by John Larkin
I turn back to face Kim when I’d rather be anywhere else. I know what’s coming. We both do.
‘I know you need to be with her. I get that. I truly do. And you are an amazing person because of it. But I need someone who’ll fly across the world to be with me. So if you do go – and I believe you should because she is your best friend – then the wedding isn’t postponed. It’s off.’
It already is.
The problem with leaving your fiancée at your North Sydney apartment at four-thirty in the morning to fly to your stricken best friend’s bedside is that by the time you get down to the street and google flights to Hong Kong on your phone and realise that there isn’t one for another four-and-a-half hours, you can’t then go skulking back up to your apartment and slip back into bed for a couple of hours. You can’t even slink back up and sit at the breakfast bar and have a coffee. Having made such a grand gesture and dramatic departure, I have no choice now other than to follow it through or I’ll look and feel like a complete idiot.
Fortunately it’s only a short walk to the train station. Unfortunately I have about a thirty-minute wait until the trains start running. It gives me time to think about the decision I’ve made, and what shocks me is that my decision doesn’t come as a surprise. Have I always known, deep down, that Lisa is more than a friend?
By the time I get to the Cathay Pacific sales desk at the airport, some residual memory – as well as the lanterns and dragons they have decorating the desk – reminds me that it’s only a couple of days until Chinese New Year, meaning that quite possibly the only way I’ll be going to Hong Kong today is by renting a canoe.
‘Kung hei fat choy,’ I say to the sales clerk.
‘Good morning, sir. How may I help you?’
‘I need to get on the next available flight to Hong Kong.’
She pulls the sort of face that makes me wonder if I should start work on that canoe. Still, she goes through the pretence of checking seat availability.
‘I’m sorry, sir. We’re fully booked today. Chinese New Year.’
‘When’s the next available –’
‘I could waitlist you.’ She checks her screen again. ‘But there are already twenty people ahead of you.’
I try the sympathy card, knowing that it’s next to useless. ‘My friend’s in hospital, you see, and it doesn’t look good. And I know it’s no one’s fault, certainly not Cathay’s, but is there anything you can do?’
She taps her computer again, perhaps looking to see if there’s anything under the Cathay Pacific ‘Friend’s had an accident and probably won’t make it’ special reserved-seating clause.
‘There are a few seats still available in business class if you have the means.’
This lights me up. ‘Oh, that’s brilliant. Yes, please. Get me on this flight. Whatever it takes. First class if I have to.’
‘Don’t you want to know how much it costs?’
I shake my head. ‘She’s my best friend. I don’t care how much.’
The sales clerk takes my credit card and smiles at me. ‘So she really is in hospital?’
‘Yeah. Of course. I wish she wasn’t, but I wouldn’t lie about something like that.’
‘You’d be amazed what people will say and do to get on a flight.’
She processes my credit card and hands me the receipt. I look down at the charge, preparing for a serious cringe and knowing full well that my English teacher’s salary is about to take a massive hit. ‘Er, I think there must be some mistake. This is the economy rate, surely.’ I point to the charge.
‘Oops,’ says the sales clerk with mock shock. ‘Have a pleasant flight, Mr O’Malley.’
I look at her and am practically speechless. Because of the doom and gloom thrown up by the nightly news, you sometimes forget how wonderful people actually are. ‘May flights of angels sing you to your rest,’ I say, then remember that that’s the sort of thing you say to someone when they are dying, or at least when they were dying in the Elizabethan period, ‘and I mean that in the strictest non-celestial sense.’
No matter how comfortable Cathay Pacific business class actually is (and it is pretty bloody comfortable) at thirty-five thousand feet, you are kind of isolated from the world. I don’t know if Lisa is still in a coma, if she’s alive or dead. Unlike Lisa, I’m not religious, but I do find myself praying that she will hang in there. That she finds the strength to fight. To live. And if God needs to take someone early to balance the books or whatever, then let it be me. She doesn’t deserve this. There was that time years ago when I nearly called it quits on the train platform anyway, when I almost gave up my life willingly, so carelessly, so recklessly, so cheaply, so pointlessly. But I paused. And I’ve had a wonderful – what is it – eight plus years, since that day. Bonus years. Amazing years that I wouldn’t have traded for the world. Years I would now happily trade for Lisa’s life.
Being on a long-haul flight, especially a morning one where you can’t get hammered at least until it’s midday somewhere, you’re kind of left alone with your thoughts. And after offering my life for Lisa’s, my mind turns to those people that I would die for.
Kim. Although she didn’t believe me, if there’s one word to sum up Kim it would be ‘perfection’. So drop-dead gorgeous that she paid her way through uni modelling. She is a truly wonderful and intelligent person and I am (was) lucky to have her in my life. But I pretty much left her at the altar to be with my married friend who may already be dead. Now that I think about it, there was something missing from our relationship. And I’m not sure if that something wasn’t me.
Mum. Since the divorce, she has wanted for neither attention nor company but seems to be at her happiest when she’s on her own. She travels a lot for both business and pleasure. She and Kate still live together, while Kate finishes uni, and she’s still my hero. The best mum anyone could ever have. Ever. She’s not just my mum, she’s my friend, and I am so happy I was able to spare her the lifetime of agony that my suicide would have rained down on her. She deserves better and because of my pause she has it.
Kate. She recently finished her honours degree in biology (big shock there) and is now studying for her PhD in neuroscience so she can finally understand or dissect her own brain, I imagine. When it comes to academics, she kind of makes me look like a sea monkey – and I’m currently doing my master’s in English literature. As far as I’m aware, she’s only had one serious-ish relationship, and that was with a guy (‘Donga’, if you can credit it) who worked on a fishing trawler. Watching them together (and they are still together as far as I’m aware) is kind of like watching Madam Curie dating Fred Flintstone. Donga had a thing for neck tattoos, the Southern Cross – his ute was covered in stickers of them – and a strong belief that the only degree worth having was awarded by the university of life. Seriously, holding a conversation with Donga on anything other than fishing, engines, football (rugby league) and refugees (he held some pretty strong views there until Mum shut him up one Sunday lunch) is like trying to communicate with toast.
Dad. He moved to New York and actually married Mindy (Bindy, Cindy, Windy) who is now – hold onto your stomach – pregnant. I started spending time with them because part of Dad’s package to relocate to New York was six-monthly visitation trips for his children. (Though before I became engaged to Kim, I would insist on his paying for the triangle – Sydney, New York, Hong Kong, Sydney – so that I could catch up with Lisa.) Dad eventually bowed to societal pressure (well, me and Mum) and either shaved off or melted his hair and now sports the shorn-down look. Just as I thought, we do work better as adults, and though we still haven’t been fishing, I really do like spending time with him.
Lisa. We lost touch for a little while in our early twenties when we started seeing other people but reconnected after she got married, when she started emailing me again. She started studying languages like Susanne had but added on nursing when she realised she could combine the two. Lisa’s husband, Gary, works in finance. Just why
she married him is a complete mystery to me. They met through their church and my guess is that he represented safety for her. Boring to the point at which you would seriously consider throttling him rather than hear him utter one more word on the subject of derivatives or the share price index (whatever the hell derivatives and the share price index are), Lisa’s husband has the emotional intelligence and warmth of a lump of wood. Spending time with him is about as interesting as watching a four-hour instructional DVD on basket weaving. God knows what Lisa was thinking. On one of my trips, shortly after they were married, they took me out to dinner. Gary had recently been on one of those corporate personal development courses and so he spent the evening regaling us on how he could cure misery and depression. The secret, he maintained (and the alarming thing was that he was deadly serious), was to draw a smiley face on one of your fingers and if people started to get you down, you simply hold up your smiley-face finger and everyone would fall about laughing at the sheer side-splitting hilarity of it all. When the evening was finally over, I wanted to hold up my finger to Gary, only it didn’t have a smiley face on it. I was disappointed with Lisa for settling when she could have had anyone.
When we said goodnight outside the restaurant and Lisa gave me a kiss and a hug, Gary said, ‘Steady on there, Declan. She’s my wife.’ I then had to endure the agony of watching them stroll off with Gary’s arm wrapped around Lisa’s shoulder.
And that thought, that image, plagues me for the remainder of the flight. The best thing I ever did in my life was pausing on the station that day. The worst thing I ever did was letting Lisa go.
Susanne is just emerging from Lisa’s room when I arrive. She’s shocked to see me, which is not surprising, I suppose, given that in our hasty exchange on the phone this morning I neglected to tell her that I was coming.
Susanne leads me towards a small waiting room that is just along the corridor.
‘What’s the latest?’
Susanne asks me if I want a coffee. When I decline she makes one for herself.
‘The good news is that she’s out of danger.’ Susanne’s voice cracks. I can see that there’s more to come. I help her into a seat and finish making her coffee.
‘And the bad news?’
‘She’ll never walk again.’
Now I need to sit down. I want to scream at the injustice of it all but there’s no one to whom or nowhere I can direct my anger so I just have to choke it down for Lisa’s sake. For Susanne’s.
‘She also lost the baby.’
‘She was pregnant?’ I reply, stating the bloody obvious.
Susanne nods. ‘It was only a few weeks. I guess I’m not going to be a grandmother after all.’
I gently rub Susanne’s back.
‘Is Gary in there with her?’ I gesture towards Lisa’s room.
‘He’s at work.’
‘What the …?’
‘Reckons he had a meeting that he couldn’t get out of. Said it was pointless him being here while she was unconscious. Wants me to call him if there’s any change.’
‘Oh, so he can get out of this meeting.’
‘I know, Declan,’ says Susanne. She takes a sip of coffee. ‘He’s a jerk. But he’s her jerk.’
‘And has there been any change?’
‘She came round just a minute ago. I was coming out to phone Gary when I ran into you.’
‘Does she know? About not being able to walk?’
Susanne nods. ‘How on earth is she going to cope, Declan? She loves her work. Lives for it. How can she reach the beds and look after her patients in a wheelchair? Before she fell pregnant, she was even thinking of going back to uni and studying to become a doctor.’
Susanne is thinking too far ahead. ‘Let’s get her through this first. Then we’ll see what she can do. One step at a time.’ I cringe at my clumsy wording but fortunately Susanne is too caught up in her thoughts to have processed it.
‘Would you like to see her?’
‘Is she up to visitors?’
‘She’s resting, but I know seeing you will do her a world of good.’
Susanne and I walk back along the corridor to Lisa’s room. ‘She’s always talking about you.’ She stops and looks at me. ‘You want my opinion?’
I don’t think I have much choice.
‘I don’t believe in destiny, but if ever two people were supposed to be together, it was the two of you. God knows why you let it go. Now look at her.’ Susanne has tears cascading down her face, anger in her eyes. ‘I blame you, Declan.’
What?
‘You’d both been through hell and were drawn to each other because of it. You saved each other, but you stuffed it up. You both did. You let it go and now it’s all gone to hell.’
We arrive at Lisa’s room. Susanne stops, composes herself as best she can and wipes her face. ‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, and gives me a hug. ‘Just needed to vent.’
I hate that she’s right.
‘Hey, baby doll,’ says Susanne quietly. ‘Look who I found lurking around the corridor.’
Lisa opens her eyes and looks at me. Despite what’s happened to her she smiles. My heart quickens at seeing her lying there immobile. I want to crawl in beside her, spoon her, and never let her go.
‘Declan. What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, you know. Just passing. Saw your light on.’
I walk over to her bed. Given her condition, I don’t know what I can and can’t do. I kiss her cheek and taste the salty tang of grief. I sit down on the chair next to her bed and hold her hand, interlocking our fingers like old times before … before it all went to hell.
Susanne holds up her mobile. ‘I’ll just go and call …’
‘No!’ snaps Lisa. ‘I don’t want him here.’
‘Lisa.’
‘Please, Mum.’
‘Darling. He has a right to know about … things.’ It’s too big to say.
When Susanne goes, Lisa turns away from me to hide her fresh tears. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be getting married today.’
I shake my head.
She turns back to face me when I don’t say anything. ‘Oh, Declan. I ruined your wedding day. I’ve ruined everything.’
‘It wasn’t you. It wasn’t working. We saw it just in time. Dodged a bullet, really.’
There’s a long silence.
‘I’m going to be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My baby’s gone … I don’t want to live, Declan.’
I squeeze her hand. ‘It’s awful at the moment but the pain will pass.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve been down this path, remember? When I thought I’d lost you all those years ago. I didn’t want to live then, but I made myself push on. And look at the times we’ve had – the times I’ve had – since. You have to give it time. You have to pause. The sun will smile on you again, babe. The good moments are just over the horizon. That’s a promise.’
‘Declan,’ says Lisa.
‘Yeah?’
‘You just called me “babe”.’
‘Sorry,’ I reply. ‘Slip of the tongue.’ I’ve been doing that quite a bit today.
Lisa squeezes my hand. ‘No. I liked it. Reminds me of how things used to be.’
‘Rest now, Lisa,’ I say. ‘You need to regain your strength.’
‘For what?’ she says.
‘So you can get back to …’ I trail off. I don’t know her life. Not really.
‘Back to my life?’ she asks. ‘What life? My life’s over, Declan. All I am now is a burden.’
‘You ever heard of Erik Weihenmayer?’ I don’t even wait for her to reply. ‘Completely blind but he climbed Everest.’
‘Good for him.’
‘Anne Frank. Holed up in a wall with her family, hiding from the Nazis. Wrote one of the biggest-selling books of the twentieth century. Jean-Dominique Bauby. Locked-in syndrome. Could only move his left eyelid. Managed to blink a book – The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.
And it strikes me that Stephen Hawking has done pretty well for himself. Even appeared on The Simpsons and The Big Bang Theory.’
‘I know you’re making a point but I –’
‘Your life’s not over, Lisa. It’s just taken a different direction.’ I’ve just decided that tonight, when visiting hours are over, I’m going to go out and buy The Diary of Anne Frank, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, A Brief History of Time, and Erik Weihenmayer’s autobiography if he has one, and I’m going to sit by her bed and read them to her. One after the other. And then, when she’s ready, I’m going to take her shopping for a wheelchair …
I’ve overstepped. It’s not my role to do any of that. I lost that right when she said ‘I do’ to Gary.
As if reading my thoughts, Lisa squeezes my hand again. ‘When he comes, I want you here. Mum, too. I don’t want to be left alone with him.’
‘Why?’
‘Please say you’ll stay. Promise me.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. I promise, babe.’
I stroke Lisa’s forehead until she drifts off to sleep. I’m tired myself so I shuffle the chair a little closer to the bed and lean back and close my eyes as the minutes, the hours, the years just drift away.
‘What do you think you’re doing holding my wife’s hand?’
I open my eyes not having a clue where I am. I’m obviously holding someone’s wife’s hand and her husband isn’t at all happy about it. I kind of get it and so I release my grip.
I remember where I am. And although I’ve just let go of Lisa’s hand, she refuses to let go of mine. She squeezes even tighter, so I squeeze right back.
Susanne comes in after Gary, obviously having heard his rant. ‘Relax, Gary. It’s only Declan.’
Gary turns on Susanne. ‘If anything happens to him, I’ll kill her.’
I don’t understand why he’s being protective of me, and then it dawns on me. He’s talking about their baby. He doesn’t know that Lisa has had a miscarriage. Lisa squeezes my hand even tighter.
Susanne glares at Gary. She has fire in her eyes. ‘If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.’