Everything Left Unsaid (10 page)

‘Want a taste, Tai?’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘Um. No. Thanks anyway.’

Dad sticks it in his mouth, makes a big deal of chewing it with all these little
nom-nom
noises while Mum elbows him and hisses, ‘Stop it.’

‘Hey, look, Tai.’ Dad grabs the remaining two chicken feet in the dish and pretends he’s got claws.

‘Ignore your father,’ Mum tells me, passing me a bowlful of rice. The trolley comes around again and they select some dumplings.

‘You know we love you, Tai,’ Mum begins, then gives Dad the look.
Your turn
.

‘You’re a good kid,’ he says. ‘Always have been sensible, Tai.’

The dumpling in my throat feels like a lump of concrete stuck there. I gulp down my glass of water and refill it, knowing that what Dad’s going to say next will be way worse than some crappy Dad joke.

‘We just want you to know,’ he says, ‘your Mum and I . . . we want you to know that we trust you to decide when you’ve had enough of the surgeries and treatment. If you want to stop, say the word and we’ll sign whatever papers we have to.’ He trails off and looks at Mum helplessly.

‘If it was up to me, Tai,’ Mum says gently, ‘I’d want you to have every surgery you could, try every medication there was, just for another couple of months, or weeks, or even days with you in them.’ She pauses, and shakes her head at the girl hesitating by our table with a trolley. ‘But in the end, it’s up to you. And we’ll be there to support you. We’ll take you home if you want to go home – or whatever you want. You just need to promise us, Tai, that you won’t rush into a decision. It’s too important.’

‘I promise,’ I say.

I’m glad they said it, but I’m relieved when they get back to talking about normal stuff. Even happier when they pay the bill and we go home. Juliet’s sitting on the lounge room floor, cross-legged, pulling apart a huge tower of Lego piece by piece. When my olds leave us alone, Juliet and I lie on the lounge together. I don’t want to talk about tonight, and I
really
don’t want to talk about what’s going to happen tomorrow, so I flick on the television, hit the buttons on the remote until I find a movie.

Pretty soon her head is on my chest, her eyes closed. After a while my arm’s gone to sleep, and I pull it out from under her, but she doesn’t even stir. The watch on the wrist of the arm I’ve just freed says it’s past eleven – past her curfew. I think about waking her up, know I
should
, but instead I pull the blanket up over us and hold her tight.

And after a little while, I find myself whispering, ‘I love you too, Juliet.’

The next morning Mum stands in the bathroom as I’m racing to get ready. I want to go to the hospital before I go to school, and I’m late already. She’s giving me a hard time for breaking my curfew and staying at Tai’s place
until two o’clock in the morning
, which leads straight into the third degree about what we got up to. There’s a hint of sympathy, but it’s not enough for me, not today.

‘Mum, we didn’t do anything, okay? We fell asleep on the lounge.’

‘I’m not entirely sure if I believe that.’

I seriously don’t know what her problem is. Well, apart from curfew, but I know Mum cares about curfew less than she cares about the idea of me getting drunk and having sex so, technically, I haven’t done much wrong. I finish swiping on mascara and throw my lip gloss into my pocket.

‘Believe it. Don’t believe it. I don’t care. I’ve got to go to school.’

If this was a normal morning I’d go to school and complain to Gen about what a bitch Mum is. But it’s anything but a normal morning because instead of catching the school bus I’m waiting for the one that goes past the hospital. A car pulls up, and the driver leans over to open the door. It’s Mum.

‘Get in. I’ll drive you to the hospital.’

I look at her suspiciously. ‘This isn’t a trick, is it? Is that where you were really going? You’re not going to take me to a convent or something?’

She shakes her head and holds up a Maccas bag. ‘I bought breakfast.’

I get in.

The traffic’s pretty bad, and I’m thankful that Mum has to concentrate on the road while I stuff my mouth so full of food it would be impossible to speak. When we’re about five minutes away from the hospital, though, Mum looks over at me. I know she’s going to start on me again, and I so don’t want to hear it today.

‘Look, Juliet, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been giving you a hard time about school. I just don’t want you to lose the options you’ve got because you haven’t studied. You don’t want to find out you’ve lost the chance to go to uni, when you’re already losing your best friend.’

I’m about to say,
Give me a break, I can’t do this today
, but Mum’s pulling into the hospital car park. She concentrates on parking while I close my eyes and wish this wasn’t happening.

While we’re in the lift going up to the ward, Mum touches me on the shoulder. ‘You know, Juliet,’ she begins, but there’s a
ding
and the doors slide open.

I’m fidgety and anxious to see Tai, but when I do see him I almost wish I hadn’t come. He’s hooked up to two different machines that beep occasionally and show a bunch of numbers. There’s another tube leading from a bag of fluids to a needle in his hand, and an ID bracelet around his wrist. And they’ve shaved his hair off.
Oh, Tai. I wish you’d told me, had warned me about this
.

I want to go over to him, tell him I heard what he said last night, rest my head on his shoulder, but Stanley and Mia are hovering over him. I watch them fussing around him, adjusting this and that, while I stand next to Mum, willing them to stop for one goddamn second so I can talk to him. A nurse comes in and sees Mum and me. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s only two visitors at a time, and only immediate family at that. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him. You can pop in and visit once he’s back in the general ward.’

It takes a second to sink in. I’m getting kicked out. I haven’t even said hello to Tai and they’re kicking me out. As we leave the room he flashes me a wan smile. Back in the corridor, Mum hugs me but I’m too shocked from seeing Tai like that to respond. For the first time, I’ve begun to catch a glimpse of the undeniable in Tai’s face, in his movements. Tai
is
dying. It shows.

I slide into the car wordlessly.

Mum says gently, ‘You don’t have to go to school today. I’ll write you a note.’

‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘I’ve got an exam.’

When Mum pulls up at the school gates I hurry out, not bothering to put my bag in my locker. Instead I leave it outside the door to the school hall and slip inside, finding an empty seat.
Grey like the hospital chairs
, I think, before I can stop myself. The exam is one of the mid-semester tests they’ve probably designed just to torture us. I don’t think it even counts for anything much. I’m already wishing I hadn’t come. But there are only so many days seniors are allowed to have off without it ‘affecting things’, and I know I’ll want the time off later. When Tai is—
Stop it, Juliet. Concentrate. The exam starts in a couple of minutes. Get through the next two weeks, and then you’re on school holidays. And then when they end a month will have passed and for Tai that means
–
stop it. Just stop it
.

My thoughts are interrupted by the invigilator instructing us to begin. I stare down at the page, waiting for the words on it to make sense. One of my teachers is walking around the room, handing out spare pens and extra paper, and he pauses at my desk. ‘You okay, Juliet?’

‘Tai’s in surgery,’ I whisper back miserably. He’s startled by that, and seems like he’s about to say something more, but someone else has put their hand up for more paper, so he pats me on the shoulder and walks away.

I manage to pull it together enough to write something down, and by the end I think I’ve done enough to pass.

As we’re filing out I hurry to catch up with the girls. They talk for a few minutes about the exam before giggling about something that happened at Gen’s place on the weekend. I’m trying to catch up on it, doing the smile-and-nod thing, biting my lip so I don’t ask,
Why wasn’t I invited?

The question hangs in the air anyway, and Gen says, ‘Sorry, Juliet. We just thought . . . you know – that you’d want to be with Tai.’

I shrug it off, pretending I don’t care. She’s right, but they still could’ve asked.

Gen and I go to the tuckshop while Lina and Rae wander off to their lockers. By the time we’re sitting on the grass with our noodles my nonchalance has worn off.

‘You could’ve asked.’

Gen looks up, surprised. ‘Asked what?’

‘On the weekend. You could’ve invited me.’

‘It’s not like it was a big deal, Juliet. You do heaps of stuff with Tai without inviting me.’

‘That’s different. You so know that’s different.’ I shove a forkful of noodles into my mouth and glare at her from behind my sunnies.

‘I just thought you wouldn’t want to, that’s all. We never hang out like we used to – you just want to be with him all the time.’

Yeah . . . well, you suck
, I don’t say.
He’s in surgery and you don’t even ask about that. He’s having his skull cut open and you don’t even ask
. Instead I shove some more noodles in my mouth and will myself not to cry. It’s not working though, and the tears trickle down my face.

‘Hey, Juliet, are you crying? Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—’

‘It’s okay. You’re probably right, anyway. Want to do something next weekend? Maybe go shopping for our formal dresses?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ We smile at each other, tentative peace restored, before the bell rings and we go our separate ways to collect our books and go to our afternoon exam session.

• • •

At home I stare at my phone, willing it to beep. ‘Come on, Mia, learn how to send a freaking text already,’ I mutter. When it finally beeps, the message is brief.
Surgery went well. Tai sleeping
. I’m not entirely sure what
went well
means, when they can’t fix him, and all I know is I can’t visit Tai, not yet, not until he gets moved to a regular ward. I decide to text him, and my fingers are already pressing the buttons before my brain catches up – he won’t be allowed to have his phone on.
Fuck
. It’s like he’s in isolation, but only from me.

Mum comes home and finds me in my room, drawing in the gaps on the page of the textbook I’m studying. She stands there making a disapproving face, and I can tell she’s silently debating whether or not to have a go at me for it but, thankfully, she doesn’t. Instead she gestures towards the kitchen. ‘Dinner?’

‘I’m not really hungry, Mum.’

‘That’s such a shame.’ She grins. ‘It’s Indian takeaway. Your favourite. Oh well, all the more for me.’

‘You’re really into food bribery today, aren’t you?’

‘Maybe. Is it working?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you too.’

‘What?’

‘You’re going to have to come to the table to find out.’

There, on my plate, is a tiny parcel wrapped in tissue paper the colour of a jacaranda flower. Hidden underneath the layers is a nose stud, with a stone of the same colour.

‘Thanks, Mum. But I thought you hated my nose ring,’ I blurt out.

‘I do. But I know you like it.’

‘And . . .’

‘And you just looked like you needed some cheering up.’ Mum smiles at me, and I swallow hard, trying to blink back the tears that have started to well.

‘Juliet? Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not today.’
Or, you know, maybe never, because you have no idea what this is like
.

My head is splitting apart. If I move it, it might shatter. I think there are bandages up there but I can’t lift my hands.

A nurse is waiting nearby. ‘Tai? Is there anything I can get you?’

‘A drink?’ My voice is thin and croaky.

She gives me an ice chip to suck on, fiddles with the drip, and then my eyes are closing again. There’s pain, but the feeling is muted, covered with the blanket of painkillers that have been dripping into my veins since before the surgery ended. They promised me there’d be no pain, that I wouldn’t feel it, and now I get the idea that they’re kind of lying. There is pain, and I’ve got the feeling that there will be plenty of it later, but right now it’s a vague thought and easy enough to push out of my mind.

The doctor visits not long after, and I force my eyes open again while he explains that the surgery went as well as could be expected, that I’ll feel a lot better in a couple of weeks once I’ve healed up some. He asks if I have any questions and I try to shake my head but that seems to take too much effort so I just close my eyes instead.

When I wake again it’s dark outside, and I can’t quite remember where I am at first. There’s a nurse checking the monitors and writing notes on my chart, and I beg again for some water. She fetches a cup of it with a straw, and holds it for me. It’s cold, and good, and I’m grateful, but too sleepy to thank her.

One day they take me back to the ward. It’s always light, always noisy – it’s almost comforting. The nightmares are still there, even through the veil of painkillers, but whenever I wake, gasping, a monitor sounds and a nurse comes in.

‘You okay, Tai?’

One night the nurse takes my observations, and then sits on the edge of the bed and smiles at me so kindly I’m sure I’d burst into childish tears if it wasn’t for the morphine dulling everything. ‘You’re doing so well, Tai. You really are.’

‘Have you ever seen someone die?’

She hesitates, and then nods. ‘Yes.’

‘What was it like?’

There’s another pause and I wish she’d hurry up because the latest hit of painkillers is taking over and I’m not going to be awake for much longer.

Finally she says, ‘He was ready to go. It was very peaceful.’

‘What if, when it happens . . . what if I’m not ready?’

I really want to hear her answer, but sleep comes first and I drift off. I’m dimly aware she’s probably grateful for that.

Mum’s there when I wake up next. She smiles bravely at me and holds my hand. ‘I’m here, Tai.’