Pieces Of Us: Missing Pieces Series, Book Three

by Walker, N. R.

  “Justin doesn’t remember the last time we saw you,” I explained. “But I do. I remember the names you called him, the names you called me. I remember how you told us we were going to hell and how disgusting we are. He doesn’t remember.” I poked my finger into my chest. “But I fucking do.”

  Juss frowned at me. “You said she didn’t say nice things. Is that what she said?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t want to upset you. And I’m sorry, Juss.”

  She pursed her lips and sniffed. “I was angry. And I didn’t say it like that.”

  I stared at her, stunned that she’d deny it.

  “I remember when you told me those things when I came out, and again before I moved to Darwin,” Juss said. “So if Dallas says that’s what you said another time, then I believe him.”

  She cleared her throat and spoke like she didn’t care about what Justin had just said. “Well, I was hoping we could get past that.”

  I realised then what she was doing here. Or, more to the point, why she was here.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I said, disgusted. “I want you to leave.”

  She shot me an affronted look. “I’m allowed to speak to my son.”

  I ignored her and turned to Justin. “Juss, she wants your money.”

  “My what?” he asked quietly.

  “Your money. She read the newspaper article that said there was an undisclosed sum of money from the insurance. That’s why she’s here.”

  Juss stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and sadness. He was already tired, and now this was gonna send him into a spin. I could see it in his eyes.

  He turned to her and the bitch didn’t even try to dispute it. “I just thought we could chat, Jussy.”

  I fucking bristled again. “Don’t even fucking start, and get the fuck out of my shop.”

  “You can’t make me leave. I’m allowed to talk to my son.”

  “You didn’t want to speak to him in the last five years or the two years before that. Or before that. Or when he was lying in a hospital bed, close to dying. Where were you for any of his surgeries or physiotherapy or his weekly medical appointments?” My hands were clenched into fists. I wanted to say this was my shop and if I was so inclined to drag her out by her ear, I fucking would. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “So what makes you think he wants to speak to you now?”

  Janet glared at me, then that sneer was back. “So you’ve got your grubby hands on it. You took control of his money, didn’t you?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “Justin has full control of all his finances.”

  “Stop fighting,” Juss whispered.

  That stopped me cold, and I looked him over. He was pale and his eyelids were heavy. “Sorry, Juss,” I mumbled, taking his arm. “You need to lie down. And to take some meds. I’m sorry, baby. Let’s get you upstairs.”

  “Jussy,” Janet began, but not out of concern. God, this woman was the worst.

  “The money is for me,” Juss said quietly. “To pay for a nursing home or a care place in twenty years when the brain damage gets worse, so Dallas doesn’t have to look after me anymore.”

  I stared at him; my heart dropped to my feet. “What? Justin, no. I told you that won’t happen. Doctor Chang said this morning—”

  “But what if it does? There’s a chance it will.” He shrugged and looked so damn sad. Then he turned back to his mother, his speech slow. “I have trouble with my brain and will have medical . . . things for the rest of my life.”

  She paused a long moment, thinking. “So there is money . . .”

  “I need to go,” Juss whispered, turning to me.

  “And I need to talk to you,” she snapped back.

  I glared at her. “You need to leave.”

  She shot to her feet and thumped her fist on the table. “Justin, you owe me! I raised you, you cost me—”

  I stood as well and yelled over the top of her. “How dare you!”

  She flinched but then raised her finger at me. “I’ll have a lawyer—”

  Justin got to his feet. “Get out!”

  She stared, and I did too. I’d never heard Justin yell. Ever.

  “I said get out,” he repeated, louder this time. “Get out, get out, get out!” He screamed at her, and she took a step back. “Get out!” Justin threw his walking cane at her like a javelin. It missed her head and clanged against the wall behind her, but the message he gave was a direct hit.

  Flustered and shaken, she clutched at her handbag and stammered threats of calling the cops as she scurried out the door. She was still yelling obscenities as she walked to her car, as Davo and Sparra stood, staring, open-mouthed.

  But Juss . . . he was pale and sweating as he put his hand to his head and swayed on his feet. I caught him before he fell and swept him up in my arms. “I’ll get you upstairs, baby.”

  There was no resistance in him, no reaction, no . . . anything.

  I carried him up the stairs and, inside, took him straight to bed. I pulled his shoes off and drew the doona over him, and his only reaction was to put the heel of his hand to the side of his head.

  Fuck his mother to hell.

  I ran and got his meds and had to help him sit up to sip the water to wash the tablets down. Just like those first days in hospital, he was listless, docile. He fell back onto the mattress, rolled onto his side, curled in on himself, and slowly closed his eyes.

  “Sleep, baby,” I whispered, tucking the doona in around him and kissing his head. Those meds would knock him out for a while, but I still stayed there for a few minutes watching the even rise and fall of his chest. Squish jumped up on the bed and padded over to his favourite human and snuggled into Juss’ side.

  Then I remembered Justin’s mother and wondered if she’d left yet. I hoped she hadn’t, so I could go vent my rage at her. Leaving Juss asleep, I went back down to the shop to find her, unfortunately, gone.

  Davo and Sparra came straight over. “Is he okay?” Sparra asked. “Saw you carryin’ him upstairs. He didn’t look too good.”

  I shook my head. I had too many emotions coursing through me right then to speak.

  “What the fuck was her problem?” Davo said. “Soon as she got here, she walked in all high and mighty, asking for Jusso. I told her you weren’t here, and she didn’t believe me at first. I said you were both at some medical appointment but I didn’t think you’d be too far away, so she just sat in the breakroom and refused to leave. Said she’d wait.”

  I clawed my hands, imagining them around her throat. “Ever wanted to snap someone’s fucking neck?” I asked.

  They both stared.

  “That fucking piece of shit,” I sneered. “She wants the money. She demanded he pay her, said he owes her for raising him.”

  “Oh, fuck that,” Davo said, shaking his head.

  “I wanna kick the shit out of something,” I admitted, still so fucking cranky. “Juss lost his shit. He went off his head, threw his cane at her.”

  “We heard,” Sparra said.

  I shook my head. “He can’t handle that kind of stress. He just fucking zoned out after, like he was those first days after the accident. I reckon the pain in his head’s at a ten right now.”

  “Did he take his pills?” Davo asked.

  I nodded, finally taking in a deep breath and calmed down a notch. “He’ll be out for a while. But it’s not good.”

  Sparra patted my shoulder. “You feeling all right?”

  I nodded, then shook my head. “Dunno how I feel. Like I wanna strangle his mother. She read the newspaper article, about him getting some money. Which he thinks he needs to put aside for twenty years’ time when his brain damage gets worse and he needs to go into a nursing home.”

  “What?” Davo asked.

  I shook my head and waved my hand. “Nothing. He read some medical research piece about people who have a brain injury and what happens to them later in life. He’s been stressed about that. And then she
turns up. Of all people, on all the days. The piece-of-shit mother who disowned him and called him . . . horrible things.”

  “Well, fuck her,” Davo said. “I hope she comes back. She won’t get near him next time, I promise ya.”

  Sparra made a face. “Well, she won’t be coming back for a few days. Not in that car.”

  “Why not?” Davo asked.

  “She’s gonna have two flat tyres in the next twelve or so hours.” He shrugged. “She’ll be fine getting home, but when she goes out to get in her car tomorrow morning, she’ll have a little surprise. She really should check her valve stems more often.”

  Davo’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t? When she started yellin’ and you disappeared? That’s where you went?”

  He sighed. “Of course not.”

  Of course, yes.

  I should have reprimanded him, but all I could do was laugh. A stressed, relieved, teary laugh.

  Sparra grinned. “And they were perfectly inflated when she left here, and there were no embedded nails or punctures. They’ll just slowly go down over the next day or so. She can’t say shit.”

  I let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand over my face. “I still can’t believe the hide of that woman.”

  “She was ranting about calling the cops when she left,” Davo said. “Do you reckon she will?”

  I shrugged. “And tell them what?”

  “That Jusso threw his cane at her.”

  “It didn’t hit her, as much as I wish it did,” I replied. “But I hope she does call the cops. They’ll love to hear how she kicked him out, called him a bunch of names, and the only time she made any effort to see him was to demand money. After he’s had an accident that fucked up his entire life.” God, it just made me so fucking angry. “I hope she does. I’d love to see her one more time.”

  “God, then you would end up in jail,” Davo said.

  “And you wouldn’t be able to see Jusso,” Sparra added. “So, no homicide, thanks.”

  I sighed again, long and loud. “Yeah, I better just go up and check on him,” I said. “Then I’ll come straight back down. We’ve got three jobs in today, right?”

  Davo gave me a nod. “Just do what you can do, mate. Don’t stress, we’ll get it done.”

  Of course, just then the phone rang and Davo took the cordless out of his pocket. It was another booking for later in the week, and he walked off toward the office with the phone to his ear. Sparra gave me a kind, sympathetic smile. “Go and check on him,” he said.

  I didn’t need telling twice. I took the stairs two at a time and went inside. Juss and Squish hadn’t moved at all. Though Squish opened one eye at my arrival, Justin never even stirred. His breathing was deep and even, and I didn’t dare wake him. He needed to sleep, to give his brain some recovery time.

  I set a bottle of water on his bedside and went back to work. I checked on him again every hour, but he slept. He’d changed positions, rolled over and upset the cat, but he never woke.

  By four o’clock we’d signed off on all three jobs, and Justin still hadn’t woken up. I was doing my best not to worry, but that was going about as well as could be expected.

  “We’ve got two Suzukis in tomorrow and an ATV, first thing,” I said as we were finishing up. “I don’t reckon Justin will be working, but I should be.”

  Davo gave me a nod. “Just go, Dall. We’ll lock up.”

  “You sure?”

  Sparra nodded. “We’re done here anyway. See ya in the mornin’. Tell Jusso I hope he’s feeling better.”

  “I will. Thanks, guys.”

  I heard the roller door going down as I climbed the stairs, more thankful for those two guys with each step. And I’d tell them that tomorrow. But I just needed Juss to be okay first. He was still in bed, though his eyes were open.

  He was on his side facing the middle of the bed, so I lay down beside him, with my head on the pillow. “Hey,” I whispered.

  He slow blinked, expressionless. It took him a long moment to speak and when he did, his voice was quiet and slow. “Tired.”

  “It’s okay, baby. You can sleep.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes and, just like that, was back in the land of nod. He’d had a shit day, stressed to the max, a blinding headache, and the pills he took usually put him on his arse, so I didn’t mind. If he needed to sleep, then I wouldn’t argue.

  At least he’d been awake momentarily, and he’d spoken. That was good enough for me.

  But then he slept all night through and he didn’t cling to me like he usually did. He just stayed on his side, curled up, sound asleep. And in the morning, I could barely rouse him. He was sluggish and cranky like he was every morning, but it just didn’t feel right. If he needed to rest all day, I wouldn’t mind, but something wasn’t right.

  I got him out of bed and helped him to the couch and he just curled up there instead. I made him his decaf coffee and a piece of toast, knelt in front of him.

  “Take a bite for me?” I asked. “I made coffee, but did you want a juice instead?”

  He didn’t reply, just closed his eyes. So I put the blanket over him and left his breakfast in front of him on the coffee table and went for a quick shower. When I came back out, he hadn’t moved. But his eyes were half-open, though he stared into space.

  I knelt in front of him again. “Juss, can you look at me?”

  His eye movement was slow, but he did look at me. All that stared back at me was a familiar blankness. His right eyelid drooped a little.

  My stomach felt queasy. A cold shiver ran down my scalp and all the way down my spine.

  This wasn’t good. Something was wrong. Sure, in the past if he’d had a big day, it took him a day to recover, but this felt . . . like something else. Something much worse.

  Like all Justin’s progress, his recovery, every step forward he’d taken was gone.

  “Juss, can you open your mouth for me? Show me your teeth,” I said, trying to remember what to ask to check for a stroke. “Juss?”

  Nothing. He was just blank.

  I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t trained to deal with this or to know how to react. So I called the only person who I knew would be able to help. It was early, I knew I’d only get a message bank, but they’d get back to me as soon as possible.

  “Uh, yeah, hi, Doctor Chang, it’s Dallas Muller. Boyfriend of Justin Keith. Something’s wrong with him, and I don’t know what to do. If you could call me . . .”

  Then it occurred to me, mid-sentence, like I was an idiot. What the fuck are you doing, Dallas? Get him to hospital.

  “You know what? I’m gonna call him an ambulance. We’ll be at John Hunter.”

  I ended the call, and sitting on my haunches in front of him, I called 000. I explained that he’d had a brain injury three months ago and he’d had a stress meltdown yesterday and he’d been sleeping, but now he was mostly awake but unresponsive.

  Even as I said all this, Justin simply stared into space. Like my Juss was gone all over again.

  I fought tears as I spoke, giving directions and explaining that we lived above the mechanic’s workshop. Leaving Juss, I raced downstairs and unlocked the front gate while I stayed on the line until I heard the sound of sirens. I ended the call and waved the ambulance in.

  “He’s upstairs,” I said before the guy was all the way out of his seat.

  They both followed me up, and Juss hadn’t moved a muscle. He didn’t even blink when two strangers stood in front of him. The guy knelt and asked him questions, but Juss didn’t reply.

  That’s when the panic really started to kick in.

  They asked me information about his injuries, his operations, and I tried to tell them everything. I explained that he’d been doing so well, getting back to work, and how his doctor wanted to move his appointments to fortnights instead of weekly. But then how his mother turned up yesterday and caused a scene and how he couldn’t cope with stress anymore.

  “He zoned out on me after she left, and hi
s head hurt. He took his pills and went to sleep. I thought he’d wake up okay today,” I told them, going to the cabinet above the fridge where we kept his meds. I took the bottle and handed it to the medic. “I thought he just needed some sleep. He said his head hurt and he put his hand to his scar. Christ, what if he’s had another bleed? I should have got him to hospital yesterday.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll get him there now,” the second paramedic said, her voice calm. They discussed a few things between themselves; then they mentioned the stairs.

  “I can carry him down,” I said. “I’ve done it before.” I just needed him to get to hospital. I needed them to get him there now.

  Maybe they were about to argue but I went to Juss and scooped him up, blanket and all. “Come on, baby. We need to get you downstairs.”

  I had to shuffle him a bit to get a good centre of gravity but gave the paramedic a nod before carrying him down. They hurried to get the gurney and we had him loaded into the back of the ambulance just as Davo pulled into the yard.

  Fuck.

  He pulled up and got out, wide-eyed. “What the hell happened?”

  “It’s just precautionary,” the paramedic said before I could answer.

  “He didn’t get any better,” I said. “I’ll call you when I know something. If you could . . .”

  “Yeah, mate, don’t worry about the shop. We got it. You just go with him.”

  I nodded and climbed into the back of the ambulance where the other paramedic was tending to Juss. The guy shut the door, and I was holding it together okay until they flicked the sirens on. Then shit started to get really fucking real.

  When we arrived at the A&E, everything was a blur. So much happened, so many people, so many questions, so fast my head spun. Until they wheeled Juss away and I was sat in a chair and told to wait. Then everything stopped.

  The silence, the isolation. It was dizzying.

  It was déjà vu, all over again. These white walls, the foul smell of disinfectant and sickness, the way no one made eye contact. I hated it. I hated being here; I hated that he was here again; I hated that he was going through this again.

  I hated that his mother had turned up uninvited, and I hated that maybe me yelling at her stressed him out more than her yelling. That maybe I’d done this to him . . .