Stella Makes Good (20 page)

‘
ow are we ever going to get through this?’ Louisa’s dad, Tom, had asked her when he’d rung with the news about Jesse’s accident.

Louisa had been over the question herself dozens of times since he’d called. Now, she was slouched in a smelly hot taxi on her way from Sydney airport to the hospital where Jesse was lying in a coma.

The taxi wound its way through streets clogged with peak-hour traffic. The place felt more familiar than Louisa had expected, as though it had been months not years since she’d left. There were a few more buildings, and certainly more pedestrians and cyclists weaving their way along the roads. Sydney was a clean city, a sunny city, she’d give it that.

She looked down at her nails, which were bleeding and sore. She had chewed them to the quick. She felt numb. What if Jesse died and Louisa never got to say goodbye? They had been close once, best friends, but Louisa hadn’t been part of her sister’s life for a long time. There were phone calls, sure, but that wasn’t the same, was it? Louisa had left family life behind when she bought her ticket to freedom.

What if she hadn’t told her all those things? What if she’d continued to keep them secret? Would Jesse be in this state now?

The guilt was agonising. Louisa could barely face herself, let alone her parents and Jesse. If only she hadn’t had that horrible conversation with Jesse. If only . . .

‘Here do?’ the taxi driver asked.

‘I guess.’

Louisa stood outside the main hospital entrance. To her right, a mix of orderlies and nurses crowded together, smoking, laughing. She inhaled deeply before walking towards the enormous glass doors. When they silently slid open, she hesitated. The anticipation of seeing Jesse in a coma was frightening. She could feel the perspiration trickling down her forehead. It felt like thirty degrees even though it wasn’t yet 9 am.

The antiseptic smell hit her as soon as she walked in. She suppressed the urge to vomit. Standing in the entrance area, she stared at the dull grey carpet, cream walls and a huge painting of an Australian landscape on the wall, with white lilies in a glass vase on a white marble table below it. The flowers were on the turn, their scent more like odour than fragrance.

Louisa was wasting time and she knew it. Avoidance therapy, her analyst called it. But she wasn’t in a hurry to move. Besides, her feet seemed incapable of carrying her towards the reception desk.

‘Louisa?’

She turned to see a tall, slim woman walking towards her. Pretty face.

‘Stella. Stella Sparks, remember?’ the woman said, extending her hand to shake Louisa’s.

Louisa remembered Stella as having dark hair, cut in a neat bob. Now it was much blonder and longer, kind of messy and easy. She still had the same generous smile, though.

‘I’ll take you upstairs if you like,’ she went on. ‘Your mum and dad are waiting. How was your flight?’

‘Long.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m not quite sure,’ Louisa replied. ‘How’s Jesse?’

‘No change, I’m afraid.’ Tears trickled down Stella’s cheeks. ‘But she’s hanging in there.’

Louisa followed her along a corridor lined with breakfast carts and linen trolleys.
Hanging in there
: she repeated Stella’s words in her mind. It had been four days now since the accident. She’d hoped her father had been exaggerating the extent of Jesse’s injuries, but it didn’t seem so.

‘At least she’s been moved to a private room,’ said Stella, as they took the elevator up to the third floor.

When they arrived at Jesse’s door, Stella spoke again. ‘I have to warn you, she’s pretty messed up. I’ll be downstairs at the cafe if you need me.’

She hugged Louisa and walked back in the direction they’d just come. Louisa flinched. Her heart was pounding. Blinking away tears, she took a deep breath, knocked and opened the door. She saw her dad first and fixed her eyes on him. She didn’t want to look beyond. Didn’t want to see her sister. To face reality.

Tom walked over, arms outstretched. ‘It’s been too long,’ he whispered, enfolding her in his arms, his eyes wet with tears.

Louisa had only seen her father cry once. It was beyond painful. He looked so much greyer than when she’d last seen him. And older. Much older.

Dot was sitting in a grey hospital chair leaning against a grey steel hospital bed. A bed that Louisa quickly turned away from. Dot was holding something in her left hand; her right hand extended towards Louisa. Louisa walked over, took it and squeezed hard.

‘You’re here now, thank God.’ Dot took a deep breath. ‘I feel so weak, like He might take me at any moment.’

‘Who, Mum? Who might take you?’

‘You know,’ she replied, looking heavenward. ‘God.’

‘She’s not good,’ said Tom, looking down at Jesse.

Louisa forced herself to look at her sister, too. Once she did, she found she couldn’t turn away. This was real. Jesse was lying in a bed barely a metre from where Louisa stood. Her head was bandaged and her cheeks were bruised and discoloured beyond recognition. Tubes ran from her mouth and nose. The rest of her body was covered with white bedcovers, hidden from view. In addition to the IV pole, there were various machines that beeped and whistled at short intervals. Louisa only knew it was Jesse because her name was printed in large black type on a white cardboard sign stuck to the bedhead.

She closed her eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘Freak car accident,’ started Tom, ‘resulting in—’

‘Severe blunt head injury,’ finished Dot.

‘How?’ Louisa asked.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Dot said. ‘You’re wondering what we could have done to stop her. Why didn’t we do more to help her?’

Louisa hadn’t been thinking that at all. ‘Mum, it was an accident. It was no one’s fault.’

Tears slid down Dot’s face. ‘Jesse was . . . is . . . troubled. You know that. It’s always been there, of course, but lately it’s been getting worse.’

‘Don’t, Dot!’ said Tom. ‘This was an accident, nothing more. Jesse’s a good girl.’

‘Tell me more about the accident,’ Louisa prompted.

‘It seems Jesse pulled over to the side of the road. Stopped her car and then . . .’ Tom wiped away his tears with a damp blue handkerchief. ‘A witness said she accelerated into a gum tree.’

‘What sane person does that?’ Dot asked.

‘Her foot must have slipped,’ Louisa said.

‘That’s what I think happened, too,’ agreed Tom. ‘The way she’s been tapping her foot of late, it makes sense.’

‘So she’s stressed?’ Louisa asked.

This was her fault, no doubt about it. Jesse had found out about Steve, then, on top of that, Louisa had dropped her bombshell. It had been too much for Jesse to cope with.

‘The accident looked suspicious,’ Dot said.

‘For Christ’s sake, you weren’t there, woman.’

‘But the police, Tom—’

‘The police?’ Louisa said. ‘Why are they involved?’

‘The police are investigating,’ Dot said quietly. ‘There were no skid marks . . . ’

Tom shook his head. ‘It’s not true.’

This was unbelievable. There was no way Jesse would have deliberately driven into a tree. She loved her kids too much to do something that reckless. Louisa just didn’t buy it.

‘What were you talking about the other day when she collapsed?’ Dot asked.

‘I can’t remember,’ Louisa lied.

‘Think, Louisa,’ encouraged Tom. ‘It could provide an important clue. Maybe she fainted again behind the wheel.’

‘What with her fainting and foot tapping,’ said Dot. ‘I told you she wasn’t well, Tom.’

Louisa looked at Jesse again. ‘This is the worst thing that could have happened. Jesse, of all people. How are Steve and the kids taking it?’

She was relieved Steve wasn’t here. It was going to be hard facing him, knowing what she did about him and how he’d treated Jesse.

‘You know Steve; stoic, as usual,’ said Tom.

Yeah, right, thought Louisa.

She took a seat on the other side of Jesse’s bed. Wake up, she willed her. For God’s sake, just wake up.

Carly was running through the streets, listening to her iPod and trying not to think about anything except the moment, the pretty gardens, the barking dogs, the other early morning joggers. All she wanted to do was run and keep running, to forget about the last couple of days . . . weeks. Tears streamed down her face as she repeatedly told herself to focus, to push through the sadness and pain. Though she kept running, not even slowing for the many hills in the area, the image of Jesse in her hospital bed, helpless, unconscious, covered in bandages, tubes sticking out of her, filled her mind.

It was all Carly’s fault. That much she knew. The last few days she’d operated on autopilot, not really knowing what to do with herself. She’d burst into tears in the supermarket, composed herself enough to buy bananas, bread and milk, then burst into tears again at the chemist buying Panadol and Vitamin B12. She’d been a mess all weekend and was no better today.

Somehow, she made it back home. She didn’t even realise she was on her street until she was practically at her front door.

Will was eating breakfast. He looked up when she walked into the kitchen. ‘Hey.’

Carly smiled. She was exhausted, but at least she’d run five kilometres. That had to be more productive than lying curled up in bed crying. She flipped on the kettle. ‘How’s my boy?’

‘Okay. Can I have some money? We’re going to the Rocks today.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I’d almost forgotten.’ She could feel herself tearing up again.

Will looked away, choosing to watch the cat destroying his chicken wing instead of his mother’s distress. She knew he didn’t know what to say to make her feel better.

‘You know how I’ve got my learners,’ he said, still staring at Norman.

Carly sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Will. I haven’t been taking you out as much as I should have been.’

‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘We’ve been watching road-safety videos at school, seeing crash sites and stuff. Anyway, with Jesse’s accident, we’re all thinking that maybe sixteen is too young to drive.’

‘I understand what you’re saying, Will, but you’ll be okay. We’ll take it slowly and by the time you’re ready to take your test, you’ll do brilliantly, I’m sure.’

He smiled. She could tell that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

Carly had showered and was figuring out what to wear to the hospital when Brett phoned.

‘How are you doing this morning?’ he asked.

‘Okay. I managed a run.’

‘That’s encouraging,’ he said brightly. ‘Will and I have been worried. You’ve been so exhausted and shaken the last few nights.’

‘I’m doing okay,’ Carly replied. ‘It’s Jesse who’s in trouble.’

With Carly, it was one thing or the other: exercise or alcohol. As much as she’d wanted a glass of wine last night and the night before, she knew she couldn’t. If she had one, she’d end up drinking twenty-one and that scenario was too depressing to contemplate. Instead, she’d focused on sleep and running the last few days, when she wasn’t visiting Jesse.

Last night was the first night she’d been home for dinner since the accident. She, Brett and Will had sat in silence in front of the TV, eating takeaway Thai curries, and she’d fallen asleep soon after
Modern Family
. They made it look so easy on television: even when the characters were facing mayhem, they still managed clean, blow-dried hair, immaculate make-up and, most importantly of all, a happy ending. But at least the show had taken her mind off Jesse for twenty-two minutes.

After she’d hung up, Carly realised she still hadn’t spoken to Brett about Nick. In fact, she’d barely thought about his situation since Jesse’s accident. Not only was she a shocking friend, she was a terrible mother. Guilt swamped her; she could feel it eating away at her insides.

She was reassured to see Stella as soon as she arrived at the hospital.

‘Any news?’ she asked after they’d hugged and were seated in the sunshine near the hospital cafe.

‘Louisa’s arrived. She’s in with Jesse now.’

Carly smiled. ‘Thank God! Her parents will be relieved.’

‘Yeah,’ said Stella. ‘Look, before the accident Jesse told me something about Louisa and Steve.’ Stella proceeded to tell Carly everything she knew.