by Dawson, H A
Brittany agreed, anything to get out of there, and after he had scheduled her next appointment, she was told she could leave. Her tautness evaporated and her steps lightened as she wandered back through the waiting area and to a main corridor, and chewed over the conversation.
The fact that her kidney seemed to be deteriorating was nothing new, but unlike previously, she did not fear the onset of end-stage kidney failure. More than likely, the problems with her kidney would be due to the immense stress she had been under. It would stabilise once the investigation stopped. It was nothing to fear.
Even so, Jason’s implication that her life was nearing its end caused an ache to develop in her stomach. He was definitely wrong and she wished she had received a report as proof. If her condition were in significant decline, Dr Larson, who was irritatingly negative, would have said so.
She plodded along and weaved through the maze before arriving at one of the hospital tea bars. At the counter was a stylish elderly man working alongside a young woman with ruffled red hair. The man had a warm demeanour, the exact opposite of his colleague who looked as though her world had ended. She ordered a tea.
‘Do you need sugar,’ the woman asked, her tone abrupt.
‘No thanks.’
‘Good. We haven’t much left. I’d have to go get some.’
‘Is it far?’
‘Just across there.’ She pointed to a door across the waiting area. ‘But I’m far too busy. He won’t go. Says he’s got old legs.’
The man was chatting to a customer and there was sparkle in his voice. Brittany couldn’t imagine him being difficult. ‘You are a bit younger.’
‘Exercise would do him good. I’m on my feet all day. Then I have two children to chase after and a bloke who’s useless. I’d bet it’s the same for you. You look knackered.’
Brittany tensed.
‘Men have it easy. We’re always cleaning up after them, and all they do is slurp beer and watch football.’
‘And if we don’t clean up, they turn into slobs.’
‘Exactly. You do know what I’m saying then. I was worried for a moment.’
Brittany slipped a coin into the woman’s hand.
‘I can tell you’re over doing it. The first thing that goes is the hair. I don’t mean to be rude love, but it is a bit dull, lacking sheen. You must make time for yourself. Tell your bloke to stop treating you like your Cinderella, and go doll yourself up. He’d appreciate it, believe me. You’re such a pretty thing.’
Brittany grimaced and turned away, and headed to a vacant seat at the far side of the room. Once seated, she peered through a window at her side, looking for her reflection, and saw a faint outline. Her hair was limp and her skin was a pasty-white, but it wasn’t that bad. She glanced over her shoulder to the counter. The woman didn’t look too hot either. Who was she to pass criticism?
The tea was pleasantly refreshing, and slipped down her throat, warming her chest. Rather than settling her nerves, as had been her intention, the incident with the woman had added to her anxieties and caused her to question her need to see Jason and Ethan. If her ailments were that obvious to a stranger, it was unlikely that she would be able to convince either of them of her good health. Children could be very blunt.
Biding her time, Brittany glanced at the passing strangers. Most people looked a little white, and she reminded herself that her mother was too. It was to be expected in early spring in a cool climate. The woman was just being rude. She should take no notice.
With her confidence rising, she threw back the remains of her drink, flung the plastic cup into a bin, and strode away, heading to the lifts that would take her to the renal department. She arrived in the corridor moments later. Upon passing an office, she heard Dr O’Riordan mention Ethan’s name. Concerned, she flattened herself against the wall and listened to the conversation.
‘He’s deteriorating very quickly. We don’t have long,’ he said.
‘How long?’ another man asked.
‘It’s hard to estimate. He’s slipping away. It’s very unusual for it to happen quite this way. I’ve only ever seen it a couple of times.’
‘What are our options?’
‘We need an organ, and fast.’
The sound of moving feet caused Brittany to jerk. She scurried away, heading towards Ethan’s ward, with her ears trained to her rear. The two men travelled in the opposite direction and paid her no attention.
At the entrance to the boys’ ward, she stopped. Ethan was resting, possibly asleep. She decided not to disturb him.
‘Brittany?’
She spun around. It was Nurse Roberts. ‘Hello. I was coming to see Ethan, but he looks peaceful.’
‘Yes, he’s not doing too good, poor little fellow.’
‘So I’ve heard. Is Jason around?’
‘No. We sent him home. He needs to rest. I’m sure he’ll be back later.’
Dazed, Brittany trundled towards the lifts. All the time that she had been obsessing over their relationship, Jason had been living a nightmare, fearing for his son’s life. She had hardly offered him any support or understanding. No wonder he had rejected her.
It was time to make amends.
Brittany’s pace slowed as she turned along Jason’s street, her nerves dancing. The semi-detached stone buildings were small and blocky, and looked to be about ten years old. Each had brown PVC double glazed windows and doors, and an unfenced, paved front garden. It was a tidy street; the road was without potholes and cracks, there were no creeping weeds, and it was litter-free. She considered it a nice place to live.
Number eleven was just ahead, at the far side of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. It was a delightful pink colour with a delicate fragrance, and it blocked her view to Jason’s front window. As she walked, she stepped closer to the road and extended her neck to look. There was no movement.
She arrived at the door, her heart hammering, and pressed the bell. A figure appeared and a key turned the lock. Jason opened the door. He looked dishevelled and ran his hand through his hair.
‘I’m sorry,’ Brittany blurted, ‘I had to come. I’ve just heard about Ethan. Is there anything I can do?’
‘Have you a spare kidney?’
She looked to him, blank.
‘Sorry. Come on in.’ He turned around and dragged his socked feet through a doorway into the lounge. ‘It’s a bit of a mess. I haven’t had time to clean.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Jason was right, it was a mess. There was a dirty plate with a half-eaten sandwich on the sofa, there was a mug on a small wooden table in the corner and another on the floor, and there was an apple core and orange peel on the armchair. Advertising leaflets were scattered all about, and there was dirt on the carpet. Taut, she dropped onto the sofa, moving aside a free local newspaper, and refocused her attention on Jason.
‘What’s happened?’
Jason shrugged. ‘Dialysis is not working too well. They don’t know how long he can hang on.’
‘You should have told me.’
Silence.
‘Don’t give up,’ Brittany said. ‘He’s in good hands. Something will turn up.’
He swept his hand across his grey face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Jason mumbled.
‘You have to believe. He’s a little fighter. I’ve seen it for myself.’
‘He’s dieing. And there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.’
He strode to the wall above the fireplace and stared at a photo of himself, his wife and his newborn son. They seemed blissfully happy, immune to the pain and devastation that they knew they would have to face. But there was no way Jason could have prepared himself for his wife’s sudden death, and that must have added unbelievable stress.
‘Holly was very pretty,’ she said.
He turned to face her and looked as though he was going to say something, but he was overcome with grief, and his eyes swelled and his
lip trembled. Quickly he hid from her view.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
She could not see his face but could feel his searing pain cutting through the air. Desperate to relieve even just a tad of his torment she placed her arm around his back. He fell into her arms and wept.
Unable to maintain a detachment, Brittany’s vision blurred as her eyes swam with tears, such was his agony. She bit her lip, tried to force them back, yet still they slipped free, descending her skin and dropping onto Jason’s shoulder.
‘You’ve set me off as well,’ she said, her voice quivering.
His eyes, streaky-red, reflected his appreciation. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’ll do you good.’
‘I feel such an idiot.’
Jason pulled away, reached for a tissue in his pocket, and dried his face.
‘I’m not much of a host,’ he continued. ‘Can I get you anything?’
She shook her head.
He looked to her, panic-stricken. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘It’s not necessarily over for Ethan.’
‘They warned me he hasn’t got long . . . told me to prepare for the worst. I’ve been there day and night since I last saw you. I’ve barely slept.’
She could tell; he looked terrible. ‘But you must.’
He looked to the clock. There was urgency in his gaze. ‘I should get back.’
‘They’ll ring you if anything happens.’
‘But I might not get there in time.’
Brittany reached for his hand. ‘Nothing’s going to happen. I just went to see him. He was sleeping soundly.’
‘Was he? Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘Try to relax.’
He leaned back into the sofa and parted his legs. Even in his distressed state, he was stunningly gorgeous.
‘I’ve done something really stupid,’ Jason said.
‘What?’
He glimpsed at her, as though surprised by her question, and his face became burdened with anxiety. He tried to speak a couple of times, but was voiceless and shook his head.
‘Is it that bad?’
Jason nodded.
‘And to do with Ethan.’
‘I’m all he’s got. If he gets through this . . .’ He stopped and ran his fingers through his tightly cut hair. ‘What’s going to happen to him if . . . if . . .’
‘If what?’
‘You had two parents. Ethan only has me. What if something happens to me? He’ll go into foster care.’
‘Nothing’s going to happen to you.’
His eyes darted, wild and rampant.
‘Don’t you have a brother?’
‘Danny couldn’t look after him. It’s not an option.’ He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. ‘What have I done?’
‘Tell me.’
Jason shook his head.
Brittany’s eyes wandered. The living room was small and had a modern feel. The walls were painted white, the furniture looked as though it had been purchased at Ikea, and the sofa was constructed of plain fabric and had narrow arms and a narrow back. It was cool within the room, and in the air, there was a strange smell. She scanned the room and noted upon a small shelf above a chest a burning joss stick. Alongside, upon the wall, was a montage of family photos.
‘My parent’s are not around either,’ he said.
‘Where are they?’
‘My father lives in the states, and my mother is a pianist and travels a lot. They wouldn’t want to be tied down to Ethan.’
‘Why do you think you won’t be able to look after him?’
Jason frowned. ‘I’ve done something. It was really stupid.’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then what’s going on? Please tell me.’
Jason frowned and placed a knuckle into his mouth. She watched and waited but he offered nothing more and her exasperation deepened. He had to be involved in the corruption. It was the only explanation for his nonsensical rambling.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,’ he said.
‘You can talk to me.’
Silence.
‘Are you involved in the corruption?’
He gave her a frenzied look and bolted to the window, staring for a few seconds at the road and the opposite house before turning around and shaking his head in a desperate mental battle.
‘I don’t know what to do.’
Trying not to be caught up in his whirlwind of anxiety, she leaned back into the sofa and relaxed her taut legs. ‘You said the other day Mum’s in danger. Are you too?’
‘No!’ He stared, frantic. ‘I can’t talk about it.’
‘What kind of danger is my mother in?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just what she said.’
‘Is it because of the investigation.’
Jason nodded reluctantly and stared at a photo of Ethan upon the wall. ‘I can’t think of anything else right now. Can we change the subject?’
He wasn’t in any state to have a calm and logical conversation, and even though her yearning to know more about what he had done was deep-rooted, she relented to his plea and commented on the photograph.
‘I have many more. Follow me.’
They moved into the dining room. There was a small table and chairs on one side, and a desk housing a computer on the other. He grabbed her a chair, flicked on the screen, and clicked on an icon. The screen filled with photos, all of them of Ethan, and the little boy was laughing, playing, or posing for the camera. In most, his eyes shone, his effervescence unmistakable.
Brittany shared her admiration with Jason.
He enlarged an image. ‘This is my favourite.’
Ethan had been caught by surprise and had his mouth open and his eyes wide.
Brittany chuckled. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’d broken a ceramic ornament of Holly’s and was burying it in the garden. I’d told him that he shouldn’t be touching it. I should have put it out of his reach.’
‘Aw, that’s so sweet.’
‘He thought he’d got away with it and couldn’t see me watching from inside the house.’
‘So you crept up on him with your camera.’
Jason grinned. ‘He never heard me. He almost jumped out of his skin.’
Brittany continued to scan the images, looking for her favourites, and pointed to one of Ethan in heels and a dress. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘I was getting rid of Holly’s clothes. I suppose he was curious.’
‘He looks adorable.’
Jason smiled and developed a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I wish Holly could have seen him.’
‘She would have been very proud . . . of both of you.’
For a while, they continued to sift through the images. It was wonderful for her to share such an intimate part of Jason’s life, and good to remove herself from her own problems. It seemed to be helping Jason too, as gradually his dulled expression was replaced with a little joy.
Jason turned to her. ‘Sorry about earlier.’
Brittany narrowed her eyes.
‘You know . . . the blubbering.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Ethan likes you, you know that?’
Brittany smiled. ‘I like him too.’
Jason fiddled with his watchstrap, then looked to her anxious and quickly turned away.
‘What’s is it?’ she asked.
‘Would you do me a favour?’
‘Of course.’
‘If anything happens to me, could you . . . could you be there for him?’
She heaved a private sigh.
Jason stood up and headed to the window. ‘Just promise . . . please.’
‘Of course I will.’
He started to pace and held his hand to his chin, thoughtful. Her ignorance and frustration gnawed at her insides, and with the intention of holding him at arms length and demanding he stopped talk
ing gibberish, she stood up. Without warning, her head was swimming with nausea and her heart pounding, loud and fast. She stumbled and fell into the desk.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, grabbing her arm.
Brittany nodded and urged her steady breaths. Her failing body was the last thing she wanted to him to witness. ‘Can I just pop to your bathroom?’
‘Of course. It’s at the top of the stairs. Are you sure you can get there?’
She nodded, and with a determined effort walked away, rigidly placing one foot in front of the other in an awkward gait. Once in the bathroom, she flopped on the edge of the bath, released a moan, and breathed regular and forced breaths.
The bathroom suite was white and plain. There were scratches in the bath, soapy residue in the sink, and the toilet had a stained bowl. She paid a visit and washed her hands and gazed at the small white cabinet. Placed on the top, was a packet of cheap supermarket value-brand soap and toothbrushes, and on the floor in a small bin, was packaging from cheap pack of toilet roll. Money was obviously tight.
After a few minutes and feeling much stronger, she left the room. Across the small landing was a bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and upon the bedside cabinet was what looked like a bank statement. Drawn by a curiosity of Jason’s situation, she tiptoed to the room.
Brittany’s jaw dropped as she lifted the sheet of paper. Pencilled alongside a withdrawal for a large amount of money was Dr Jerry O’Riordan’s name. It was understandable that Jason would do what he could to save his boy, but this seemed a little extreme, as she wasn’t altogether sure it would bring the right results.
What happened when someone couldn’t afford to pay for special treatment? Were they the ones to die? The consequences were immeasurable, yet rather than lingering on the how’s and the what-ifs she wondered why no progress had been made in relation to his son’s case. Was it money for nothing or had Jason asked for it back?
She had to confront him, but that would mean admitting to her snooping. She gulped her anxieties, dreading his response, and convinced herself an enquiry would amount to nothing. Jason was unlikely to divulge his secret, given that he had already spoken of the subject and still hadn’t trusted her enough to make his situation clear. More than likely, it would cause him needless distress as well as adding more friction in their already rocky relationship.