folds it up. She passes it to Claire. “Pillow.”

“Thanks.” Claire gratefully takes the proffered sweater. She lays it on the chair next to Mia’s leg and lowers her head onto her makeshift pillow. She shuts her eyes and breathes in the comforting, clean scent of washed clothes and something else fresh and light—a smell she’s already come to associate with Mia. She tucks her hands under her chin and shuts her eyes, safe to let go of consciousness for a while.

CHAPTER 29

Claire puts her French textbook in her bag and looks over at her brother and smiles.

Today is nearly a good day. Last night Cam’s new doctor said if his scans are okay, they’ll move Cam to a regular ward tomorrow. That feels like a step closer to Cam being okay again. With that small but precious nugget of good news in her pocket, Claire is able to go home and relax a little.

Today she feels just a little bit human again. As she leaves his room she doesn’t say goodbye. Cam is already two-thirds of his way back to sleep, to the place where his body and brain spend most of their time, busy with the steady work of returning him to health.

As she’s making her way down the hall, her phone vibrates in her pocket. She sighs and pulls it out, expecting her mother for what will be the third time today.

It’s not. It’s Robbie. “Hey, where are you?” he asks the moment she picks up.

“At the hospital. Where else?”

“Good. I’m out the front, near emergency. Come out.”

And before she can ask what he’s doing there, he hangs up, and she heads for the front entrance.

As soon as she hits the outside air, she zips up her jacket all the way to the top. In the spirit of the tempestuous Melbourne springtime, the sun is out, but the wind is whippy and biting, a stark contrast to the caressing warmth of that dream weather when her friends came to visit.

Robbie sits on a bench near the entrance, his camera in one hand and his backpack next to him. An obviously handpicked—or hand-thieved—bunch of flowers hang out of the opening, drooping already. He grins when he sees her and stands.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’ve come to take you to lunch.” He loops his arm through hers. “It’s Sunday.”

“So?”

“So Sunday is the time for Sunday lunch, Claire. Get with the program.”

“Uh, okay then.” She figures it’s easier not to question it, not when Robbie is being so willfully cryptic. They walk off the hospital grounds and down the street. The late-morning traffic hums around them.

He pulls out his phone. “Actually, it’s a little early. Let’s get a coffee first.” He makes a quick turn for the crossing. “How’s your brother?”

“Better.”

“Hey, that’s really good.” He gives a little skip and squeezes her arm.

“It is. And they say he’s really lucky, that so far there doesn’t seem to be any real permanent damage, except he might have lifelong trouble with back pain and a slightly screwy kidney.”

He laughs. “That’s the medical term, right?” He leads her around a corner to a little café Claire never noticed before. He shoves open the door, and she follows him into the tiny, cosy space fragrant with coffee and baked bread. They find a table, order coffees, and sit.

“What have you been doing?” Claire asks him, so ready to hear anything about the world outside the hospital.

“Freaking out.”

“What about?”

“School. Everything. I have to write a stupid essay, and I am terrible at writing essays.” He rolls his eyes and sips tentatively at his coffee. “It’s, like, I know how I feel about certain ideas, certain art, and I am completely confident in my opinions, but I’m no good at organising it into words on a page in that way they want you to structure them. It just ends up being one big tangle, if you know what I mean.”

Claire nods. She doesn’t have that problem, though. Essays come easy for her. It’s just working to a formula. “You know, I’m actually okay at them. I could look at it for you, if you want?” She offers it shyly. She never imagined she could help Robbie with anything. “It might help.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shakes his head and waves the idea away. “You have enough to worry about.”

“No, seriously,” she insists. “I don’t know how much help I can be, but I kinda have a lot of time on my hands. I am actually starting to wish my brother would sleep less and talk to me. And, believe me, that’s
not
a feeling I’ve had often in my life.”

He cackles. “I might take you up on it.” He grabs her wrist and squeezes it. “Thank you,” he says, serious for a moment.

She gives him a sly smile. “But just so you know, Robbie, there’s only so much I can do to polish a turd.”

“Oh shut up. I’m not that bad!” He lets go of her wrist and slaps it instead.

“I know. I’m joking. What else can I help you with?”

“Can you prescribe anxiety medication?”

“You might need Mia for that. Why?”

“I’m just freaking out about the end-of-year show too,” he confesses. “And about the feedback, which is—”

“But everyone loved the last exhibition.”

“Oh, no, not that kind of feedback.” Robbie shakes his head. “That’d be okay. I mean the formal feedback we get from our professors. They examine our final project, the stuff we put in our show.”

“Oh, scary.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But your stuff is kind of amazing. They’ll love it.”

“Maybe. I’m scared about this bunch of photos. They are some I took the last time I went home, of my family, and they’re, I don’t know, they’re…” He trails off as if he never knew where that sentence was going in the first place.

Claire frowns. “Where is your family?” She realises she knows nothing about them. “In Melbourne?”

He shakes his head. “I grew up outside Geelong.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“One of each, but they’re ten and twelve years older than me.”

“Wow.” Claire raises her eyebrows. “How’d that happen?”

“I was kind of an accident. I don’t think my parents were too impressed, really, having another kid in their forties.” He smiles ruefully. “And they were especially not that impressed when he turned out to be gay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They didn’t kick me out onto the streets or anything dramatic like that. But they do refuse to acknowledge it.”

“Like, they don’t mention it at all?”

He nods. “Just like that. They’re kind of religious. And they just don’t get it. Or me. And they don’t get the photography thing. Neither do my brother and sister. One works in a bank, and the other is a medical receptionist. They’re so completely uninterested in anything other than their kids and their jobs and their mortgages. So they ignore everything about me that they don’t get. Which is pretty much everything.” He shakes his head. “I never, ever want to be like that.”

“Me either.” She gives him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry your family is a bunch of jerks.”

He grins back at her. “Thanks. I’m luckier than some. You know, Eli said his ex-boyfriend’s parents actually kicked him out when he came out. I didn’t even know that still happened to people.”

“Wow.” Claire shakes her head. She’d have to do something pretty awful for her parents to kick her out.

Robbie sits up. “We better get going or we’ll be late.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already halfway out the door.

They leave the café, continue up the road, and turn down another side street, a narrower, tree-lined strip of old apartment blocks.

“Where exactly are we going for lunch?” Claire asks. They seem to be walking further away from cafés and deeper into pure neighbourhood.

“Mia’s.” Robbie strides up to a red-brick apartment block.

“What, like, Mia’s house?” Claire asks, hurrying to catch up with him.

She hasn’t seen Mia today, but for the last few days since they all came to visit, she’s been coming to the hospital to keep Claire company when she can’t be with Cam. Sometimes they studied in the cafeteria or walked over to the park to sit in the sun. Sometimes they just sat in the waiting room and talked or not talked, and it’s felt like a reprieve. Mia made the days pass faster and Claire feel less lonely.

“Yup.” He leads her up a flight of steps. When they reach the top, he pulls the flowers out of his bag, a ragtag, but charming, bunch of clashing colours and wide green leaves. He raps loudly on a door. “Mia’s house.”