by Isobel Hart
“Remarkable,” the doctor said, the steady beat of the heart monitor reassuring all was well. “He’s doing brilliantly, all things considered. Extraordinarily well. We’ll keep a close eye on him for the next few days, but I’m delighted with his progress.” Dr Harvey gave them a broad smile, it faltered when he looked at me.
Brenda and Patrick turned, taking their eyes away from their son for the first time in what had been an excruciatingly long week. “You look exhausted, Sam,” Brenda said. “You should rest too–” I started to protest, but she stopped me with a raised hand. “Edward will need you when he comes home. He’s got a long recovery road ahead. While we’re here take a little time and get some rest. You’re nearly dead on your feet.”
“I just need a bit of air. I’ll be alright. Is it okay if I step outside for a few minutes?”
They nodded. “Of course dear, whatever you need.”
With some relief, I let myself out the hospital room and limped my way down to the ground floor. I exited through the hospital’s reception doors, and pulled myself up onto a low wall.
My phone beeped with an incoming text. Where are you?
It was Heidi. Sitting on the wall outside reception, I texted back.
“Hey stranger,” she said, when she walked up five minutes later.
I leant over and hugged her. She was a good friend. My best friend. She was also the only other person who knew the full details about the events preceding the accident.
“Sorry I’m a bit later today. Good to see you outside. You okay?” She pulled herself up onto the wall beside me. She’d visited the hospital daily since the accident – to see me, not Edward.
“No,” I admitted.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Not yet. Just give me some time.”
“As much as you need.” She gave me a reassuring squeeze on my good knee. “Just breathe, honey.”
Like Edward, it felt as if I was taking my first real breath since the accident. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun, feeling some of the tension ease a little.
“How’s the shit-bag doing?”
Keeping my eyes closed, I said, “He wasn’t always a shit-bag, but . . . good. They removed his ventilation. He’s breathing on his own.”
“That’s great. I’m glad. I need him to hurry up and get better so I can kick his arse for hurting my best friend.”
I opened my eyes and smiled at her, watching as she trailed her finger through the pink coating on the wall. It was everywhere. The strange fog had cleared after that first awful day, leaving behind its residue. The clean-up would take weeks.
She looked at her finger. “Hey, did you hear they said the pink stuff in the fog was some sort of airborne protein?”
“What?”
“The pink fog.”
“Yeah?”
“It was an airborne protein. You’re the medical rep, you know about medical stuff. I thought you’d know what that meant.”
“Like an agar? An airborne agar?”
“I guess. If you say so.”
“What caused it?” I felt woefully out of touch with the rest of the world.
“They still have no idea. Not Isis though, despite their claims.” She snorted. The news had been rife with fears of biological attack on the morning of the fog. Scientists had been quick to reassure the public there were no known harmful elements contained within it, despite its strange luminosity. It had helped stop the finger-pointing when the fog enveloped the globe. Our accident had been one of hundreds caused by the poor visibility. My inattention hadn’t helped though.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Heidi said.
“Are you a mind reader now?”
“No. I know the look. It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. She had that stubborn set to her jaw I knew meant she wouldn’t be budged on the subject.
“I crashed the car.”
“The visibility was crap, and you were . . . distracted.”
I snorted this time.
“He fucked another woman. You were entitled to be pissed off with him.”
“I was certainly that.” And hurt. All those weeks of believing his lies about where he’d been. The late-night texts I’d ignored. The perfume that wasn’t mine. I’d been such a fool. “I wished him dead,” I admitted.
“Hmm, I can’t say I blame you. He treated you like shit the last few weeks. Maybe it’s karma.” She looked at me. “You need to eat something, Sam. You’re getting too skinny. You’re going to need your strength for what’s to come.”
The knot in my stomach tightened another notch.
***
“No, the liver seems fine. They’re worried about his brain now.” I pressed the phone to my other ear, as I sat on the bed beside Edward, looking down at his too-still form. He was so handsome. Perfect really. I traced my fingers along his stubble line until I reached the little cleft in his chin. He’d loved it when I did that. He’d loved a lot of the things I did. I’d loved a lot of the things he did for me too. In the beginning, we couldn’t do enough for each other. I hadn’t been able to believe my luck when he liked me too. I should have known it was too good to be true. I dropped my hand back into my lap.
“What’s wrong with his liver?” Heidi sounded breathless, noisy traffic audible in the background.
“They don’t know yet. They won’t know until he wakes up, if he wakes up.” There was no evidence of any swelling in the most recent scans, which they deemed to be very good news. Good enough to have made them suggest removing all anaesthetic in the hope he’d wake up and enable them to assess his cognitive function. So far, after a massive build-up of expectations, we’d waited a day but nothing had happened.
Edward had been moved to a different room now that he needed less one-on-one nursing. A private room, thanks to the bank’s health insurance. Just as well, he didn’t cope well with ‘the masses’. He’d hate to wake up on a public ward. My eyes ran over the unrelenting white walls, broken only by the blue curtains, gaping in places where the hooks were missing. The NHS version of private healthcare. “I’m meant to talk to him.”
“Isn’t he in a coma?”
“Yes, but the nurse said he may still be able to hear us.” His parents had certainly taken them at their word. I’d had to listen to a continuous stream of all the things they wished they’d thought to say to him. I felt like such a fraud. They’d chattered away to the both of us, as if they’d popped round for afternoon tea, seeming to have forgotten he was a thoughtless bastard who only bothered to see them twice a year – to collect his birthday and Christmas presents. I explained as much to Heidi.
“I don’t know how you keep a straight face.”
“Tell me about it. The thought of listening to it all day again today is almost enough to make me want to go back to work.”
“Steady on.”
I laughed. “I said almost.”
The door opened and Brenda breezed into the room, a wake of Estee Lauder fragrance washing in behind her. With the quantity she used, it was cloying in the small, unventilated space.
“I’ll speak to you later, Heidi, Brenda’s here,” I said, not waiting for a reply as I disconnected. “Hi.” I smiled up at his mum.
“Samantha, how are you doing, darling? How’s our boy today? He’s so lucky to have you.” She patted my shoulder as she gazed down lovingly at her son. Guilt stabbed at me. The crash aside, I hated him for what he’d done to me – to us. I loathed all the pretence.
“I’m fine. He’s fine. No change.” I reeled off the required status update. “I’ll go and get a coffee if you’re happy here alone for a minute? I’m gasping.” I couldn’t wait to get away.
“Of course, darling. I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Edward. We’ll be just fine together, won’t we, my love?” She chattered away to him as she unpacked her bag. “I’m here for the day,” she assured me, as I dithered beside her. “Patrick will be in to visit this evening too. You go and get your coffee, and
rest that leg. Make sure someone carries it to the table for you.”
I smiled gratefully. She’d been very kind to me. “Do you want anything?” She shook her head, already focused on Edward.
I dragged my coffee out for nearly forty-five minutes before limping slowly back to Edward’s room, a room that became more and more like a cell. As I shuffled inside, Brenda spun towards me, her eyes bright. “Sam, thank goodness you’re back! He’s awake!”
My gaze darted towards the bed. Edward’s eyes were open and staring straight at me. I saw no flicker of recognition. His dead-eyed stare sent bone-numbing fear running through my veins.
Chapter 3
For a second, the fear paralysed me, then sense kicked in. “Edward, how are you? How are you feeling?”
He said nothing.
I looked at Brenda. “Has he spoken yet?” I turned back to the bed, scanning his eyes and face for any signs of cognitive deficiency.
“Not yet, but he will,” she said with confidence as she beamed down at her son.
“Samantha?” Edward’s voice sounded husky from the intubation and lack of use.
“Oh my God!” I clasped a hand to my mouth. “Nurse!” I bellowed towards the closed door. “Nurse!” I shifted closer to the bed. “Edward, thank God you’re okay.”
The door burst open as medical staff poured in. Pushing me aside, they began to take his observations. “How do you feel, Edward?” a small man with bright red hair asked, as he shone a light into Edward’s eyes. He wore a stethoscope around the neck of his white doctors’ coat.
“Tired. Sore. Samantha?” Edward sounded anxious.
“Still here,” I said from my position beside the wall. The crowd moved, making a space for me next to him. I struggled to meet his eyes, guilt and anger warring with my relief he’d woken.
“What do you remember about the accident?” the doctor asked, setting off more bursts of adrenaline, like fireworks, inside me. Did he remember asking me to slow down? Did he remember our fight? Did he remember fucking that girl . . . Serena?
Edward stared up at the doctor, returning his gaze to mine a second before answering. “Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”
The doctors exchanged a look. It was the neurologist who answered. “You’ve had a severe trauma to your head. It’s to be expected you might have some temporary memory loss. I don’t think it’s anything much to worry about, all things considered, but we’ll run some tests. I expect, over the next few weeks and months, things will improve naturally.”
Edward nodded, appearing unconcerned.
Someone found him a cup of water and a straw. I watched as his mother helped raise his head to take a sip. His eyes drifted closed as soon as he rested back against the pillow, his breathing slow and measured. I sagged with relief.
“Oh, my darling, I’m so happy for you.” Brenda pulled me into a tight hug. I pressed my face into her shoulder, glad it gave me the moment I needed to get a handle on myself. I wished desperately I could feel happy too. It was certainly good news that he’d woken up, but it forced me to face the terminal state of our relationship. I wondered if he even remembered hammering the final coffin-nail in with his wayward dick? Worse, what might happen if he didn’t remember? I fixed a smile on my face as his mum gushed about how wonderful it all was.
“Maybe you should tell Patrick?” I suggested.
She gasped. “Patrick! My God, yes.” She rushed out of the room.
As soon as the door closed, I collapsed onto a chair, my head clasped in my hands.
“Are you okay, Sam?” Edward’s question startled me. I swung to look at him. His eyes were open again, and staring straight at me. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Fine,” I replied automatically. I couldn’t face the truth yet. “I’m sorry . . . I really have to go.” I stood, my legs swaying as I tried to find my balance, before limping my way out of the room, hoping like hell he wouldn’t ask me to stay. I didn’t have the strength for more; my head spun. Outside the room, I leant heavily against the wall and closed my eyes, praying I’d find some strength from somewhere to get me through the next few weeks.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked.
What is it with people asking me that? I opened my eyes resentfully, to find Dr Harvey looking down at me.
“Do you need to sit down?” He sounded concerned.
“What I need is a stiff drink.”
He smiled. “I know that feeling. I can’t offer you alcohol, but I’m due a break if you fancy a coffee?”
***
“Triple shot. I probably shouldn’t condone the abuse of your body with so much caffeine, but what the hell. I think you’ve probably earned it.” He placed a cup down in front of me, followed by a scone and a small pot of strawberry jam. “You look like you’re not eating enough.” I protested, but he held up his hand. “Humour me, I’m the doctor.”
My stomach rumbled and decided the matter.
“So,” he began, after we’d both taken a sip of our respective coffees and I started smearing an excessive amount of jam over my fruit scone. “Edward’s woken up and spoken. That’s good news. He was lucky.” He paused, tapping his index fingers together as he looked at me intently. “You must be delighted.”
The tension returned, my shoulders stiffening at his words. “Yes. I am. Of course.” The words tripped out of me. Each pause betraying my true feelings.
He frowned. “Look, forgive me if I’m overstepping the mark here. Please don’t think you need to talk to me at all. Hell, you don’t even need to sit at the same table as me to drink that.” He nodded towards my coffee. “You just look so unhappy. In fact, you look ill. Chewed nails, rigid posture and clenched jaw; you look stressed beyond belief. Believe me, I didn’t need seven years training to diagnose that. Is everything okay?” I opened my mouth to deny his observations, but he cut me off. “It can help to talk . . . especially to someone you don’t know well, someone who isn’t emotionally attached to the situation. I’m volunteering.” He sat back in his seat, as far as the moulded orange plastic would allow, and stared at me, arms folded across his chest.
I stared down at the stubs that existed where I used to have fingernails, before looking up into his beautiful sky-blue eyes – my favourite colour blue. Beautiful blue eyes that appeared clouded with concern. There was no doubt he was a handsome guy. Not much older than me, I guessed, with unusually shaggy blonde hair. Unusual for a doctor. He looked the way I imagined a doctor in one of the Australian soaps might look, rather than the sun-starved, sleep-deprived NHS doctors I normally encountered through work. He was also right about my stress levels, and my need to talk to someone other than Heidi. Something about him made me want to trust him. “If you really don’t mind?”
“I really don’t,” he assured me, his gaze steady on mine.
“Well, okay then.” I took a bite of my scone.
“Okay then,” he said. He tilted his head to one side as he looked at me. “So . . . if we start with the premise that it’s a good thing Edward has woken up?” He paused, waiting as I chewed.
I nodded.
“Then explain to me why you don’t look happy about it.”
Guilt flooded my cheeks with heat. “Of course I’m pleased he’s getting better. I’m not a monster!” I stopped, aware people were looking at us, and took a deep breath. “I can assure you, Dr Harvey–”
“Elliott, please.”
“Okay, well I can assure you – Elliott – I would have been eaten alive by the guilt if he hadn’t survived . . .” I paused, looking up from my coffee, “. . . I was driving when the accident happened. The thing is, Edward and I had just broken up.”
“Why?”
“Simple, really. I caught him shagging another woman. You’ll forgive me if, as a result, I’m not quite the gushing girlfriend everyone expects me to be.” I had no idea what possessed me to be quite so brutally honest with him.
Elliott’s eyebrows rose a little, then his expression softe
ned. “Well, I guess that explains why you’ve appeared a little strained at times.”
“Probably does,” I agreed.
“More fool him, by the way.”
“Sorry?”
He shook his head, unwilling to repeat himself. It didn’t matter; I’d heard him. My cheeks bloomed for a second time. “Do his parents know you’d broken up?”
“No. It all happened on the day of the accident. We went to a wedding, he got pissed and then shagged someone else. I finished it, then we crashed on our way home. That was my day in a nutshell. Oh, and there was that fog.”
“How long had you two been together?”
“Two years.”
He whistled. “Two years – that’s a fair while.”
“Yeah, long enough to learn every little thing that pissed me off about him. The fact he fucked at least one other woman was a biggie, but it was just top of a long list.”
“Sounds like you’re glad you finished it.”
“I was at the time. I am . . . I am.” I said again, with more certainty. “The problem is, he doesn’t remember the accident, so I don’t know if he remembers we broke up. Then there are his parents to manage. Someone will have to look after him when he gets discharged. I’m guessing everyone assumes that will be me as we still live together.”
“You don’t have to do any of that if you don’t want to. You can remind him you broke up. You can explain why to his parents, and then you can move out and start again with . . . someone who’d appreciate you a bit more.” He looked at me intently.
Was he flirting with me? It had been so long since I’d paid any attention to the opposite sex, I didn’t know for sure. “You make it sound so easy.” I sighed.
“It is. Life’s short. Don’t waste it with someone who doesn’t value you.”
I swallowed down the last of my coffee and smiled. “You know what, maybe you’re right. I just need to grasp the nettle, so to speak.”