The Shooting

by Chris Taylor

  He stared at the mess and tried to care, but once again the anger and pain he’d been drowning in ever since she’d called things off overtook him. Long pent-up tears burned behind his eyes and spilled over. With fists clenched, he gritted his teeth against the sob that built up in his chest, but the effort was beyond him. With a tortured gasp, he bent at the waist, and bellowed out his torment, oblivious to the carnage of mess and glass that surrounded him.

  * * *

  Lily pressed herself up against the side of Tom’s front window and put her hand up to her chest in an effort to still her pounding heart. The sight of the man she loved, drunk and angry in his apartment, frightened her. She’d seen him drunk once before, but never angry and the combination turned her blood to ice.

  Memories of her father crashed into her from every direction and she held her hands up over her face and shook her head in an effort to chase them away. Tom wasn’t her father, but right there in the shadows, the distinction didn’t seem to matter. He was a drinker. She’d known that from the start. The fact that he’d made an effort not to drink in front of her didn’t change anything. In his drunken state, he’d turned violent and it was a risk she couldn’t take.

  With her hand now protectively cradling the tiny life inside her, she pushed away from the window and picked her way through the haphazard garden bed that edged the tired scrap of front lawn. Tears ran silently down her cheeks, but she refused to pay them heed. Ever since she’d broken things off with him, she’d been drowning in her guilt, but after seeing him now, she knew she’d made the right decision. Once a drinker, always a drinker. It was safer for her and her baby to stay well away.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Royal North Shore Medical Center—present day

  Tom stared at the tan and navy geometric pattern that made up the carpet in Doctor Slee’s waiting room and tried not to think about what the results of his biopsy might show. The fact that the doctor was concerned enough to even take a biopsy was enough to worry him. With Lily in a coma and Cassie acting out, the last thing he needed was another health crisis. Still, it was better that he deal with it now that he was here. If there were any nasties to be had, treating them sooner was better than later. Everyone knew that.

  If his mom knew, she’d chew his ass, angry that he’d waited so long. Years earlier, she’d had a bout of breast cancer. The family was shocked and worried beyond belief, but she’d gotten treatment early and was lucky to be able to call herself a survivor. It didn’t always turn out like that.

  Tom pulled out his phone to check for messages. He’d turned it on silent while he was with the doctor and he wanted to make sure Lily’s condition hadn’t changed. The screen was comfortingly blank and he sighed softly and clipped it back on his belt. It had been three days since the shooting and still his wife remained unconscious.

  The doctors had assured him earlier that morning as they had every morning that she was doing absolutely fine. The bleeding had stopped, her wounds were healing. So far, infection had been kept away. There was no reason not to expect a full recovery, but she’d do it in her own time. There was nothing they could do to speed the process.

  Their words provided him with comfort, but he still longed to hear her voice. He wouldn’t be completely reassured she was better until she opened her eyes and spoke to him—and smiled and laughed and teased him—just like the Lily of old.

  “Mr Munro, Doctor Slee would like to see you again. She has your test results.”

  The receptionist’s words suddenly registered and Tom blinked and focused on the woman behind the desk. It was the same one he’d spoken to on the phone. Judith Bevan. It was written on her name tag.

  “Um…yes. All right. No problem.” Tom stood and drew in a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was to come. Perhaps he was worrying for nothing? There was always that possibility. With the comforting thought uppermost in his mind, he strode across the carpet and knocked on the doctor’s door.

  “Come in.”

  While his heart pounded out a staccato against his ribcage, Tom schooled his expression into one of calm indifference, not sure which one of them he was trying to impress. Good news or bad, he’d hold his shit together. He was thirty-nine and a veteran police officer, for Christ’s sake. Way old and experienced enough to handle a little bad news. If it was bad news.

  “Mr Munro, please take a seat.”

  “Tom. Call me Tom,” he mumbled and sat. Doctor Slee pushed back a strand of graying hair and then picked up the file in front of her.

  “Okay, Tom. I have the results of your biopsy. I’m afraid it’s not good news. The lump in your left breast is malignant. We’re going to have to operate. The good news is that it hasn’t yet spread to any of the lymph glands.”

  Tom’s mouth went dry at the instant he discovered it was cancer and now he licked his lips with a tongue that felt like sandpaper. His pulse thudded and the sound of blood rushed through his ears, almost drowning out the doctor’s words.

  “What… What happens now?” he managed through a voice he barely recognized.

  “We need to operate and remove the lump. The sooner we do it, the better. In fact, I’d like to put you on my theater list for tomorrow morning. I hope that’s okay with you?”

  Tom nodded, his mind in a whirl at the speed with which things were happening. “Tomorrow morning? I-I guess that will work.”

  The doctor looked at him kindly through pale blue eyes that had seen her fair share of sadness. “It really is important that we remove the tumor as quickly as possible, before it has a chance to spread. I’m sure you understand how much more serious this becomes when it reaches the lymph nodes.”

  Tom nodded again. It was all he could manage.

  “After the surgery, we’ll retest you again. With a bit of luck, you won’t need any other treatment.”

  “You mean, I won’t need chemo?”

  “Not at this stage. We may give you a short course of radiotherapy, just to make sure, but as I said, with the cancer contained to just the one area, more exhaustive treatment isn’t necessary. You’re very lucky you came to see me in time.”

  Tom compressed his lips and didn’t answer, just grateful he hadn’t left it too late. He couldn’t imagine having to go back to his kids and tell them he was dying of cancer.

  “Is there anyone you would like me to call, to explain what’s going to happen?” Doctor Slee asked, her eyes dark with compassion.

  “No, I’m fine. I-I’ll let my family know.”

  “Good. Then I guess I’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow. Have an early dinner and then nothing to eat or drink after seven tonight. I need you to fast for at least twelve hours before the operation.”

  She made a note in the file in front of her and then looked up at him again. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “H-how long does the operation take?”

  “If all goes well, not more than an hour or two. There’ll be some time in recovery afterwards.”

  “Will I have to stay overnight?”

  “Yes, we’d rather you stay in, at least the first night. If all looks fine, you can go home the day after. You’ll feel a bit sore for a few days. Is there someone at home to look after you?”

  Tom lowered his gaze and stared at her cherry walnut desk. “M-my parents are staying with me for a little while. I’m sure they’ll be willing to help out. My…my wife’s in the ICU. She was shot in the abdomen three days ago.”

  Doctor Slee lifted a hand to her mouth and her eyes went wide with shock. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I heard about that school shooting on the news. I had no idea it was your wife.”

  “Yes, well, she…she’s doing okay. I just want her to wake up.” His voice cracked on the last word and he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to contain the emotion that burned behind his eyes.

  The doctor didn’t offer any well-meaning platitudes and for that, Tom was grateful. There was nothing she could say that L
ily’s doctors hadn’t told him and he was sure she was more than aware of it. A few moments later, he dragged in a breath and blew it out on a heavy sigh.

  “You’ve had more than your share of hardships lately, by the sound of it,” the doctor murmured, her voice filled with sympathy.

  “You can say that again.” He offered her a wry grin and she smiled back at him, the action taking years off her face.

  “Do you have any more questions, Tom?” she asked quietly.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll be happy to have it over and done with and not have to worry about it anymore.”

  The doctor nodded and closed his file. “Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget—fasting from seven.”

  “No problem. See you then.” With that, he let himself out and headed next door to the hospital and Lily. He wanted to spend as much time as possible beforehand with his wife. He could only pray that everything would work out all right—for both of them.

  * * *

  Brady Sutton scrolled through the pages of his Snapchat account with a growing sense of hopelessness. On every page, with every comment and picture, kids were talking about what he’d done. Most of them wrote about him with a snigger in their tone. There were too many comments to count that went something like this: ‘How about that kid from Chatswood Elementary who came to school with a gun? What a dickhead.’ The knowledge that he was a laughing stock made him shudder with despair.

  It was one thing for his mom to be disappointed in him, even for his dad to yell and shout, but knowing the kids he went to school with, was bullied by, or played sport with, thought he was a joke was nearly too much to bear. The morning of the shooting, he’d gone into school sure in the knowledge that he was about to right a wrong. Good would prevail over evil. Justice would be done.

  But it hadn’t worked out that way. It hadn’t worked out that way at all. From the very beginning, things hadn’t gone to plan. First, he couldn’t find Ian. Then Mrs Munro had gotten in the way. Now, the other kids were laughing at him. He’d never be able to show his face inside the schoolyard again. They’d have to move and probably to another part of Sydney, maybe even interstate. From what he’d seen on social media, word of his failure had spread to every kid who lived on the north shore.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. He was supposed to come home victorious, just like on his PS4 games and on the shows he watched on television. The bad guys always got what they had coming. The good guy got the girl.

  He flopped over onto his stomach and buried his face into the softness of his pillow. It was way past late. His mom had come in and wished him goodnight hours ago. But he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to sleep since it had happened. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep again.

  Everywhere he turned, there was disbelief and disappointment—in the eyes of his mom, in the voice of his dad. No one bothered to ask him how he was feeling. It was like they’d forgotten that he was disappointed, too. The asshole who had made his life a living hell from the day he’d started school was still walking the halls, a hero. He’d hidden like a girl beneath Mrs Munro’s desk, but nobody cared about that. The fact is, he’d dodged a bullet. Overnight, he was king of the school.

  The very thought of it sickened Brady. His stomach twisted up in knots. He squeezed his eyes so tightly together, lights spun behind his eyelids. He pushed his face even further into the pillow until he found it hard to breathe. He’d failed. He was a failure. A dickhead and a failure.

  His mom could barely bring herself to look at him. Yesterday, she’d spoken to his lawyer on the phone. She’d come to tell him about the conversation and couldn’t even lift her gaze from off the floor. Her eyes were always red and puffy, like she cried every minute of the day. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. Surely, it would be better if he simply went away?

  The thought took hold and gained strength in his mind until he knew what had to be done. A sense of righteousness and power flooded through him. Yes, he knew what had to be done.

  * * *

  Tom stared at his parents across the dinner table and waited for his words to sink in. His mother was the first to recover.

  “How long have you known?”

  “I went to the doctor today. She did a biopsy. I waited a couple of hours for the results.” He shrugged. “She wants to operate tomorrow.”

  His father shook his head in disbelief, but managed a tight nod of acceptance. “At least you found out before it was too late. We can be grateful for that.”

  “How long have you known?” his mom repeated, her voice quiet, but firm.

  Tom stared at her, knowing what she meant. “About the lump?” he asked, in an effort to buy time.

  “Yes, son. About the lump. How long have you known?”

  Tom dropped his gaze and his shoulders slumped. They were his parents. He owed them the truth. “A bit over a year.”

  Renewed shock turned both of them speechless and then anger flooded his mom’s face.

  “A year? You’ve known about a lump in your breast for a year and you’ve only now done something about it? How could you ignore something like that? After what I went through? I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it.”

  She pushed away from the table and stalked toward the kitchen. Tom felt her anger, but he accepted that her outburst was only because she cared. She’d gone through her own terrible battle with breast cancer. To discover her son had ignored a lump in his breast for more than twelve months was more than she could bear. He was just grateful the prognosis was so positive. He didn’t know what he would have done if he’d been given news it was terminal.

  “Your mother’s just worried about you. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  Tom shot his father a thankful smile, but it barely lifted his lips. Still, he appreciated his dad’s attempt to smooth things over.

  “Thanks, Dad. It wasn’t my intention to upset her. I guess… After what happened to her, I was scared to find out what my lump meant. It was stupid, but…” He shrugged, helpless to explain any further.

  “It’s okay, son. You don’t need to explain your actions to me. Go and talk to your mother. She needs you.”

  Tom compressed his lips and nodded. He stood and left his father alone at the table. Cassie and Joe had disappeared long ago—Joe to watch television in his room and Cassie begged off, talking about needing to study for exams.

  He let both of them go without objection. Earlier, he’d made the decision not to tell his kids about his upcoming surgery. If all went to plan, he’d call them tomorrow from the hospital. They didn’t need any extra stress in their lives. Tomorrow would be early enough, after he could give them the good news that he was in the clear. He found his mother in the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  She acknowledged his greeting with the briefest of nods and then rinsed a pile of utensils.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Mom and I’m sorry I didn’t go to the doctor months ago.”

  “Does Lily know about it?”

  “No. It’s only small and I never said anything about it to anyone, apart from Dad.”

  She spun around, her hands still dripping. “Your father knew?”

  “Yes, well, no. Not really. I talked to him when he was unconscious in the ICU last Christmas. I-I told him about the lump. It was the first time I’d mentioned it to anyone. I don’t know if he remembered or if he even heard me.”

  His mom turned back to the sink without comment and continued to stack the dishwasher. Tom collected pots and pans off the stove and began scraping them off into the scrap bowl. He’d give them to the neighbor’s dog after dinner.

  In silence, his mom finished what she was doing and then dried her hands. With a soft sigh, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry for going off at you like that, Tom. It wasn’t fair.”

  Tom set the pan he was holding on the side of the sink and went to her a
nd hugged her hard. He towered over her and weighed more than double. It had been a long time since she’d seen the top of his head.

  “Don’t be sorry, Mom. You have nothing to be sorry about. I was an idiot to sit on it for so long. I should have taken myself off to the doctor the first time I found it. If I hadn’t been such a coward, I would have.”

  Marguerite stared at him, her eyes full of love and understanding. “I know what you mean, son. I’ve been there, too. I wish I could tell you I went to the doctor the very next day after I found my lump, but the truth is, I didn’t. I pretended for at least three or four weeks that it was nothing more than a cyst and it would go away all on its own.”

  Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t known that.

  “See, I was scared, too. I thought I was better off living in hope there was nothing to worry about than knowing for certain there was. I didn’t want to think of the possibilities if I was wrong.”

  She drew in a ragged breath and Tom suddenly realized that, even though the cancer scare had happened years earlier, the memory of it still had the power to affect her. He tightened his arms about her and pressed a kiss against her hair. She shuddered and then drew in a deep breath.

  “Of course, when I finally told your father, he had me in the doctor’s surgery the very next day. You know how things went from there.”

  She pulled away from Tom and offered him a shaky smile. “I waited longer than I should have. If I’d come in sooner, they could have caught it before it spread. I went through hell and back before I was done with it. I guess I was upset that, after seeing what I went through, you could have taken the same risk.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. It was stupid. Like I said, I was an idiot to ignore it.”

  “Yes, well, let’s be thankful it hasn’t turned out like mine. They’ve caught yours in time and I’m glad.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and then spoke to him again, her voice soft.