Crashing Down (13 page)

She clears her head. Revises the same words she has thought every day over the last week. Should the opportunity arise, she'll tell him today. It has to be done. She steels herself. Today, she'll do it. She grits her teeth as she strides purposefully across the car
park to the sliding doors of the hospital.

‘Hey there.' He gives her his best smile. ‘What's up?'

‘Not a lot.' She sinks into the chair next to him. ‘What about you?'

‘The usual.' He grins at her. ‘Thermometers, questions — that kind of thing. I'm getting better at the answers, though.'

‘Yeah? What do you mean?' Lucy frowns.

‘I remember the answers,' he says. He looks pretty pleased with himself. ‘I've been checking my phone to see what day it is — and then I tell them. I still don't get why it's that important.'

Lucy is about to say something, but doesn't.

‘And you didn't notice,' he says.

‘Notice what?'

‘This.' He holds his hands up in the air. They are uncuffed, the straps are gone. ‘So, looks like they might release me from this shithole soon.'

‘Really?' She sits up.

Carl nods, pleased. ‘Yeah, the doctor — you know, the one who looks a bit like a rat?'

She nods her head. ‘Dr Wiseman.'

‘Yeah, him — reckon he might be just that.'

Lucy laughs at his joke.

‘He says maybe by the end of the week, if I keep going this way. Not sure what that means, but hell, I'll do anything.'

‘You're so much better,' she agrees, taking his hand. ‘More like your old self.'

‘Yeah.' He nods. ‘Hey, what happened to me?'

She frowns again. ‘You had a car accident.'

‘I know that. But …'

He drops his voice, and Lucy sees he's still not convinced the room isn't bugged.

‘I don't remember where I was, or what happened.'

She looks unsure for a minute and then she tells him what happened, as much as she can remember from Wayne's story.

He looks shocked. ‘Is it wrecked? My beautiful car — I paid three and a half grand for that baby.'

She nods. ‘Totalled.'

‘Fuck.' He sits for a minute in silence. ‘No insurance. What a dick. Dad kept telling me to get it. Now I've got nothing.'

‘At least JD is okay,' she says eventually.

‘Why? What do you mean? What's wrong with him?'

She is quiet for the longest time. He has obviously forgotten JD was with him. ‘He's in hospital, too,' she says eventually.

Carl recoils. ‘Fuck. Where is he?' And his voice sounds really angry. He swings his legs out of bed; they move effortlessly, but he looks a bit light-headed by the motion.

She flinches. ‘Wait.' She puts a hand on his arm. ‘He's not here.'

‘Why not?' he barks.

‘Calm down.'

Carl sits back in the bed.

‘He's in a different hospital,' she says.

‘Why isn't he here too? We could've shared a room. Man, that would've made things so much better. Having him here would've been awesome.'

‘He's in rehab,' she says, when he's settled back against the pillows.

‘True story?' Carl starts laughing. ‘Little JD, the druggie. Man, he likes a bit of weed — but rehab?'

‘No.' Lucy's not laughing; she's trying not to cry.

‘What is it, babe,' he says, holding her hand. ‘Tell me.'

‘Broken neck,' she whispers. ‘He's in traction. He
has a broken neck.'

‘How did that happen?' he asks. ‘My mate has a broken neck and no one bothered to tell me? I should be visiting him, not lying around in bed.'

‘In the car crash,' she says softly. ‘His neck, arm and both legs got broken.'

Carl sits silently, trying to put the bits together. ‘Why?'

‘When the car flipped. Several times. He got all broken up.'

‘His car flipped?'

She shakes her head. ‘No — your car.'

He looks like a cartoon character.
Ka-pow!
She watches him fearfully. She had been dreading this conversation, too, unsure how it might affect him.

‘Carl,' she says softly.

He won't look at her, keeps his head turned away.

‘He's alright.'

‘Alright?' Carl snaps. ‘I've broken my best mate's neck and he's alright?'

‘Yes,' she whispers. She can't bear it, his pain and confusion, and now she sees his guilt. ‘I'll get Dr Field. Maybe you need to talk to her.'

Carl keeps his face turned away.

‘How come you're not at the hospital?' Georgia asks. ‘Or at work?'

They're at their usual table at the coffee shop. The day, although sunny, has a cold edge to it. It feels like the weather is about to change. Lucy shivers.

‘Did you get a day off?'

Lucy shakes her head. ‘From work, yes. I was way too tired to put up with stupid customer complaints. But Carl, no. I went in this morning. I told him that JD was in the car and had a broken neck, and he took it pretty badly. So I got his psych and left.'

‘Yeah,' Lydia says, ‘imagine how you'd feel, knowing you nearly killed someone.'

‘I think I have a fair idea,' Lucy says grimly. She stares out at the ocean. All the while she is dealing with Carl and his issues, she is trying to shelve her own.

‘Luce,' Georgia says, touching her hand. ‘Don't be like that.'

Lucy shrugs. ‘He says they'll let him out soon.'

‘Awesome,' Lydia says.

Lucy shrugs again. ‘I'm not sure. Yeah, it will make Mr and Mrs K happy, and it'll be great not to have to do the hour and a half round trip, but I don't know. He doesn't seem ready to me.'

‘Well, there's nothing you can do about that,' Georgia says.

‘I know, I can't seem to do anything. I haven't even had a chance to study properly and exams are next week.' Panic rises. What's the worst that can happen?
You fail,
the mean voice in her head reminds her. She can't fail — miss her chance for uni — because if she does, then what was all this for?

‘My tutor says you have to work out a timetable and stick to it,' Lydia suggests helpfully. ‘You know, focus on one subject at a time.'

Lucy laughs wistfully. ‘I wish that was all I had to
focus on. I need to tell him about the pregnancy, but the effect the news about JD had on him scares me.'

‘Maybe best you do it before he leaves hospital,' Georgia suggests.

‘Yeah,' Lydia agrees, ‘that way they can tie him up again, if he goes psycho.'

‘Lydia!' Georgia shouts.

‘What?' Lydia frowns into her latte.

‘It's a good point,' Lucy says and Lydia looks grateful. ‘I'm so scared of how he'll respond if I do it after he's discharged. You're right.'

Lucy grits her teeth, demands her brain get it together. Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow she'll tell him. No excuses.

The next day there is a massive change in the weather. The days of sunshine suddenly give way to an unseasonally cold and blustery day.

Lucy shuts her computer down. Revision for Biology complete. Cursory at best. It's her first exam next week. She's got one ready, via last-minute cramming — five to go.

On the drive to the hospital, she formulates the conversation. The same one she's planned fifty-nine times already. It must be perfect now. The only thing she can't be sure of is his response. She was always good as third chair in debating, based on her ability to counter an argument on the spot; now she has to rely on that skill.

It's a bit of a shock when she gets to his room and finds him out of his bed and seated in the chair next to it. In jeans and a T-shirt.

‘Wow,' she says as she walks in.

‘Not bad, hey?' He stands rather unsteadily. ‘Watch this.' And he shuffles, like a geriatric, towards her.

‘Steady,' she says, holding out her arms as though he's a toddler taking first steps. ‘Don't overdo it.'

He grabs her, but his hold is weak and she feels him shaking. ‘Fast track to home,' he says, his breathing heavy.

‘Easy.' She holds his arm and helps him back to the chair.

She sits on the bed.
Now what?
She wants to tell him — the words are ready to burst out of her.
But what if this is the wrong time? When is it not going to be the wrong time?
She argues with herself.

‘Hey,' he says. ‘What's up? You're quiet.'

‘What?' She's brought back from her thoughts and looks at him, watching her. The black eyes have lightened; now the sockets have taken on a yellowish hue, and the whites of his eyes are coming back, crazing the dark brown like haphazard pavers. It
still gives him a weird look, but he is starting to look more like himself.

‘What are you thinking about?' He grabs hold of her hand and pulls her near.

The words are there, waiting to be said. She opens her mouth. He smiles at her. She snaps it shut. Can't say it. Too scared.

‘Let's get out of here. Look.' She points out the window; the sky has cleared. ‘Let's go for a walk.'

‘A walk?' He looks doubtful.

‘I'll walk and you can sit.' She jumps to her feet, desperate to get out of the room. ‘I'll get a wheelchair.'

The nurse tells her no more than fifteen minutes, but agrees it's a good idea to go out for fresh air. ‘Do him good,' she says. ‘Poor love's been cooped up in here so long. He's so lucky to have you.' She pats Lucy's arm. ‘You've barely left his side.'

Lucy comes back with the chair. ‘Come on,' she says, helping him into it. ‘Now hang on.' She pushes the chair to the hallway and they wait for the elevator.

‘Where are we going?' he says to the space in front of him.

‘Just into the gardens,' Lucy says to the back of his head. ‘Change of scenery.'

It's cool outside and she shivers slightly, pushing him along the footpath to a small garden. The air holds the scent of this morning's rain. She breathes in deeply. Can she do it? Tell him now?

The young guy from Level 5 is sitting on the bench, having a cigarette, as she rounds the corner.

‘Hi,' he says guiltily, dropping it and squashing it with his slipper. ‘Busted.'

‘Nigel!' Lucy says. ‘Smoking! And you only had surgery yesterday.'

‘I know,' he says sheepishly, ‘but I figure with all the drugs I'm on, how can this hurt? I'm giving up as soon as I'm out of here.'

She nods.

Carl has straightened in the chair. She pushes him near the bench and sits down next to Nigel.

‘This is Carl. Nigel.'

‘Hey,' Nigel says. ‘How you doin'? Heard a lot about you.'

Carl sneers. ‘Have you, now? I haven't heard anything about you. What does that mean, then?'

‘Carl!' Lucy hasn't seen this hostility in him for a while. She thought it had gone but remembers the doctor telling her that aspects could linger. He had never been suspicious or jealous before — was this going to be part of his new personality?

‘Well, your little friend here seems to know a lot about me,' Carl spits nastily. ‘So I guess you two must spend a fair bit of time together.'

She shakes her head and looks at Nigel apologetically. She's run into Nigel in the garden a handful of times when she's escaped Carl's room to breathe, and they've had a few chats. ‘I'm sorry,' she says.

Nigel rises. ‘No worries,' he says. ‘I gotta go anyway — my girlfriend's up there waiting for me.'

‘Okay,' she says, watching him shuffle off. She can't look at Carl.

‘Dickhead,' he says angrily.

She grabs hold of the wheelchair's handles and starts pushing him back towards the building. She can't speak. She's mad, and sad. Every time he appears to be normal, he does something else, something random and hostile. Will he ever be normal again?

Back in the room, she helps him into the chair.
Looks at her watch deliberately and sighs.

‘What's up?' he says, the episode in the garden already forgotten.

‘Nothing. I've got to go in a minute.'

‘Why?' He looks sad.

‘Exams,' she says. She can't make eye contact with him. He disturbs her so much. ‘I need to study.'

‘No, you don't.' He grabs her hands and pulls her on to his lap. ‘You're too smart for study. You don't need it at all.'

He kisses her and it's hard and frantic. She feels waves of revulsion, wants to pull back, but he is holding her tightly. She feels like gagging.

‘So …' She manages to get her face away and breathes. ‘I've got to get going.'

‘Fine,' he says sulkily. ‘Go, then. Make sure you stop in and see your little friend, too.'

She shakes her head, totally fed up. His memory has improved, although his temper hasn't. ‘See you tomorrow.'

He looks at the wall. ‘Yeah, fine.'

She hovers in the doorway. She doesn't want to leave like this, on bad terms — look what happened last time. It's hard not to feel superstitious. ‘Sorry, I've
got a lot on my mind.' She takes a step towards him.

‘Like what?'

He looks so bewildered and confused, it breaks her heart. She sits on the bed and holds his hand.

‘Lots.' She shrugs. ‘Exams, your accident — other things.'

He nods. ‘What other things?'

Here it is — an open invitation.
Just do it.

‘I'm pregnant.' There, done. Said. Out there.
Now what?

‘Really?' His face breaks into the biggest smile.

Part of her strength and resolve withers.
Fight it,
she tells herself.

‘Is it mine?' He frowns.

‘Of course.' She doesn't mean to snap.

‘Oh, wow!' He laughs loudly. ‘I'm going to be a father!'