Still Human (Just Human) (3 page)

He looks at me and winces. “I saw you fall. I shouldn’t have been on the fucking phone.”

“Oh stop it. It was an accident.” He nods and eyes me up and down.

“So what’s going on?” he asks.

“I don’t know. They’re looking at the x-rays I suppose.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like an idiot.” I laugh and fidget, sending a twinge of pain through my foot.

“Shit, what is it?” Max jumps to his feet.

“Laughing made my ankle hurt!” I whimper. Max gives me a stern look as if now is not the time to be laughing anyway, which only makes it worse. Maybe it's the drugs.

As I’m calming down, a doctor appears around the curtain and introduces himself as Dr. Andrews from orthopaedics or something.

“I understand you took a tumble.” He jokes, trying to put me at ease.

“It was a ten-foot ladder,” Max says, not rising to the humour. “She fell from the top.” Max is very dry and serious. This familiarity of my friend’s anxiety puts me at ease more than the corny line from the doctor could have ever hoped to.

“Well, then I’d say you have been very lucky.” He
smiles. “You’ll probably be quite bruised tomorrow and we’ll have to stitch that cut on your head.” He pauses. “But I’m afraid you have a significant fracture to your ankle which will require surgery.”

I look at him while I take it in. "My ankle doesn't even feel that bad
," I muse aloud.

"Well you have a trimalleolar fracture, which is complex. But we have it nicely immobilised and we are managing your pain, so you should have a comfortable night."

"You can't do it until tomorrow?" Max asks, incredulously. It’s about 6pm, what does he expect?

"That's correct
," the doctor replies.

We discuss what I'll be having done tomorrow, which involves screws and possibly a plate, but won
’t be decided until I'm in surgery. Then he briefs me on the recovery I'm facing. Six weeks in plaster and a possible second surgery. It sounds pretty rough, but he has advised me to take it one day at a time, rather than as a whole, scary picture. I get emotional when I realise that I’m going to be dependent on Max and I don’t have Danny for support. The doctor mistakes this for nerves about the operation and assures me that this is just another day at the office for him; he sees this type of injury all the time. Then he leaves us and we wait for a nurse to come and stitch my head.

Twelve stitches later, I
’m moved to a ward. Max leaves to go and get me some things from home and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I’m trying not to panic about how out of action I’m going to be and how we will manage at work. I’m in quite a lot of pain and I just wish I had Danny here. God, this has really been the worst week of my life.

It suddenly occurs to me that someone might tell Danny! I must tell Max that I don’t want Danny to know this has happened. He might come rushing over and I’m not strong enough to push him away right now. Or worse, he won’t come and I can’t handle that kind of disappointment. Why did I get so caught up in all of his? It was never going to work out. I fight back tears, I can’t cry now, not here. I feel so sorry for myself. Being alone is not good for me. I
’m thankful that Max has got me a card for the TV and phone and pulled it over next to my bed, I put some nonsense on and drift off to a medicated sleep.

Pain and whispering wake me sometime later and I open my eyes to find Connie and Max bickering at the end of my bed.

“What’s up?” I ask
, sleepily, instinctively stretching as my body wakes up and then recoiling in pain as I’m reminded that today has not been the best of days.

“Liv, darling, what have you done to yourself?” Connie gushes as she hurries around to my side. She takes my hand and finds a small un-bandaged part of my forehead and strokes it. “Look at the state you’re in.”

“I’m okay, what’s with all the whispering?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing
,” she says, innocently. “Max forgot to bring your dressing gown.” I don’t have the energy to probe any deeper.

“How are you doing?” Max asks, coming to the other side of me.

“Alright,” I say half-heartedly. “What did you bring me?”

“I got you some clothes, some magazines and your old iPod, because I’m guessing you still don’t want your phone.”

“No.” I sulk.

I realised Max fished my phone out of the bin after I chucked it away
, because I went back to rescue it myself a little later and it was gone. I know it was rash throwing it in the bin, but I’m still not ready to look at it yet.

“Ok
ay, well good job I found this for you then.” Max places the iPod and headphones on the bed next to me.

"Now
, what time are they doing your surgery tomorrow?" Connie asks.

"Early, I think." I reply, a bit hazy from the drugs. "Nine-something."

"I'll need to let your mum know," she says.

"Shit, Mum...Don't tell her, she'll worry and leave Grace, this is their time." That would be all I need right now, Mum staying with me while I'm housebound.

"She already knows," says Max guiltily. "I rang her...but it's okay. We convinced her to stay put for now."

I give him a look. "For now?" That's not reassuring. "I'll talk to her in the morning, tell her you made the whole thing up." I
giggle. Then my smile fades, "Oh and Max. I know none of you would talk to him, but under no circumstances is Danny to know about this."

As I finish the sentence, I catch a look flit between
them. What does that mean? They wouldn’t…I dismiss the thought, they just wouldn’t.

"Everything is fine at work by the way." Max jumps in, changing the subject. "Josh called everyone to tell them what happened and
, between them, they’ve rearranged everything so that you and I are not needed at all. They all send their love.” He squeezes my hand.

"Well you tell them I love them too." I say, feeling overwhelmed.

"Oh and they've finished the lights."

"Finished them?"

"Yep." Max nods, amused. "The day shift stayed behind for an hour and did it between them. There was plenty of ladder-holding!" He laughs, then his smile vanishes. "I'm so sorry I was on the phone." He whispers, glancing again at Connie. What is going on between these two?

I'm just about to ask, when the nurse comes round with my medication. Seizing their moment to escape, Max and Connie arrange that Max will come back in the morning and wait while I
’m in surgery and Connie will get everything ready for me at home...Then they are gone. Once again I’m alone and feeling sorry for myself. Fucking Danny, selfish bastard. I hate the silence, I’m in a two-bed room, but the other bed is empty. I unravel the headphones and put on some music, then I close my eyes and drift into a restless, painful sleep.

Chapter Three

Liv

Can I have a hug?

My face is lightly brushed by a soft hand and it snaps me out of the deep darkness. A warmth surrounds me and I feel a peace that I haven’t felt for at least a week. Fleetingly
, I want to know who the hand belongs to, but I’m deep in a foggy state and I instinctively know I’m not even close to the surface yet.

The hand skims over my skin again. It
’s bringing me forward from the depths of sleep, but only enough to be aware if the comfort it brings. Comfort I want so badly it aches. The fingers traces the line of my jaw, but then withdraws and I’m left with the darkness again.

My eyes don’t want to open as I tune into the sounds in the room. I can hear Max talking to someone, but it isn’t clear who. They are speaking too quietly. My mouth is dry and my throat is sore, but I
’m just not awake enough yet to tell them. Vaguely, I recall a spell in the recovery room, but I can’t place when that was. As I fight through, I manage to prise open an eye and then lift my hand. What a horrible feeling, like trying to run through treacle. But, quickly, I start to win.

“Liv
,” says Max. “She’s coming round.” He says to the someone else. The someone else mutters a response.

Max pulls a chair next to me and sits down, holding my hand. “Hey, Liv
,” he says gently.

I peel both eyes open and blink at the blurriness. “I need a drink.” I manage in a hoarse whisper, my throat so dry it feels stuck together.

“The nurse is just bringing you some water.” he soothes.

It feels like evening, but it must still be morning
, unless the operation took way longer than expected. The room is dimly lit and cosy. I blink and look around. The curtains are closed and the slightest trace of daylight is trying to peep around them. A nurse appears and greets us warmly.

“How are we?”
she asks.

“My throat is sore
,” I tell her.

“Yes
, that’s from the breathing tube they use during the op. Let’s get you a sip of water.”

I try to sit up, but the nurse puts her hand on my shoulder. “Just relax, these beds do all the work for you, you know.” She unhooks the control from the side of the bed and begins raising me into a sitting position. From here I can see better and I glance around for another person, feeling like not everyone is accounted for. But
it’s just Max and the nurse going about her business. My heart sinks with disappointment, I don’t know what I was expecting, but I felt whole again for a moment when I was awoken by a loving touch. I know I hate Danny, but I know in my heart I thought it was him in the room and in that split second everything seemed right with the world. It was obviously a drug-induced dream and the reality is far more of a nightmare.

“Are you in any pain?”
she asks.

Not physically, I want to say. It’s just this aching hole in my chest where my heart should be…But I keep it in. “No, not really.” I reply, forcing myself back to the present. I can’t wallow in this right now
, tempting as it is. I have to get better.

“Well, if you feel like it is getting too much just press this button and one of us will see about a top
-up.” She busies herself with checking my pulse and blood pressure. Once she is satisfied, she says, “Dr Andrews will be along a little later to chat to you, but I understand the surgery was a complete success. Now you just rest.”

After she leaves us, I turn to Max. “Who were you talking to?”

He frowns. “When?”

“Just before, I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t work out who you were talking to.”
Max’s face blanches and he looks guilty, but maybe I’m looking for something that isn’t there. He thinks for a moment and then shrugs. “Just the nurse probably.” I sigh in disappointment. In my hazy dream-state, I hoped Danny had come. I hate myself for it, but for that moment I felt like it would make everything okay again. How desperate am I? I’m not going to admit that to Max though. It’s far too humiliating.

“How are you feeling?”
he asks.

Pathetic, I think …“Tired.” I reply. I had as good a night
’s sleep as it is possible to have in hospital. At about 3am there was some sort of emergency down the corridor. The alarm went off at the nurses’ station just outside my door and every pair of feet in the place seemed to go thundering down the corridor. With all the excitement happening around me, the constant observations carried out by the nurses and the pain, it wasn't a restful night.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you went into surgery this morning
,” he says.

“That
’s okay, they took me earlier than they said.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“You can find out if I’m allowed to eat something, I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime and I’m starving. What time is it?” I ask.

Max looks at his watch. “Four thirty.”

“What? How long did the surgery take?”

“About an hour and a half, you came back here at eleven and you
’ve been in and out ever since.”

“Oh.”

“The nurse has been backwards and forwards, she says it’s normal. Some people just go under fairly deep.”

“Have you been here the whole time?” I ask.

“Yep.” He smiles. “I’ll go and find out if you can eat. What do you want?”

“Something good.” I grin
and sip my water.

For the first time I think about my ankle and as Max goes out to the nurse, I have a look under the covers at what is keeping me here. At first I
’m surprised that it’s not in a cast. Instead it’s wrapped in bandages. It looks like a comedy broken leg, it’s huge. Fear stops me testing it and as I look at it I feel strangely detached. Luckily the cut on my head is nothing, because I didn’t black out. I suppose I might have a scar, but I scar myself willingly in every colour of the rainbow, so a natural one isn’t exactly something I will worry about. It’s right in my hairline anyway.

Max comes back with a thumb
’s up. “She says you can have whatever you like, so Josh is on his way over with a goody bag from Jake.”

“You’re a star.” I smile. I don’t know what I would do without him. But things should have been so different.

“No problem.” He grins. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,
can I have a hug?” I feel suddenly needy and emotional. He rushes over and squeezes me a bit too tight, but I don’t care. I need him.

“Hey,
it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m here.”

“Sorry
,” I say, my voice strained with emotion as I wipe big tears from my eyes.

Max sits back and assesses me while keeping hold of my hand. He says nothing, just stares
. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. It’s almost unheard of for him to not know how to help me. We are so in tune that we normally alienate people, so this is a strange experience. I know he completely disagrees with my decision to cut Danny off. But he is usually more vocal when we have a difference of opinion. He probably feels like he can’t say anything because I’m fragile now. Who knew injuring myself would actually protect me?

I
’m just finishing my club sandwich with a side of chips, when the surgeon appears at the door. I guiltily put the rubbish in the bag and Max scurries away to dispose of it.

“Don’t stop on my account he insists, we like a healthy appetite around here.” He jokes
.

“It’s fine
, I was finished anyway,” I say and wipe my mouth.

“So, everything went perfectly this morning
,” he says, all business. He goes over to the light panel on the wall beside me and switches it on. Then he slots my x-ray onto the front. It looks grizzly.

“You can see here, you have shattered everything in this area. We call it a trimalleolar fracture.” He
sounds way too jolly. “To repair it, we have made two incisions here and here.” He points to each side of my ankle. “And we have used a plate and screws to secure the pieces of bone where we want them and hold them there while they heal back together.”

He swaps the x-ray for a new one that looks a million times grizzlier. Max walks back in at that moment and baulks at the sight of the x-ray, which looks like something from
a hospital drama. The surgeon points to a large screw that goes horizontally across the ankle. “This screw is temporary, we will need to remove it in a few weeks. The rest are permanent.” He smiles.

“Now
, you won’t be able to bear any weight whatsoever on this foot for about six weeks until the bones have sufficiently knitted together, particularly while this screw is still in. Once we have taken out your stitches, we will put you in a proper cast. Until then, you are sporting this.” He laughs. “It’s a metal back slab, it will be quite weighty.”

“Wow. That
’s a lot to take in.” I exhale.

“We will give you pain relief and anti-inflammatories to take home. You will need to keep it elevated as much as possible, I’d say the majority of the time. You’ll obviously use crutches to get around, making sure that this foot stays off the ground at all times.” He thinks for a moment. “I might even see if I can get you a wheelchair for a couple of weeks.”

“Brilliant,” I mutter. Max stifles a laugh.

“Are you able to organise things at home to accommodate you while you recover?”

Max isn’t able to stifle the laugh this time. “Well I live alone, in the flat above my busy restaurant and bar and the only access is via a long staircase.” I reply, while shooting Max a ‘thanks-so-much-for-your-love-and-support’ look.

“Oh
,” he replies.

“She can stay with us.” Max kindly offers.

“No, I want to be at home,” I insist. “Once I’m up, or down, the stairs, I’ll be fine. You will have to help me.”

“We have to make sure you can safely negotiate stairs before you go home. The first couple of weeks will be the hardest, while you have this heavy bandage, but I want you to try and rest with your leg elevated as much as possible, so you’ll be fine.”

He leaves us, promising that I would be discharged tomorrow morning after meeting the physio and being checked over once more.

“Can I push you around?” Max asks excitedly, falling about laughing. “And can we get some of those flashing wheels?”

“Oh fuck off!” I snap.

“Sorry
,” he says, hanging his head slightly.

The physiotherapist arrives at my doorway bearing crutches and a wheelchair. Max is once again incorrigible. She shows me how to get myself into and out of the chair and how to put the leg rest up to keep it elevated. I
’m astonished at the weight of this massive bandage, it weighs a ton. I’m glad I’m supposed to rest it as I don’t fancy carting it around much.

On
ce she’s happy that I’m not a complete danger to myself, she gets me up on the crutches.

“This thing is so heavy, how am I supposed to keep it off the ground?” I ask in frustration.

“Well you will be resting it most of the time. I just need to show you how to do the basics.”

Stairs on crutches are a nightmare! I give it my best effort and she seems satisfied, then she shows me two exercises she wants me to do every day, to keep everything moving
, and then finally leaves me alone to rest.

“Please go home
, Max. You’ve been here all day and I haven’t been much company.” I’ve been very lucky that no one has been put in the other bed, so visiting hours have been overlooked by the staff.

“It’s ok
ay, I don’t want you to be on your own,” he replies.

I stroke his cheek. “I’m fine, honestly. Go on, have some dinner and see your man. He’ll have forgotten what you look like.”

“If you’re sure. What will you do?”

“Sleep probably.”

“Okay.”

Max
spends ten minutes, fussing around, putting everything within reach, insisting on helping me to the loo and buying me a couple of drinks and a bar of chocolate.

“See you in the morning.” He kiss
es me on the forehead before he goes.

“See you
,” I reply cheerfully as he walks out of the door.

I don’t want him to know how I really feel. I was dreading being on my own, to the extent that I forced him to go, just to get it over with. I
’m at a really low ebb. The stuff that has happened to me over the past couple of weeks is too much to digest in one chunk. I can’t take any more. Fighting tears, I plug my headphones into the TV and put some home improvement show on. I wish I had a film to watch. Music is too meaningful and I don’t want to think right now, so I try really hard to watch the program without drifting into thought.

Danny’s hand slides over my stomach as his tongue twists around my hard nipple. I’ve never wanted him more. It feels so urgent, like it could be taken away at any second. “oh!’ I moan, startled by the sound. Why does it feel odd to make that sound?