Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (4 page)

“
Mattie baby, Mummy’s here,” I hoarsely whisper with a painful
throat. “You need to stop that. Sir, please, stop, you’re going to
hurt her.”

Jon takes hold
of me again and drags me, stumbling in the wrong direction, talking
to the faceless people coming towards us, telling them to get out
of the way.

At one point he
stops and starts yelling at someone, “I don’t know what we fucking
need, just give us a fucking minute okay?” He turns to the side,
“Luke, please,” ending his rant by squeezing me so tightly it feels
like my spine is going to crack.

“
Let
me go Jon” How can he not understand that I need to be with my
family? I need to take care of my family. I’m Mummy, it’s what I
do; it’s my job to take care of them.

He’s so much
stronger than I am and continues on. When he gets sick of my
struggles, he lifts me off the ground and heads towards the
footpath.

That’s when I
see him. The anchor to my whole world lying bloody and broken, his
neck bent all wrong, eyes wide, staring out blankly. My frantic
heart jolts as I dart unbelieving eyes over Brendan’s disjointed
form, desperately willing a response, any response. A twitch of a
finger, his beautiful mouth quirking at the edge like it does when
he’s playing a practical joke. I could only pray that this is a
joke. My gaze takes in as much of him as it can through the gaps in
the surrounding people. I notice his lower leg’s jutting out at a
right angle from his knee and blood – so much blood, seeping into
the furrows of the uneven black surface beneath him.

A large man in a
dark blue uniform rests his hands on his thighs and slowly rocks
from his knees onto his heels into a squatting position, rising
from Brendan’s side. He arches his back then starts speaking to
another man in a matching uniform, shaking his head in the
negative.

“
No.”
My brain screams painfully, rebounding over and over again against
the inner surface of my skull. “No, you don’t get to do that,” I
hear myself cry. “Don’t you dare do that.” My unashamed anguish is
on display for all to witness.

I try to pry
myself from Jon again. With a cripplingly thumping heart, I tug and
jerk and yank my body, ignoring my elbow when it pops out of place,
but I’m still held captive.

Frustrated, I
spontaneously push myself forwards into Jon’s front and bite his
upper arm as hard as I can and tasting a warm metallic liquid
seeping into my mouth, see the discolouration spread over his shirt
when I look to the place I’ve sunken my teeth into.

His grip falters
from the shock; I shove his chest with all the strength I can
muster, then leap around him and sprint towards my husband’s
unmoving body, stumble and skid to a stop on my knees, ignoring the
jagged edges of the road tearing into my flesh as my dress rips
beneath me.

My hands hover
uselessly above his lifeless body. I don’t know what to do, where
to touch.

“
You
need to - you have to… do something,” I say, not knowing if my
words carry in the air. They need to, someone needs to… I don’t
know what to do.

I cup Brendan’s
face, feeling the still warm, tacky blood stick to my skin. I move
his head into a more natural position and press my forehead to his,
begging with every ounce of love I have, “Wake up baby, please,
just wake up for me,” my tears pouring down my cheeks and dripping
onto my husband’s unblinking, lifeless, beautiful face.

I press kiss
after kiss to his mouth, pleading him to kiss me back, just kiss me
back, please baby, kiss me, just one, please… I know if he kisses
me back just one time then… then…

“
Maggie, honey -”

“
No,
no, Jonny, please no.”
Don’t take me away from him
. “Please,
not him. I’ll do anything. Please not my… not him, Jon.”
Please
don’t take him away from me.
Jon lifts me off the gritty, blood
soaked ground and carries me away from my life, my partner. I make
a weak attempt to get away, knowing it won’t work, I’m so
physically spent.

“
I’m
so sorry Maggie.” The thick rasp comes from my side and has me
turning automatically. I’m struck mercilessly again and again, as
the scene before me sharpen into one frightening frame and my
denial takes and back seat to my morbid reality.

My girls are
surrounded by uniformed figures pounding on limp, unresponsive
bodies. Strangers are barking instructions as they lift my little
Mattie onto a trolley and roll her into the back of a waiting
ambulance. The blaring siren screeches to life, the rear doors slam
with brutal force. My eyes dart right to see a similar action
playing out with Ella, a limp arm flaying off the side of her
rolling bed as it jostles over the course surface and takes her
behind banging doors.

When my line of
sight reluctantly returns to my husband, my body gains too much
weight for my legs to carry. Thankfully Jon’s clutches me to stop
me from falling. My husband’s surrounded by a number of people in
various uniforms; a female dressed in navy gently covers his body
with a white blanket. Starting at his feet she methodically unfolds
it, pausing for a moment before covering Brendan’s face, hiding it
from the gathering crowd.

Hiding it from
me.

Painful cries
sear through my chest, my heart burning to ash as the reality of
what my life has become encases me. My soul wisps lifelessly
through my very being because it knows. He’s gone.

Oh God. I’ve
lost him.

“
Jon,
we need to go.” A deep masculine voice says from behind me. I no
longer have the energy or the inclination to see who’s speaking. My
head feels like it’s filled with scrambled eggs.

I need my
husband. I need my girls.

“
Jon,
the girls-”

“
YOU,”
Jon yells abruptly.
“YOU FUCKING
ARSEHOLE.”
He instantly drops his hold on me and takes off
running down the street, screaming. “You fucking bastard, I’m going
to kill you-”

Large hands
engulf my cheeks and force my attention to the two piercing blue
spheres centimetres from my face.

“
Maggie, look at me. Just focus on me and breathe, that’s all
you need to worry about. Breathe for me Maggie Mae.” I notice his
chest rise and fall in exaggerated motions and find myself
mimicking his action. “Good, you’ve got this Maggie, just keep
breathing, we’re going to get you to your girls okay?” He nods, so
I nod, he breathes, I breathe.

I don’t think
he’s right, though. I don’t think I’ve got any of this.

His hands are
tacky as they leave my face and fold around my frame, his shoulders
twisting with him when he looks over his shoulder.

“
Jon,
we don’t have time. We’ve got to get going,” he calls, securing his
hold and leading me away.

“
Luke
Andrews?”

I haven’t seen
Luke in years. There was that last weekend we all went down to his
parents’ beach house when… then they moved away.

“
Did
you see that son of a b-” Jon barks. Luke interjects.

“
Not
now Jon.” He shifts to look at me again. “Maggie, honey. I’m going
to help you into Jon’s car, okay? We’re going to go see the girls
right now.”

“
Luke
here is going to sit with you while I drive,” Jon adds, lifting my
chin so I look up at his tear streaked face, making sure I’m
listening. I don’t know what he wants me to say so I just stare up
at him. “You’re fine Maggie Mae. We’re leaving now.”

Luke manoeuvres
me gently, as though I’m the most fragile thing he has ever held,
over the prickly grass to the side of Jon’s car. He settles me onto
the back seat and slides in next to me without ever completely
letting go.

I’m so numb, I
feel like I’m a spectator to someone else’s life that’s panning out
for my morbid viewing. I do as I’m asked without question until we
reverse out of my drive, Jon puts the car into gear and presses
down on the accelerator, causing it to lurch forwards.

“
Wait. Jon, what about Brendan?” I’m all but climbing over
Luke’s lap to get a better look out the tinted window. He
immediately rests a placating hand on my back and presses the side
of his face to the top of my head, drawing me into an embrace. I’m
not sure but I think his cheek’s wet.

Squinting
through the sunshine, I’m relieved to see there are a few people
lifting Brendan from the ground and onto a stretcher. I start to
think maybe I’m wrong; maybe he’s going to be alright after all.
The carers roll him carefully into an ambulance, but close the back
doors gently. No slamming and screeching for him.

“
He’ll meet us there Maggie,” is all Jon offers while he
impatiently drives through the labyrinth that is my
neighbourhood.

JON PULLS ME by
my hand through the hospital’s Emergency Department. He parked his
car with the front half up on the curb, leaving the tail end
protruding over the road, not bothering to remove his keys or close
the door. The ambulances that were once parked in the front of my
home are now sitting in bays to the side of the vast building, the
back doors closed; the vehicles vacant.

Tugging rigidly
on each other’s hands, Jon and I alternate in taking the lead,
frantically searching for my family as we brazenly barge our way
into occupied rooms and tear open curtains to the verbal berating
of the occupants. I’m too distraught to express our regret, but I
hope they will forgive us anyway.

A small voice
carries from behind. A young nurse is chasing after us. I’m sorry
for her, but I’m sorrier for myself at the moment so continue my
frantic search.

I hear Luke’s
deep timbre ask the young girl a string of questions I’m too
distracted to listen to and release Jon’s hand to track down
another corridor as he turns in the opposite direction.

“
Mrs
Cartwright, please stop. Your children are not down there.” This
gets my attention.

I swing around
sharply and glare at the nurse, striding into her personal space.
I’m about to put my hands on her, to shake the information out of
her if I have to, when I’m scooped into a firm embrace, one strong
arm wrapping securely across my waist, the other over my shoulders.
My face is forced to press into a soft black t-shirt that I
remember from minutes ago, yet it feels like years.

“
Calm
down Maggie Mae, we’re going to them now,” Luke says reassuringly
by my ear.

My relief is
instant; I’m going to my family. We’re at the hospital, they’ll get
the treatment they need and everything’s going to be fine. I’m
about to see my husband and my children and everything’s going to
be fine. They’ll get better and we’ll go home and laugh about
‘that Christmas when…’
one day. And everything’s going to be
fine.

“
I
was asked to find you,” the young woman explains, leading us back
in the direction we just came from and down another sterile white
corridor. “You must have entered through a side door, not the main
Emergency entrance. It’s easy to get lost in this
place.”

She’s making
small talk? Seriously?

“
This
way,” she says politely, opening one of two heavy white doors with
a restricted sign painted in red on it. We turn through another
passage, entering another restricted area when I take in the
pandemonium surrounding us.

“
Normally you wouldn’t be permitted in here, but given the
circumstances …” the nurse trails off, assuming I understand what
she is alluding to.

We find
ourselves standing in the entrance of a modest size room with a
litter of empty beds save for two. Teams of organised chaos work
frantically over my girls. Machines beep, instructions are directed
and leads run from everywhere.

It’s once I go
to move forwards that I realise I’m still being held by the same
strong arms and find my body instinctively gravitating in closer,
burrowing in deeper. Jon’s by my other side pressing against me,
his free hand’s running through his choppy dark hair; the same
action Brendon uses when he’s caught in a stressful
situation.

Cursing coming
from my left captures my attention. “Take the boot off for Christ
sake. We need to find where the bleed is.”

I attempt to
step in the direction of the frustrated voice, the pink and purple
roller blade teasing me as it lolls abnormally on the edge of the
discoloured mattress.

It’s
Ella.

My breath
captures sharply when a lean, athletic figure in blue scrubs cuts
into my vision. I’m morosely hypnotized, watching her back twist
and turn while painstakingly unsnapping the buckles. She stands to
one side and shimmies the boot, careful to cause as little harm as
possible. I should be thanking her for taking care with my
daughter, but at the same time I just want her to hurry the hell up
so I can comfort my little girl.

The instant the
skate is completely removed, blood starts teeming all over the
floor, pouring out of Ella’s punctured flesh like someone opened
the flood gates to the Hoover Dam. A guttural sob escapes as the
image burns into my pupils, permanently seared to my
memory.