by Anna Bloom
“Happy Valentines Day,” I screech, my best, bravest voice in place. I’m carrying a bunch of giant red heart balloons; those foil ones that take off into the sky given half a chance.
“Ah, you remembered.” Freddy sounds sleepy, but he pushes himself back using his arms so he can sit up straighter.
“Like I’m going to forget,” I gabber excitedly, trying to lift the atmosphere in his unbearably quiet room. “How you feeling, Handsome?” I lean down and sweep my lips across his, the sensation of their touch sending a spark through me. Leaning back, I examine his face, his eyes are still shadowed where a lack of sleep and physical exertion have left their weary mark, and he has a fair stubble across his jaw, which looks downright gorgeous. “You shouldn’t be allowed to sit looking like this in the hospital, you’re going to put all the nurses off their work.” I rub my hand across his cheek, making a satisfactory scratching sound. Unable to resist, I place my lips against his again, this time for longer, searching for more.
“It’s you that looks gorgeous.” The ocean blues sweep over me when he breaks our kiss, admiration in their glance. “I miss you, Amber French.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. What he means is he misses being alone with me, and underneath that is his worry the accident may have broken more than just the use of his legs.
‘Bah, you’re glad to be in here, escaping my endless advances.”
He laughs, his eyes starting to light up. “So I haven’t done much for Valentines, you know, I’ve been a tad busy, lots of work on, no time for girly shit like Valentines.”
I laugh. “Girly shit? What is girly shit exactly?”
“This?” He slides a small flat package towards me.
“You bought me a gift? I just got you some hideous balloons!”
“Open it,” he urges. I rip the paper off, letting it fall to the sterilised floor. Inside is a picture frame holding a pencil sketch of Freddy and I the night we danced in his dad’s garage.
“How did you do this?” I gush. My hands give a small shake as I take in every detail of the picture. I can recall all too clearly every moment he’s captured, the pressure of his palm in the base of my spine and the rush of blood to the surface of my skin when his fingertips brushed along the sensitised surface. That was the night he told me he thought I was heavenly, the most romantic thing I’d ever heard. The night he gave me his mothers locket, the night he told me maybe he was in love with me.
“It’s just in case I don’t get to dance with you again, just so you never forget.”
Tears well up and roll their way down my cheeks. “I’m never going to forget dancing that bad.” I laugh through my snotty tears.
“What are you implying?”
‘Your dancing is truly terrible?”
“How rude.” He grins and uses gentle fingers to wipe tears away from my face. “I’m sorry this isn’t the Valentines I was hoping to have with you, Amber French.”
“Well, it’s not all down to you, and a good thing too.” I pretend to be stern but can’t keep it up long. “Come on, Freddy, you can’t lay about like a lazy bastard all day long.” I tug his hand using a firm grip and encourage him to sit up straighter.
“Lazy bastard? Your words wound me,” he teases, allowing me to manhandle him without any resistance.
Finally, when he’s sitting upright, I lean in and kiss him on the mouth, firm, sure, and confident. “Trust me, Freddy?”
The dark blues hold mine. ”Yes.”
“Good, we are going for a ride.”
Now, I’ve seen the nurses do this many times, so I’m sure I can do it, but nerves make me apprehensive. I don’t want to hurt him. That would defeat the purpose of the day.
I lift his legs a couple of inches from the mattress and swing them for the side of the bed, guiding them around so when I’m finished, his feet are dangling over the edge. He’s heavier than I was expecting, and my respect for the nurses who do this twice a day triples instantly.
I glance up at Freddy, trying not to show my exertion, which involves some serious heavy breathing. He’s biting his lip, a look of annoyance across his face. Well that won’t do.
“Seriously, Fred, you’re a heavy bugger. I think you need to go on a diet.” He laughs the loudest I’ve heard in weeks. “Actually,” I continue, “you’re gonna have to do some of this yourself, I’m worried about my back.”
Gradually he shifts his way to the end of the mattress, pushing himself up on his palms and swinging his hips with every go. Then he looks at me expectantly. “What now, Miss. Organise It?”
Shit, the wheelchair!
I dash for the chair. I probably should have got this first. What a dick.
“There is no way you can get me in that thing.” He eyes the chair vehemently. He hates the wheelchairs. I think it’s the use of them that’s been getting him so down. This is one of the wide porter chairs designed for overweight people, which Freddy really isn’t, despite my jesting. The staff have offered him his own chair over and over again, promising if he had his freedom to wheel around, he’d feel better, but he’s refused outright. So it’s the obese chair for now.
“Watch me,” I state. Then I hold my hands on my hips and make a show of breathing in and out, building myself up, like a weightlifter at the Olympics. Finally I have him in the chair, and I give myself an imaginary clap on the back.
I might not be able to move tomorrow but it will be totally worth it.
“Right then. Lets do this.” I kiss the top of his head and speed for the door. Freddy searches around for a seatbelt.
“Shit, I survived a full on motor crash, but I’m about be done in by my girlfriend and a wheelchair.” He grips the arms of the chair for effect, but then I make him squeal when I misjudge a slope and nearly put him face first into a wall.
The joking slows down as we make our way through the maze of corridors, Freddy has probably never seen them properly, but for me, they are starting to feel like home. I begin to give him a tour.
“And this is where I get my chocolate stash from,” I point out to the vending unit. “And here is where your dad gets that terrible coffee.”
He laughs. “That stuff even smells rank.”
“It’s beyond rank, take my word for it.”
Eventually we get to the double doors. ‘Are you trying to bust me out of this joint?” He glances up at me, his eyes dancing.
“Call it day release.” I steer the chair through the sliding double doors. The freshness of the air hits us and I watch Freddy drag lungful’s of the stuff into his body. I’m glad I had the foresight to hang Freddy’s jacket on the back of the chair as we left his room. I drop it onto his lap and he quickly shrugs it over his shoulders. Taking my time so he can enjoy the slice of freedom I’m offering, I walk us around the outside of the building until I reach the small memorial garden built into a courtyard. High walls give the garden some privacy, and the cold weather ensures there is no one else here. Not even the hardened smokers who like to lurk out of sight.
In the middle of the garden is the most miraculous sight. Centre stage is a huge cherry tree, it’s branches bowed under the strain of a thousand blossoms. It’s far too early for blossom, but according to the sign under the tree, it was a gift from some far off country and blooms early.
It’s quite breathtaking and Freddy looks up in wonder at it as I park us underneath, positioning his chair near a cracked wooden bench. From underneath I pull out tartan blankets, which I tuck over our legs and a flask of hot chocolate and various other chocolate-based goodies.
“Thank you,” he says once we are settled. His eyes are dark and intent on me. “I was going crazy in there, it feels like I can breathe better out here.”
I smile, thrilled my plan is working. “It’s not forever, Freddy, if anyone can do this, you can.”
His fingers grip mine. “How do you know?”
“Because I believe in you, you’re magic remember?” I lean in and kiss him. “You can do this, we can do
this.”
His face tells me he’s not convinced but I plow on regardless. “Two months ago I didn’t know you, now you are all I see.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers his voice so low I can barely hear it.
“What for?”
“For everything, putting you through this, the crash, not being able to bloody walk already.”
“Oh shut up, I’m going to have to punish you if you keep saying things like that.”
“And how exactly do you plan to punish me, young lady? Take my arms away?” He laughs though, so I know he’s not being serious.
Glancing at the little sign on the side of the chair I do some quick calculations. “I’m going to squish you.” I move from my perch on the bench and clamber onto his legs, the whole time praising the lord for the extra wide chair I picked up from the porters station. Once there, I kiss him deeply as I feel his hands wrap around me tight.
We sit there for the longest time, kissing, hugging, laughing, as the heart shaped cherry blossoms flutter to the wintery ground around us.
Finally, with a sigh, he pulls away. “As lovely as this is, Amber French, you really are rather heavy and I might have to ask you to move.”
At first neither of us comprehend what he’s said, then both our eyes widen at once. “Can you feel me, Freddy?” My voice raises two pitches in excitement and my heart picks up a staccato beat.
“I don’t know, can I?”
“I don’t know, can you?” I pinch his leg hard and wait for a reaction. “What about that?”
He cocks his head to the side as he thinks. “I’m not sure, I can’t not feel it, though. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to bruise, you bully.”
I start to cry again, even though I don’t want to. A river of relief runs down my cheeks, spreading my makeup.
Freddy doesn’t look sure. “It can’t be, the doctors said it would take months.”
I laugh and kiss him through my tears. “It’s just like I told you, Freddy, you’re made of magic.”
A breeze picks up through the garden, raining more hearts down onto us, and a clear ray of sunshine finds us through the dark and tells me that spring and hope are at last on their way.
RECOVERY
“So, you know you should be at school?” calls a breezy voice from the doorway. Freddy and I both groan and his head drops softly onto my shoulder in despair.
Grant, Freddy’s younger and definitely more annoying brother stomps into the room and flings himself down on the visitors chair. He arrived back from Australia three days after Freddy opened his eyes and don’t we all know about it. If Henry was put on the earth to be a grouchy bad tempered bastard, then Grant was put on it to annoy the shit out of everyone.
“Stay still, he might not know we are here,” Freddy whispers into my ear. Like we could be anywhere else.
Glaring at Grant, I extricate myself from Freddy’s arms. Our time alone together is so frustratingly limited, I’m seriously pissed it’s being disturbed. Freddy has rigorous physio every morning and has been for months. He cried the first time he went, and the second and the third, breaking my heart with every tear that spilled form his eyes. But now it’s mid-March and Freddy can walk slowly with sticks. It’s been a long arduous journey. After Valentines Day, when he first got the slightest sensation of movement back, he’s been hell bent to fight the challenges facing him. He’s learnt everything from scratch and the doctors are astounded by how quickly he’s progressed. Freddy told me it’s just his single determination to get out of that hospital bed and get home so we can have sex again. Sexy time is not allowed at the hospital, and I say, hell, any motivation is good motivation.
“I’m not going to school.” I say loudly so Grant knows he doesn’t need to come and take over Freddy watch. We all like to make sure he’s not alone; it’s the one thing we all agree on. Before Valentines, it was because we were worried he was slipping into a dark place where depression occupied his mind, but now everyone mainly sits by his side, takes the piss and eggs him to get on with it.
The sodding annoying thing is school. Bloody school. They were supportive for a while, back in the early days but the more time that passed, the less they accepted my boyfriend being in hospital as an excuse for not doing any work, or even being there.
I don’t care. I can’t see further than Freddy, he’s all I see.
Freddy grins at me and shifts himself into a sitting position. His eyes dance like they used to and I feel my heart squeeze in response. ‘Go to school, Amber French, that’s not a request it’s an order.”
“Blah blah, who put you in charge?”
“I’m in charge of everything, you know that!”
He is. His brother’s are constantly in here asking questions about this and that. Freddy has a stash of paper and pencils to sketch out designs for the business. Charles tries his best to make them, with Grant bumbling along, moaning about being dragged into the business, but it’s clear Freddy is the nexus the rest of them orbit around. Sometimes when I’m lonely at night, or my tiredness catches up with me, I hit my low point and I wonder what our lives would have been like if Freddy had died in that crash. It’s not worth thinking about.
With a stroppy little huff, I grab my stuff. “Don’t wind him up,” I warn Grant with a stern wag of my finger.
“She’s cute when she’s bossy.”
“She’s cute all the time,” Freddy laughs as he leans up for a lingering kiss on the lips.
“I’ll be back later,” I speak against his mouth, unwilling to break the contact of our lips.
“You need to go home and fill in your application forms.” He looks directly in my eyes and I suppress a groan.
The successful completion of my Uni application forms is the only argument we have. I came in a few weeks ago and found his bed covered in prospectuses as he ripped through them all trying to find the perfect course for me. I was shocked he even thought I would be able to leave, which I told him in no uncertain terms. I didn’t say I was never going to go, I just said I didn’t want to go if he was still in hospital and as we didn’t know when he was going to leave, there was no point in me applying. That went down like a sack of shit. He got so agitated I had to back down and pretend I would still read the damn brochures and apply. I’m not. I’ve filled in the application form for Suffolk University and that’s all I plan to do. I can commute there.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave off his concern and head for the door.
At school, I quickly seek out Danni, who is buried in the library under a stack of books. Interested glances follow my journey through the school grounds. I’ve gone from being nobody to being the girlfriend of a "cripple." If everyone was surprised when I managed to catch Freddy Bale in the first place, then they are even more surprised I’ve stayed with him now he is no longer the hot boy in the flash cars. I don’t know what this judgment says about me. I’m going to go with not good.
“The wondering child returns,” Danni goads, as I fling my bag down. It’s a free period before double maths. The maths is becoming increasingly harder with the less time I spend working on it.
‘Shut it,” I grouch and slide myself down in a chair, not bothering to open any books.
“Okay, you do realise you still have to pass your A-levels to get into Suffolk, you still need to do some work.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m just tired.”
Danni’s eyes flit over me. “Amber, you’ve got to get some rest, you are like a walking zombie, and you’ve lost so much weight it’s hard to recognise you.”
I have lost weight, nearly a couple of stone. I’m no longer dumpy— which isn’t a bad thing. “You’re just jealous.” A small smile lifts my mouth so she knows I’m not being serious.
Danni laughs. “Yes, I am totally jealous of the desperate, tragic, love affair which is grinding your life to a halt.”
“Oh, shut up.” I put my head on the table and contemplate half an hour of shuteye. Danni lifts my chin.
&nb
sp; “Thing is, Freddy’s going to see this too, how do you think he feels about himself knowing he’s done this?” Her words make me shift uncomfortably.
“Freddy’s cool, we are cool,” I state, but I’m not speaking the whole truth. The arguments about Uni and the pressure he feels about his dad and brothers doing his work, and the frustration he feels at being stuck in that place all the time is taking it’s toll.
As far as I can see, there is no easy path for us right now, we’ve just got to get through this bit, then everything will be okay.
Everything will be okay.
“Alright, Amber, cool it is.” Danni has been introduced to Grant, and he’s rubbing off on her and not in a good way.
Putting my head down, I shut my eyes, willing the day to be over.
* * *
The house is in darkness when I get home. This is good because it means I can get in and out without an interrogation. I’m half way down the hallway when I realise I’ve been foiled. Mum is sat at the kitchen table, a bundle of papers and a glossy booklet in front of her.
Damn it.
“When were you going to tell me about this?” She slides the booklet towards me, not that I need to see it any closer. I recognise the Suffolk University prospectus from across the room.
Amongst the papers is my application form for Suffolk. She picks it up and skims the contents, her lips set in a firm line and the frown of doom twists her face into a bitter mask. I fidget and wait, my internal body temperature getting hotter and more uncomfortable with every passing moment. Turning, I scrutinise the kitchen. It’s funny, when you live somewhere you don’t see it that clearly. My many hours spent at the hospital has made me see my childhood home with fresh eyes. In the kitchen, the paper on the walls looks dated, the colour too beige, too bland, like Crème Caramel left over from a seventies dinner party, reminiscent of a time past when beige ruled the world.
Finally she speaks. “So is this it then?”
“What?” I’m being difficult. This conversation would probably go much easier if I didn’t act like a stroppy teenager.