Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller (9 page)

I can’t repeat what I said, because
what started as an effort to remember became an exercise in
forgetting. I’d start telling Nathan about one memory, then realise
that the memory was too painful to focus on or, with increasing
frequency, too graphic for me to burden Nathan with. I used vague
words and half-finished sentences to describe the very clear
nightmares in my head.

Every time I returned to that Word
document to add to the record of my memories, I shuddered at the
memory of that first session, when I had to describe the PG version
of the horrors aloud to Nathan. He typed it all in, his expression
holding pity, sadness, desperation and furious resolve, as my
memories subjected me to the R-rated version that could never be
censored in my head.

What would Nathan do if I told him
the uncensored version in all its detail?
I wondered every time
I remembered his reaction to the little I told him that day.

I lost track of time, but I kept going
until the horrible memories wouldn’t go away, with my eyes open or
closed. I tried to shut them out, but even that failed.

Nathan wrapped his arms around me in an
attempt at comfort. Instead it felt like a reminder of help, which
when it came was too little, too late. His pity only made it
worse.

I pushed away from him and lay down on
the crisp white sheets, not looking at him because I knew if I
apologised for my rudeness I’d cry again.

When Nathan suggested he leave for a
bit, I panicked. The thought of being alone with my memories was
terrifying. Especially if his alone time brought him to the
realisation that he couldn't handle this any more. I need him to
come back.

He must have seen it mirrored in my
eyes, our mutual desire to escape from my memories. He was already
up and poised for flight. After a slight hesitation, he invited me
to the coffee shop downstairs for cake.

I felt wrung out like a dishcloth that
had been used on one too many dirty pots. Yet even the thought of
caffeine and sugar had me sitting up again, seriously considering
his half-hearted offer.

I opened my mouth to accept, but he
pulled his shirt over his head.
Oh.

Beneath his loose-fitting shirt, Nathan
had been hiding more than just his injuries. I wondered how many
hours he spent in the gym to maintain those muscles. Looking at his
biceps, I could see how he managed to lift me so effortlessly. The
dressing was gone from his shoulder, but an angry patch of red
remained. What I'd thought to be a mortal injury had only been a
bad graze. There'd only been a lot of blood because of the amount
of skin scraped off by the bullet as it sped past him.
Damage he
sustained while trying to help me
, I reminded myself. It could
have killed him and then I'd have been here, alone and helpless
and…

I felt a sob rise in my throat and
choked it down.

Nathan must have heard me, for he
turned toward me, looking concerned as he touched my arm lightly.
He extended his other hand toward me, too, the shirt still hanging
from his fingers.

Chris, offering me his sweater to cover
my nakedness. Kindness in the dark…

The memory came without warning and I
curled up in horror, trying to fight the dark dream in my head. The
day they took my clothes.

I mumbled some reply to Nathan’s
worried question about my wellbeing, struggling to stay out of the
memory. I bit back a scream.

I was so preoccupied I never heard him
leave the room. Before I realised it, I was alone with Judith
holding the sort of hospital uniform the surgeons wore, a grumpy
look on her face. It dawned on me slowly that I wasn’t going to
wear my backless nightgown in public, something I hadn’t thought
about. I was relieved, before I’d had a chance to worry.

Judith’s grumpy because she doesn’t
like Nathan,
I realised as she started speaking, her hissed
whisper trying hard not to be heard. "He never leaves. The whole
time you were unconscious, he barely left the room. He just kept
talking to you. It didn’t stop him trying to chat up the nurses,
though, sleazy bastard. He sat in the chair by your bed and
wouldn’t leave, even when I was changing your dressings." She slid
my hospital gown down and pulled the surgeon’s top over my
head.

My voice was muffled by the dark blue
cotton. "Really? Why? Did he say?"
What did he do to make you
dislike him so much?

"He said he’d promised you something
and he wasn’t letting you out of his sight." She snorted as she
helped me to pull on the pants. She evidently didn’t believe
it.

Wow. He really did keep his
promise
.
I still owed him for a lot.
"Then I should
thank him, when he gets back." My voice was fainter than I wanted
it to be.

"No!" She was vehement. She picked up
my hairbrush and set to work on my hair. "Don’t trust him. The way
he looked at you...When I changed your dressings, the way he just
stared
at you, without any emotion at all. He didn’t look
angry or upset or even interested, like he cared that you’d been
hurt. It wasn’t normal." She cleared her throat. "We’ve all been
really hoping you’d recover, with all you’ve been through. All the
staff on the ward, I mean, and in the ED. We don’t want your
boyfriend making life difficult for you, when you’ve been through
enough." Her expression held dire consequences for Nathan.

I was at a loss for words. Hadn’t I
already noticed that Nathan’s treatment of me was far more clinical
than the brand of charm he used on the nurses? Of course his
behaviour would seem strange, if they thought he was my boyfriend.
"He does care that I’ve been hurt. It’s...complicated." I tried to
be honest, which also meant incredibly vague.

"If you don’t want him here, all you
have to do is say and he’ll be thrown out of the hospital. He won’t
be allowed back in." She smacked the brush down hard on the bedside
table. She looked and sounded like she’d like to do something
similar to Nathan.

I was touched that the hospital staff
would be so kind to me, especially as I still flinched when they
actually, physically touched me. "He’s only here because I want him
to be," I told her carefully. "If I didn’t want him here, I’m sure
he’d go home without you all needing to go that far." I paused,
registering her disappointment at not getting to evict Nathan. "But
it’s wonderful to know that if I needed help, you’d do that for me.
Thank you."

We both saw Nathan coming up the
corridor and she left the room quickly, not saying another word,
though she definitely looked daggers at him.

Part 28

Nathan looked hesitant as he came back
in, but he didn’t back out. He took me downstairs and made sure I
was seated at a table in the coffee shop, before asking what sort
of coffee I liked.

Rather than betray my limited knowledge
of coffee, I asked him for a cappuccino. I could count on one hand
the times I’d asked someone else to make me a coffee. To me, coffee
meant whatever instant blend was available, mixed with enough sugar
and milk to help me choke the bitter brew down.

He didn’t ask me about cake and I
wondered if he’d forgotten about it.
Or is he one of those
domineering men who orders for you because he feels girls are too
helpless to make their own decisions?
I was betting on the
first option.

I looked around. The cafe was perhaps a
third full. I wasn’t the only patient there, though I was probably
the only patient who wasn’t wearing pyjamas. There were a few
people in the same scrubs I wore, but their name badges identified
them as staff who were supposed to wear them. I couldn’t suppress a
sigh and looked away.

I’ll get there,
I told myself.
I’ll go back to uni and one day I’ll get there. All I have to do
is recover so I can.

I closed my eyes and listened to the
music over the speakers. It was an old song, something cheerful. I
tried to remember the words, but the sound of the coffee machine
hissing drowned out the music.

I looked over at the counter. It was
Nathan’s turn.

He ordered and paid for something, then
came and sat across from me, empty handed and smiling nervously.
"They’ll make the coffee and bring them out together."

"So, what kind of cake did you get?" I
asked brightly.

He looked rueful. "I don’t know."

Puzzled, I opened my mouth to ask a
question that began with
how
...

He cut me off. "I didn’t know what you
wanted, so I got a bit of everything. There wasn’t much to choose
from." He looked apologetic.

Right on cue, a waitress came with a
fully loaded tray and started putting plates down on our table.
Some kind of cheesecake, something that looked like an overgrown
chocolate brownie, some sort of tart that was covered in
strawberries... and two frothy cups of coffee.

"Decaf cappuccino?" she asked, waving
the hot drink dangerously close to me.

"Mine," Nathan said quietly, indicating
the space on the table in front of him.

Decaf? You don’t want any caffeine?
Odd,
I thought, avoiding looking at the diabetic coma waiting
to happen, spread across the remainder of the table.

I looked down at the coffee the
waitress set in front of me, trying to work out how best to drink
it. Maybe if I turned it this way, I could get both hands around
it. If I was careful, I might be able to do it, but I’d get froth
on my face...

Nathan unwrapped a straw and stuck it
in my coffee.

I looked at him. He just smiled and
picked up a cake fork. "So, which one would you like first?"

I reached for the plate with the
strawberries at the same time he did. I expected a fight, but he
held the edge of the plate with one hand and sliced a bite off the
cake with the other.

My heart sank. I couldn’t handle a cake
fork yet.

Nathan hadn’t missed my expression. He
held the fork out to me, cake first. Like that first bite of egg, I
took it.

"Is it good?" he asked, taking the fork
to the cake again.

"Yeah," I admitted, my mouth full. I
tried to cover it with a bandaged hand.

He popped the next bite in his own
mouth. "You’re right," he agreed.

He set the fork on the table, the tines
resting on the edge of his saucer. Picking up a clean fork, he
loaded up another bite. "More?" he asked with a smile.

He waited until my mouth was full
before he asked. "So, when you were sitting here with your eyes
closed and your mouth open, what were you thinking about?"

He was watching me
, I realised.
I waited until I’d swallowed before I spoke again. "The music
playing on the radio," I told him.

He looked surprised for a moment, then
sat, listening.

I did, too. The song had changed – now
it was some perky boy band and the song involved frequent use of
the word beautiful. My memory stirred faintly. It had been a long
time since I’d heard any music. Something called One Direction?

Nathan asked me if I knew the song, a
kind smile on his face.

This isn’t my style of music and
you’re not going to stereotype me that easily,
I thought
furiously. "No," I lied smoothly.

His teeth ticking against the tines,
Nathan swallowed another bite of cake. "So, what sort of music do
you like?"

Mine,
I thought but didn’t
say
. I like the music that comes into my head and feels so great
when I get to play it...but it’s been a long time since I’ve heard
any music and it’ll be a while until I can play again...but I will!
I will!

I tried to gather my drifting thoughts.
"I like Powderfinger," I offered.

He smiled. "Me, too. Baby I’ve got you
on my mind."

I froze at what sounded like a bad pick
up line, staring at him.

His eyes widened as he realised what
he’d said. "That’s my favourite one of their songs.
Baby I’ve
got you on my mind
. What’s your favourite?"

"
Burn your name
," I said
immediately.
Because it’s the most fun to perform...

He looked confused. "I’m not sure I
know that one."

I replied, without thinking, "It was
one of the last ones they released. The one that goes:

"Gonna burn your name right across the
sky

So I never forget what the feeling’s
like
..." I clamped my mouth shut before I went any further.
People were starting to stare at me.

Oh hell. The pain medication must be
messing with my head. I just started singing in a cafe full of
people...

Even Nathan stared at me. "You sing
really well," he managed to say.

"Thanks," I replied, as politely as I
could. "Your turn. What music do you like?"

"Um, my favourite band at the moment is
Evanescence." He sounded hesitant.

"They’re good, but very dark," I
replied, closing my eyes. "I think if I was dying, I would want the
last song I heard to be one of theirs. If I were to commit suicide,
I would definitely be playing one of their albums."

I opened my eyes to find Nathan staring
at me again, more worried than ever.
What did I say?
I
thought a moment.
Oh shit. Pain drugs are definitely messing
with my head and my inhibitions.

"But I wouldn’t say they’re my
favourite," I finished lamely.

He grabbed my hands and held them on
the table, looking into my eyes with a fierce intensity. "Why would
you say that?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with horror.

I tried to sound dismissive. "I studied
music at school and there was a section on music in soundtracks. We
had to assign songs to specific scripts. My group got some action
movie where the hero sacrifices himself at the end and we picked an
Evanescence song for the death scene." I shrugged. "The teacher
didn’t like ours much. The group that got the best mark picked
Bohemian Rhapsody
."