by Rachel Dove
He had nothing to go back to really. His garden would be too much for him now. He wouldn’t even have his trips to the sandwich shop anymore. His car was a write-off, and given his current state, he could imagine the DVLA wouldn’t be too pleased to hear he was back on the road. He’d be stuck in the house, and that didn’t interest him anymore. When he thought of home he thought of the dread it managed to evoke in him even now. He didn’t want that life, so it was time to just shuffle off. He’d done what he said he would. He’d raised their son to adulthood. He would understand, one day. Maybe. Or maybe he would just repeat the pattern. Maybe he’d be in his house all alone one day, wondering why he hadn’t said yes to more things. The thought of that made Frank want to cry all over again. Looking down at his hand, he saw that he was half clenching his fist. He focused on it, thinking back to what made his hand curl in reflex. Luke. The thought that he would be alone, like Frank, but worse. He pictured Luke in their house, rotting away with memories of his long dead parents all around him. His fist clenched a bit tighter. There, he could do it. He just didn’t want to. They should just discharge him, give the bed to someone who wanted the chance to live.
He heard a commotion outside the door, and for a second thought he’d heard Marilyn. Maybe he wasn’t as awake as he thought. Good, sleep is good. Take me now, Mr Sandman.
‘Dante, come on love, my lad’s at the shop, and the new shop girl rocked up in a low-cut top this morning. I want to know that the place will still be standing when I get back. Has he said anything yet?’ Dante’s voice was deep, but muffled outside the door, and he heard Marilyn huff and tut loudly. ‘The stubborn bugger, I tell you. I will deck him one of these days!’
Frank laughed and turned it into a cough. The voices outside stopped, and the door opened.
‘Good morning, Mr Sunshine!’ Dante trilled, his legs entering the room half a minute before his smiling head. Marilyn trotted him after him, a tablet in a black case in her hands. ‘How are we this fine Saturday morning?’
‘Not time,’ he pushed out, pointing with his finger square at Marilyn. Her eyes widened, and Dante flashed her a warning look. Yes yes, the old dog learned a new trick. I also know my ABCs. He turned back to the window.
‘Well, Marilyn here has special permission. She has brought someone who wants to talk to you.’
Frank turned to the door, but it was closed. ‘Not time,’ he said, feeling like he was showing them the whites of his eyes. He didn’t want any bloody visitors. He wasn’t even dressed. It wouldn’t be Luke anyway.
‘Well, this visitor has a pretty busy schedule these days.’ She brought the tablet over, pulling open the case and clicking on an app. ‘Just give me a second.’ She frowned, and lifting up the sleeve of her top, she squinted at some writing on her arm. The woman’s as nutty as ever. Frank laughed just once, and she studiously ignored him. Dante left the room, and when Frank looked, there was no one outside. What was this, a pointing game or something? He’d watched enough kids’ TV growing up. He wasn’t about to follow a C-bloody-beebies phonics program. The app popped up, and she rested the tablet up on its stand, on his overbed tray, facing Frank. Frank looked at the screen, and a call popped up. Quick as a flash, Marilyn pressed the button, and the screen went white. A pure brilliant white, with a bluish hue.
‘Are we on?’ a voice asked. Frank’s eyes welled up. His lips pressed together as best they could now, and his lower one trembled. My son. My boy. My life. Marilyn leaned forward into the tablet, and she spoke into it as if she was an air traffic controller.
‘We can see you! Go ahead!’
‘Dad,’ the voice began. ‘I know you told me to go away, and carry on with my life, but when I went back to get your paperwork, I found Mum’s list, and the plans.’ Frank swallowed hard, and his eyes never left the white of the screen. It shook slightly, and he realised that his son was holding the camera. ‘I get why you never told me about it. I would have wanted to do it all, obviously, and you were scared. I get that now. I think you’re still scared. We both lost Mum, but you gave up too, Dad. I let you give up, in a way, cos I didn’t know any better. I never really knew the Frank you were when Mum was here. You’ve got to fight Dad. Marilyn, he still listening? His blood pressure okay?’ Marilyn was tearing up, and her voice broke when she laughed. ‘He’s okay.’ She smoothed Frank’s hair, and he flicked his eyes to her. ‘Keep watching love.’ Her touch was unexpected, unwanted even, but he felt a little jolt when her hand made contact. Maybe she wasn’t that irritating. She did smell nice too.
Frank turned his eyes back to the screen, and the white changed. The camera zoomed out, and there, standing right in front of a snow-covered mountain, was his boy, clad in skiwear, a big smile on his flushed happy face. Frank felt a sob block his throat. He looked just like his mother.
‘The Sommersbys are in France Dad!’ Luke shouted, and a woman laughed in the background. ‘I am skiing, the first thing on Mum’s list. Second, enter a competition. I entered the newbie challenge today! Hans says hello by the way.’
Frank muttered, ‘I’ll kill him’ slowly under his breath, and Marilyn grabbed him by the chops and landed a quick smacker on him. Frank spluttered, but not for long.
‘Keep going Luke, he’s moaning!’
Luke laughed, and looked intently at the camera. Making a ‘come here’ gesture with his hands, he said, ‘Come here woman.’ The camera shook for a second, Luke standing there with a huge grin on his features.
‘Come on!’
The camera moved from side to side again, saying no and he chuckled.
‘Chicken,’ he challenged the person holding the camera, and the camera shook with laughter.
‘He looks happy,’ Marilyn whispered in his ear, and Frank nodded, a tear falling down his cheek.
‘Come on, don’t keep me waiting!’ Luke said again. His face was lit up, Frank noticed. He’d never seen him looking so full of life.
The camera was still shaking.
‘Yes!’ he insisted.
The camera repeated the motion. Luke laughed, and put out his arms wide.
‘Come to me now, or lose me for ever!’ The camerawoman groaned, but the screen showed she was trudging through the snow towards him. She flicked the camera down once and they could see she was wearing a pair of skis and laughing her head off whilst telling Frank’s son exactly what she thought of him. Luke was laughing too, and taking the camera, he turned the image till the two of them were standing in the frame. Frank gasped, and Luke nodded his head slowly, his smile broadening as he saw this girl blush.
‘Yep Dad, you guessed it. I met a girl.’
‘Ice?’ Frank asked, and Rebecca laughed.
‘Ice Rebel, that’s me! Retired of course, apart from teaching your son how to ski with Hans. Hello Mr Sommersby!’ Luke was gazing down at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck, and Frank recognised the look. It matched the expression on his own wedding photo. The tears fell again, and Frank started to weep. The faces on the screen fell, and Luke turned the camera away, till it was just him. Frank could see that Rebecca was hugging him from behind. He had someone. He wasn’t alone, he was out there. He was doing it. Frank couldn’t stop crying.
‘Sorry Dad, too much? Marilyn, get Dante, get Dante. Shit.’
Marilyn went to run for Dante, but Frank’s hand moved. Slowly and shakily, whilst Marilyn watched in awe, he lifted the fingers of his strongest hand, fingers to his lips, and putting them on his heart, he blew his open hand at the screen. Luke started to cry then. Rebecca took the phone and held it in her hand, whilst Luke cried on her shoulder. Catching it, Frank watched as the Ice Rebel placed it over her heart and Luke’s.
‘Proud,’ Frank said, punching his hand against his heart now. ‘Proud … of you, son.’ Luke turned to the screen, Rebecca kissing his cheek as he wiped his tears away.
‘If I can do this, Dad,’ he motioned around him at the scenery, flashing his dad another view of their ski clad feet, close together, ‘you can t
oo. Number two on the list, Dad. That’s one that never quite gets done. You remember it?’ Frank nodded, pressing his fingers as close to the screen as he could without touching it, toward his son’s determined face.
Number two: we must be daring.
‘Good. I get why you sent me away too, now. Number three on the list. We must protect the things we love.’ Frank’s face crumpled a little, but he nodded again, his fingers moving over the screen to be near to his only child, the song of his heart. Luke looked relieved, choked even, but then he pulled himself together and Frank saw a fire in him that he’d not seen before. Another genetic trait from his mother, no doubt. He wanted to see more. ‘Now do it. I’ll speak to you soon, okay? The tablet is for you, Marilyn picked it up from the shop for me. Ring me any time. Love you, Dad.’
Luke put his arm around Rebecca, and she melted into his side, smiling at Frank. The Ice Rebel, with his son. Who would have thought? At first, Frank had wondered whether his mind was playing tricks.
‘Bye Mr Sommersby, pleased to meet you!’
Frank waved at the screen, making Luke laugh. ‘He can’t believe it’s you,’ he teased her, and she poked him in the chest.
‘Shut up you,’ she admonished, rolling her eyes. Just like Luke did. The two of them were like peas in a pod. It made Frank’s heart swell in his chest.
‘Bye Dad.’ Luke smiled, and the screen went off. Frank sat and stared at it for a long moment, touching his fingers to the spot where his son’s face had just been.
‘Love you,’ Frank said, and turning to Marilyn, who was weeping like a washerwoman, he opened his mouth and said something he’d never said before. It took him a while, and a couple of words were tricky to get out, but Marilyn just waited patiently, her face lighting up with every new word he uttered.
‘Get me out of this bed, Marilyn, I need to get out of here.’
Marilyn did a jumping twirl on the spot and running to the door, she yelled for Dante as if she was on fire.
‘It worked, Dante, it only friggin’ worked! Get me the washcloth too, he stinks to high heavens!’
Frank groaned, and looking at the tablet once more, he smiled. His little Luke, out in the world, just like his mother wanted all along. Now that would be worth sticking around a bit longer for. That was worth getting out of this bed and getting well for. He wanted to stick around. He hadn’t broken his son, he hadn’t made him a replica of himself. Frank realised that all along, Luke had been a mixture of the best of both parents. He had their work ethic, their love of routine, but more importantly, the same sense of adventure his mother had. Frank could see it now, as plain as day. He’d done his job. He’d raised their son, and now he was out in the world to be enjoyed. Reaching for the paper, he dragged it closer towards him. Flicking it to the sports section with a slow and shaky hand and a fair bit of cursing under his breath, he waited for his meddlesome and annoying friends to come back. He had a lot of work to do, and he’d wasted enough time already. He owed it to his son, and his late wife. Not only that, he owed it to himself.
Marilyn half ran into the room with a bowl and what looked like a car sponge. It was huge. Frank looked across from his paper, right at her, and smiled. It was lopsided, and he felt as though he might dribble a little from the corners, as he sometimes did, but Marilyn’s returning smile told him that his attempt wasn’t half bad.
‘Ready?’ she asked cautiously. Frank could see her grip tighten around the sponge.
‘Ready,’ he said. ‘But only Dante washes my dangly bits.’
Marilyn’s laughter rang out into the hall, and Dante smiled as he passed, wheeling a patient back to their room. These were the moments, he thought to himself as he went on his way. These were the moments that made his job worth all the struggles.
*
Rebecca headed to the ski lift after the call had ended, wanting to give Luke a minute to recover. His dad had looked pretty beaten down at the start of the call, but when he’d made that motion, that gesture of love to Luke, her heart had nearly stopped. That was personal to the two of them, she could tell by Luke’s reaction. The fact that Luke had done it to her, it meant even more now. She couldn’t be reading into it, could she? He didn’t seem the type to have ‘moves’ like that. Robbie moves. She felt a bit panicked at first, that he’d shown that to her after a week of knowing each other, but none of this week was average. She was liking him more and more each day. The whole call she’d had a lump in her throat, a snowball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Not for her, but for Luke. She knew how much this call meant to him, how well it needed to go. Luke’s dad had given up since the stroke, and sending Luke away was obviously something that he’d struggled with. The love between them made her think of her own mother, and the call she’d been putting off herself. Not all the paper grenades had been detonated yet either. She still had the competition entries to defuse. Luke had entered the day before, and he was so excited about it.
They hadn’t spent a night apart since that first night, and today was the baby shower and the party after. Everything was ready, all the gifts had been delivered to the venue. The café was staffed for the day, and Rebecca had the weekend off. A whole weekend of skiing and seeing friends, with her hot new … lodgemate. Lover? Bunk buddy? Eugh. They didn’t need a label, it was what it was. ‘Not even known him a week but can’t get enough’ didn’t have a box to tick next to it on any form. ‘It’s complicated’ sounded like simplification. He’d showed her his list, and his plans, his worries about his dad just giving up. She’d shown him her scars, her emotional ones, and the physical ones. He’d ran his fingers along the surgeons’ handiwork, the neat scars that showed how they put her pelvis back together, piece by piece. What he didn’t know or hadn’t thought of, was that people were waiting for her comeback. Expecting it even. Hell, Robbie assumed she was back on the circuit. The rumour mill was a good one, even if the shit they were peddling had no substance at all.
‘Well, that went well!’ He’d caught her up, a little less unsteady on his feet since the days with Hans, and the nights with her. She’d had him up on the sofa cushions, whilst she threw things at him. He had to keep his balance, his legs and arms ready. It was hilarious, but it worked. He didn’t fall half as much now. It was less funny, but safer. His bum cheeks were still bruised enough. ‘Did you see his face? He couldn’t believe it. I really think that this is going to be the turning point.’
Rebecca smiled, but she didn’t reply. If Frank was really going to fight to recover now, Luke would absolutely want to be beside him to do it. Once the comp was done, so were they. As much as she liked Frank already, she found that she couldn’t truly be happy about the thought.
They waited for the lift, holding hands as they walked to the next available one. Sitting down, they both looked out at the view as they headed up.
‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ She was looking out at the scenery around her. Luke looked at her.
‘Sure is.’ He squeezed her hand, their gloves knitted together as they neared the top. ‘Thank you. I think my dad thinks I might be punching above my weight though in the girlfriend department.’ He chuckled. ‘I’m pretty sure we have a longer conversation coming about that one.’
She didn’t refute his wording, she just let it hang there. Girlfriend. She hadn’t been anybody’s anything in a while. Did he mean to say that?
‘And another one, about the fact that I just called you my girlfriend, and you said nothing. You didn’t try to stab me, or push me off this thing straight to my death.’ He raised his hands around his body when she turned to him. ‘Oops, spoke too soon. Tell my dad I tried!’
She pulled his hands down. ‘I didn’t say anything to give you chance to take it back.’
‘Pfft.’ He pushed out of his lips. ‘Not a chance. I think that’s what we are, isn’t it? I just wanted to slip it out there, not make it a thing.’
‘But a thing is something that comes up and makes people need to have a conversation.’
&
nbsp; ‘That sounds like a penis. Or a molehill.’ He jabbed his finger at the mountains, making the chair shake. ‘Or a mountain!’ He clicked his fingers together, or tried to, at least, whilst gloved up. ‘I didn’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill. I just wanted to see what you thought.’
‘So where does the penis come into all this?’
‘Ahh!’ He raised one finger. ‘Well, that depends on your answer.’ He looked down at his groin. ‘Doesn’t it, little Wilbur?’
Rebecca had no words. He laughed again. ‘Don’t take the mick. I was raised single handed by a man, he had his ways of getting around awkward words and conversations. He still mutes Bake Off when they say “moist”.’ Rebecca’s lip twitched. He’d get on well with Hans and Holly.
‘Please tell me,’ she asked seriously, ‘what part of all this is supposed to make me want to own up to being associated with you?’
They neared the top, and jumped off, skiing off to the side.
‘All of it! Did you not hear the little Wilbur part?’
‘Please, please, never say that again.’
‘I won’t, if you’ll just say you’ll be my girlfriend. I know that sounds like a twelve-year-old thing, but we are going to this baby shower today. People are going to ask me why I keep kissing you. I don’t think “I met her through a hairy pen pal” sounds good. I just want to know what to call you when they ask.’
Pulling down her visor, she gave herself a minute. Looking down the slope, she felt the usual thrill she had always felt before her accident. She looked back at him then got ready to push off.