by Karen Swan
‘Look, you are not the first man in the world to have these feelings, nor will you be the last,’ she said flatly. ‘When the baby’s born, you’ll feel differently.’
But he shook his head, not believing her. ‘No, I brought this on us. I did. I’ve been . . . I’ve been such a bad husband to her. I don’t deserve her.’
True. ‘That’s not true – you are all Lucy’s ever wanted. You’re her world.’
Tears began streaking down his cheeks again and in spite of her contempt for what he’d done to Mitch – and he had done it, she was unequivocal about that – she felt an ache in her heart for him. He looked like a child, standing there, helpless, beating himself up. He suddenly inhaled deeply, roughly wiping his cheeks dry with the heel of his hand. ‘I just miss him so much, you know?’
Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden mention of Mitch but she didn’t stir, she didn’t speak. It was the first time Tuck had dared to approach the subject with her since the funeral.
‘Nothing’s the same. I feel like . . . like part of me’s gone too.’
Meg felt herself begin to shake. This wasn’t the time. He didn’t get to lump his concern about Lucy with his guilt about Mitch; he didn’t get to sidestep what he’d done because of pity. But she was saved from having the conversation as Barbara came back, the coffee cup no longer in her hands, her complexion as pale as before.
‘Anything?’ she asked them anxiously.
Meg shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Oh, I thought I saw . . . What can be taking so long?’ she fretted, wringing her hands.
‘I’m sure they’re just playing it safe and running tests.’
Barbara nodded, but her gaze was fixed on the door that separated her from her daughter.
‘Someone should be in there with her,’ she muttered quietly. ‘Don’t you think? She must be so frightened.’
‘It’s probably best for the doctors if we’re not. They need to get on with their jobs.’ Meg patted the empty seat beside her. ‘Come and sit down, Barbara – you look really pale. Are you sure you don’t want someone to check you over? You’ve had a terrible shock.’
Barbara shook her head as she sat down, but her eyes were still on the door.
Another one further up the corridor opened instead and a doctor came out, speaking in hushed tones to a nurse by her side. She looked up and saw their little group huddled miserably in the reception area. She walked over and Meg automatically stood up, holding her breath. Dolores had suffered a cardiac arrest as they waited for the first responders and it was only the presence of a doctor in the crowd, who had given her heart massage until they arrived, that had kept her alive.
‘Dolores has been very lucky – it could have been a lot, lot worse. The bear only just clipped her but she still suffered a deep laceration to the neck, missing the carotid artery by a couple of millimetres. We’ve stitched her up and started her on a course of antibiotics for the risk of infection.’
‘When can we take her home?’ Meg asked quickly.
‘I’m afraid not for a few days. We need to keep her in to monitor her vitals. Even though she’s in great shape for her age, the fact remains she’s an elderly lady and the trauma of the attack has put her body under enormous strain.’
‘Oh, my Lord,’ Barbara whimpered, pressing her hands in a steeple to her mouth.
‘Can we see her?’ Meg pressed.
‘She’s sedated at the moment but one of you can sit with her.’
‘Me,’ Meg said quickly and stepping forwards, before feeling guilty – Barbara and Dolores had been close friends for thirty or more years. ‘Lucy will need you two,’ she added to Barbara and Tuck.
‘Is there any word yet on my daughter?’ Barbara asked anxiously. ‘She’s pregnant. Twenty-one weeks. We should be in there with her. She needs us.’
The doctor nodded. ‘I’ll go and check for you.’
She walked away and Meg turned to Barbara and Tuck. ‘I’ll go and sit with Dolores. Let me know as soon as you know about Lucy?’
They nodded and she hurried away, her hiking boots clumpy on the polished floor.
She pushed the door open and stopped there, halted by the sight of her fearsome, fearless friend hooked up to wires in the bed. Her athletic figure – always put to use stacking boxes or climbing ladders or hiking with the town’s senior rambling group – looked suddenly frail and small when it was inert, her skin crêpey on the upper arms, her face slack from the anaesthetic. Meg bit her lip, feeling the tears start, as she finally saw that Dolores’s body was what her spirit was not: old.
She closed the door behind her and walked up to the bed, pulling a chair to the side and lightly clasping Dolores’s hand.
A large dressing had been wrapped around Dolores’s neck like a scarf, her face untouched, so that there was nothing really to show the horror of what they had lived through, fighting for their lives against an animal that could have killed each and every one of them with just a few lazy moves.
But it so nearly had killed Dolores, and Meg felt a shiver of cold ripple through her at the prospect of losing her tough-on-the-outside ally and friend. She’d lost so many of her family already; she didn’t know how she would survive losing Dolores too.
‘I’m here, Dolores,’ Meg whispered, gripping her fingers tighter as though holding her up. ‘You just rest. I’m here.’
Lucy stared upwards, her eyes following the criss-cross tracks of the ceiling tiles, a blanket draped over her. It was warm in the room but she couldn’t stop shivering, her mind on a loop, replaying that moment when the bear had reared and lunged, over and over again. Every time she closed her eyes, she recalled the size of it, the smell . . . She gagged again, leaning over the side of the bed, head hanging over the bucket the nurses had brought in for her.
She fell back on the bed, her arms draped over her bump, a single tear sliding down her cheek. The baby wasn’t even born and she had failed it. She had done nothing to protect herself, just frozen on the spot. If it hadn’t been for Dolores roaring and jumping about, demanding the bear came after her, Meg screaming in terror as she advanced with her arm outstretched . . . they had saved her, both of them – they had saved the baby and she, the mother, had done nothing, she’d just lain on the ground and waited.
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t be a mother! She wasn’t fit to look after this child, she didn’t deserve to. Because this wasn’t the only time she’d endangered it – every slap or punch, every kick or shove . . . And every time it happened, it got a little worse. She and Tuck were heading down a path from which there was no good outcome, she knew that, and yet— She rubbed the tear away angrily, hating herself, despising her own weakness, knowing he was a drug she needed, a man she could not leave.
The nurse walked back in with some fresh water and anti-sickness pills, Tuck barrelling in after her, his eyes as wide as if the bear were chasing him.
‘Oh, baby, thank Christ,’ he cried, rushing to her and enveloping her into his chest, his hands cradling her head against his heart, his lips in her hair. ‘I thought I’d lost you. Both of you.’
She wrapped her arms around him, feeling him pinning her to him as fresh tears skidded down her cheeks.
‘I’m going to make everything right between us,’ he whispered urgently as she sobbed, his breath hot against her scalp. ‘I’m going to change. Things will be how they used to be. I’ll be the man you both deserve, you’ll see. This is our second chance.’
She pulled away, knowing his apologies were groundless. He wasn’t the one who had to change; it was all her fault – she pushed too hard, wanting too much from him, wanting it to be perfect. He wiped away her tears and she sank back against the mattress, for once wishing he wouldn’t touch her; she had been poked and prodded all afternoon, the nurses taking blood tests and urine samples to check for foetal distress, wheeling her off for scans to check for internal trauma, everyone wanting something from her. She had sprained her wrist
as she landed on the ground and she felt bruised and stiff, marked out as a failure.
‘They said the baby’s OK?’ Tuck said, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek the way her father used to do when she’d been a little girl, running a temperature.
She could only nod. It was down to no credit of her own that either she or this child had survived.
His eyes took in her silence, her tears, her rare frailty and he reached a hand towards her, tenderly. ‘Baby, I . . . I know I’ve let you down. I’ve been distant and . . . and angry,’ he said, watching as she stared at the wall, clutching her hand and pressing it to his lips, trying to get her to look at him. ‘I haven’t known how to deal with . . . all these feelings. It’s like there’s just been too much, you know? I got confused. Everything that happened that night . . . it was such a goddam mess. I . . . I’ve been so angry, I know, acting like it was your fault –’ she gasped, looking up at him finally. ‘But of course it wasn’t, you couldn’t have known. I just . . . needed someone else to blame. I couldn’t face up to what I’d done.’ He kissed her fingers again, desperation in the gesture, his cheeks wet against her hand. ‘But I’ve learned, Lucy. This has been my wake-up call. I miss my friend but I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you and the baby. You’re my wife. We’re going to be a family.’ He clasped her head in both his hands, gazing down into her eyes, no shadows there today. ‘This is our turning point. We can make things good again, I know we can.’
She blinked back at him, feeling as though she was in a tunnel, his voice sounding far, far away. She wanted to believe him but she was running out of faith—
‘How’s Dolores?’ she asked, in barely more than a croak. The screaming had shredded her voice.
‘Dolores?’ Tuck looked baffled that she should ask. ‘I don’t know. All I could think about was you. You two.’
‘Where’s my mom and Meg?’ she asked, so quietly that Tuck had to lean in to hear.
‘Your mom’s outside. Meg’s in with Dolores.’
‘So then . . . that must be a good sign, right?’ she whispered, another wave of tears overwhelming her as she thought again of what the older woman had done for her – selflessly, bravely, without a moment’s hesitation, saved her when she’d been unable to save herself, just a coward lying on the ground . . . ‘If . . . if it was bad, they wouldn’t let anyone in, would they?’
‘They said the claw missed her artery by a couple of millimetres but she’s gonna be fine.’
‘A couple of . . . ? Oh my God,’ Lucy sobbed. She went to pull the blanket off her, to get up. ‘I’ve got to see her.’
‘You can’t!’ Tuck cried, holding the blanket down and pinning her in place. ‘You gotta rest. They’re still monitoring the baby. Please Luce – just do what the doctors say. For the baby’s sake.’
She stopped resisting, her body falling slack, and he relaxed again. ‘Anyway, they’ve got her drugged up at the moment. I don’t think she’s awake.’
Reluctantly, she let him push her back against the mattress, lying still as he fussed with her pillows, pulling the blanket up tight and tucking her in. He kissed the top of her head, marvelling over her as though she was divinely sent, this loving cameo a counterpoint to their relationship acted out behind closed doors.
It was a dynamic she knew too well, a story she’d already lived through once before in her short lifetime. At what point, she wondered, had they tipped from the light into the dark? Long before Mitch had died, that was for sure. For the first few years, it had felt like they were living the dream – she was dating the school’s bad boy/pretty boy, the town’s local hero. But as the magic dimmed and frustrations set in, things began to change – just small triggers at first, like irritation if dinner wasn’t ready. But it had steadily grown, the tenor of the relationship changing, the catalysts for the violence becoming not bigger but smaller, until she’d realized one day that actually, no reason was needed at all, that their light couldn’t exist without the dark – they could only make love after the hate, laugh after the tears . . .
‘Say something, baby,’ he entreated, his voice a whisper as he watched her profile, wondering where she’d gone. ‘Tell me you believe me. Things are going to be better. We’ll get back to the old days. I know things have been bad but we’re through the worst now, we can get past this. I know we can.’
Lucy looked at him, a solitary tear tracking its way down her cheek. Did he really believe that? Were his words true to him? Weren’t their natures now fixed?
She turned her head, her gaze falling to the window that looked out onto the nurses’ station. The blind was pulled down but the slats were flat, allowing a striated view through, and she felt her tear halt its march as her mother blinked back at her. Seeing it all. Understanding it all.
After all, it took one to know one.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday 26 July 2017
‘You are to go. None of this nonsense.’ Dolores’s voice was firm.
‘But, Dolores—’
‘Don’t you “But, Dolores” me. It’s ridiculous that they’re keeping me in this long as it is. I feel perfectly fine. I’m not having you miss your holiday on my account.’
‘It’s only Toronto. I can rebook. I can go any time.’
‘Yes, you can. But do you?’ Dolores arched an eyebrow. ‘When was the last time you left the state?’
Meg opened her mouth to reply, but as she realized the answer, closed it again.
‘And besides, you know perfectly well your sister probably won’t take another break until the next leap year. She is to rest what you are to travel.’ Dolores chuckled, shaking her head from side to side in amusement. ‘Honestly, what a pair you are.’
Meg sighed, her coffee cup now cooling in her hands. ‘Dolores, you were attacked by a bear.’
‘Oh, trust me, I remember.’
Meg smiled, the smile turning into a giggle. ‘I can’t believe you were actually drawing it towards you. I mean, are you insane? “Here, bear, chase me, chase me!”’
‘Says the girl who walked straight towards it.’ Dolores shrugged. ‘Anyway, better me dead than you girls. I’ve had my time.’
‘No, you haven’t!’ Meg cried. ‘You’d told Barbara only that morning that you had no plans to shuffle off this mortal coil just yet.’
‘And I don’t, but if it’s an either/or situation . . .’ Her eyes softened as she looked at Meg. ‘You haven’t got started yet. Your whole life is ahead of you. You need to start living it.’
‘I am.’
‘I mean properly.’ She smiled but her eyes were sad. ‘You’re just sleepwalking at the moment, Meg. It’s time to wake up and see the world. Really see it.’
Meg didn’t reply. She didn’t want to argue – Dolores was nowhere near as strong as she’d like to pretend – but why did everyone insist on making out as though she was only living half a life? Dolores, Ronnie . . . ? Her fiancé was dead. The life she was supposed to be living had been snatched away at the eleventh hour. Was it really so surprising if she didn’t quite know her next step?
Dolores closed her eyes, looking tired again. It had been three days since the accident and although the wound was healing nicely, the doctors still weren’t happy with her stats, her blood pressure erratically peaking at dangerously high levels. ‘Promise me you’ll go.’
Meg stayed silent.
Dolores opened one eye. ‘Promise me. Or I’ll die here just to spite you.’
‘Fine,’ Meg replied with a groan. ‘But I’m going to be calling daily and if they say you’ve so much as sneezed, I’ll be on the first plane back.’
Dolores chuckled. ‘You’re stubborn, you know that?’
‘Ha! Pot. Kettle. Black!’ Meg laughed, holding her hand and squeezing it tightly.
Dolores sank her head back into the pillow. ‘How’s Jonas?’
Meg smiled. Jonas appeared to be Dolores’s new favourite topic. ‘He’s fine.’
‘Heard from him?’
> ‘Yes, he emailed last night.’
‘And what’s he got to say for himself this time? You know, for a man stuck on a spaceship, he sure is talkative.’
‘Shall I read it to you?’
‘Well, there’s nothing better to do in this godforsaken place . . . A postcard from space will have to do.’
Meg chuckled, pulling out her smartphone and finding the message. Dolores loved Jonas’s galactic perspective almost as much as Meg.
‘Hi Dog-Dog-Ellie.’ Meg paused, eyebrows cocked. ‘He’s taken to greeting me like this now. He thinks it’s hilarious that I don’t know the proper thingies for call signs.’
‘So do I,’ Dolores grinned. ‘I shall have to teach you. Go on.’
‘Sorry I haven’t been able to write before now. Things are mad here with getting ready for our return on Friday. I feel more like a cleaner than an astronaut, wrapping and packing away all the waste that we need to bring with us back to Earth. We’ve even had to stop playing our bubble-wrap game because it’s all stowed now—’ Meg looked back at Dolores. ‘Did I tell you about that? The bubble wrap’s stored in the Japanese module, out of the way, and they have timed races after dinner for who can take a piece there and get back in the shortest amount of time?’
‘Such children,’ Dolores groaned, clearly loving the sound of it.
Meg went back to reading again. ‘Although Sergei still plays his guitar any chance he gets and most of us just go to the cupola every time we’ve got a few minutes, to take more pictures. It’s hard to believe that after six months, we’ve now got less than two days left to enjoy this view. I’m not sure any of the pictures I’ve taken will ever convey what it actually feels like to be up here; words aren’t enough either. I think it’s because space is so beyond the human experience, we just aren’t equipped to convey it. We talk about the physicality of it – weightlessness, lack of oxygen . . . but every time I look out and see the huge curve of the Earth, that thin disc of gold as another dawn breaks just over the horizon, it’s my spirit that is stirred. I think it’s not just scientists they should bring up here but priests and rabbis and imams, philosophers, politicians, world leaders . . . The world is ruled by money and divided by religion but when you see the planet from out here, you understand there’s more to humanity than “just” physics and the physical.