Just Stay

by Michelle Abbott

  “I’d really appreciate it, if you’d go check on her. She usually wakes up about now. The door is unlocked.”

  “I’ll pop over once I’ve fixed Tom’s breakfast,” she says.

  I watch the rivulets of rain water run down my windshield. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  She hangs up the phone without saying another word to me. Yeah, she’s pissed. I can’t blame her.

  An hour later, the traffic finally starts to move. We’re moving at a snail’s pace, because everyone is taking the opportunity to see what caused the hold-up. There are two cars, and they’re both trashed. I shiver. That could have been me with the way I was driving last night.

  I hear my phone’s ring-tone. I check the caller ID, it’s my neighbour. I answer, and start talking before she has chance to say anything. “I’m on my way now. If nothing else goes wrong, I should be there in about forty-five minutes.”

  “Trey. I’m at the hospital.”

  I frown. “Are you okay?” Has Mum been alone all this time? Did she get chance to check on her before she got sick?

  “I’m fine. It’s your mum.”

  My stomach drops. I pull onto the hard shoulder. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She’s stable. I’ll explain when you get here.”

  Emily is waiting for me in the reception of the A and E.

  “Where is she? Can I see her? What happened?”

  She rests her hands on my shoulders. “Calm down. She’s stable. You can go and see her; she’s in a ward on the first floor.”

  My mouth is dry and I can’t seem to stop shaking. “Tell me what happened.”

  She loops her arm through mine and leads me over to a seat. “Sit down.”

  I do as she says. I feel dizzy and I don’t want to fall over.

  “Let me get you a coffee and I’ll explain everything.”

  She comes back holding a plastic cup, filled with coffee. I take a sip, and flinch as the hot liquid burns my lips. She puts her arm around my shoulders.

  “When I went in this morning to check on her, she seemed drowsy, and pale, and her skin felt clammy.”

  I place my cup of coffee on the floor. I don’t need a stimulant, my heart is racing enough already.

  “I tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t responding. So I called for an ambulance.”

  I nod my head. What I really want to do is tell her to hurry up and get to the damn point.

  “While I waited for the ambulance, I covered her with her duvet to keep her warm. I was going to use your phone to call Tom, it was then that I saw the pills, and the note.”

  I frown at her. “What pills? What note?”

  “I can’t remember what they were called.” She rubs her forehead. “The name began with an ‘a’, ami, something.”

  I stare at her. “Amitriptyline?”

  “Yes, that was it.” She wrenches her hands together

  I shake my head. “That’s not possible. I always lock…” I replay it in my mind. I was stressed. I unlocked the medicine cupboard, took out two pills. I got her some water, and left the pills on her table. I don’t remember locking the cupboard. Oh God, no. “You mentioned something about a note.”

  “Yes. The Doctor is going to speak to you about that.”

  “I want to go and see her, now.”

  Mum’s eyes are closed, and she looks pale. I concentrate on the sound of the heart monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep. At least she’s breathing. She’s attached to a drip. I sit in the chair beside her bed, and reach for her hand. It feels cold. “I’m sorry Mum. I should never have left you.” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Get well, please. I love you.”

  The curtain is pulled open, and a woman with dark skin, wearing a white coat enters the cubicle. She holds out her hand and introduces herself.

  I shake her hand. “I’m her son. Is she going to be okay?”

  “She’s stable.” The Doctor picks up the medical notes that were clipped to the end of Mum’s bed. She studies the notes as she continues to talk. “She was drowsy and unresponsive when she was brought in. She also suffered a seizure.” She pulls up a chair and sits down beside me. “I understand your mother was prescribed Amitriptyline, for depression and anxiety.”

  I nod my head.

  “Did she appear to be more depressed than usual?”

  I twist my bracelets around my wrist. “She’s been that way for a long time.”

  “And who takes care of her?”

  “Me.” I hang my head. I haven’t done so good with that.

  “Do you have any other help?”

  I shake my head. “She doesn’t want to go into a home.” I need to change the subject. “I was told she’d written a note.”

  “Yes.” The Doctor pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket, and hands it to me. “You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t expect there to be any change in her condition today.” She stands, and holds her hand out to me once again. “Leave your telephone number at reception, we’ll keep you updated.”

  As soon as she leaves, I open the note. It’s Mum’s handwriting. There are only a few words.

  I’m sorry. I don’t want to live anymore. I’ve lost everyone I love. I’m going to heaven to be with Jowan.

  I screw up the paper and throw it across the cubicle. I stare at Mum. The beeping of the heart monitor is beginning to irritate me. I hold her hand. “You haven’t lost everyone.” My voice sounds rough, and croaky. “You’ve got me. I still love you. Why can’t you love me?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Trey

  As soon as I open the door to the house, Bisley dashes past my feet, out into the street. I guess he’s fed up, having been shut inside all day. I try calling Pia’s number, but it goes straight to voice mail. I send her a text, saying that I need to talk to her. I don’t mention what happened to Mum, because I don’t want to guilt her into speaking to me. Oh who am I kidding. I’d do anything to get her to talk to me. But I don’t want to tell her via text, and if she won’t take my calls, she’s not going to listen to a voice message from me. I toss my wallet and keys onto my desk, and collapse onto my bed. I’m so exhausted; I can’t even be bothered to get under my duvet. I close my eyes.

  I’m woken by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The sun is setting. I must have been asleep for a few hours, but I still feel drained. Whoever it is, they ring the doorbell again. It might be news about Mum, but the Doctor said she’d call me. I check my phone. No missed calls, and no messages. I open the door to find my neighbour standing there. She looks worried.

  “Were you able to get some sleep?” she asks.

  Yeah, until you woke me up. I rub my eyes. “Yeah, some.”

  “Good, good. Erm, your cat, is he indoors?”

  I frown at her. What the fuck. She’s woken me up just to ask about Bisley. I lean against the door frame. I need to go back to sleep. “He shot out when I got home. I don’t think he liked being cooped up inside all day.”

  She looks down at her feet. “Oh dear.”

  Oh dear what?

  She looks up at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear there were tears in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry. I found him in my driveway. I wrapped him up in an old blanket.”

  My sleep addled brain is trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about.

  “Whoever hit him must have left him in my driveway.”

  Wait. What? Hit him! I push past her, and rush outside. I call back over my shoulder. “Where is he? Is he badly hurt?”

  She comes running after me, and grabs hold of my arm.

  “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.”

  Dead. My feet carry me to her driveway. I kneel down and peel back the edge of the blanket. No. No, no, no. I struggle to breathe. I turn my head, and vomit. She’s saying something to me, but I can’t understand a word. Tears prick my eyes. His head. Crushed. I cry out, bury my head in my hands, and sob. He deserved a better ending than that. I scramble to my feet. I can feel the te
ars on my cheeks and the snot running from my nose, but I don’t care. “Who did it? I’ll fucking kill them.”

  She reaches out to lay her hand on my shoulder, but I shrug her off. I scoop up Bisley in the blanket, and carry him through to my garden. I dig a hole, place Bisley into it, and cover him with the earth. “Rest in peace little buddy.” My voice is shuddering, I can’t stop crying. “You’re the only one who loved me, and I love you. I’ll see you again one day.”

  Back in the kitchen, I open a bottle of wine. I don’t have the energy to move into the lounge. I sink to the kitchen floor and drink the wine straight from the bottle. I can’t be bothered to get a glass. I reach for the phone and try calling Pia again. When she doesn’t answer, I hurl the phone across the room. What’s the point. She doesn’t want me. My parents don’t want me. Jo is dead. Bisley is dead.

  I finish the bottle of wine, and open another. I may as well be dead too. I’ve got nothing and no one to live for. I get to my feet, and drag myself to the bathroom. I take another swig of wine, before opening the medicine cabinet. Mum has plenty of pills I could use to overdose. I put the wine bottle to my lips. I can’t take her pills, she needs them. I pick up my razor from the edge of the wash basin. I remove the blade and run my thumb along it. It’s sharp. I could use it to cut my wrists, or my throat. I drink some more wine. I can’t. Mum will find my dead body. I can’t expect her to deal with that shit. I sink to the floor, next to the bath, and swig more wine. I’m a horrible person. Mum is in hospital because I left her alone. If I’d have been here, it wouldn’t have happened. If I’d been here, Bisley would have been indoors with me, and he’d still be alive. I’ve upset Pia because I’m an asshole. I swallow what remains of the wine. I don’t deserve to live.

  I close the door to the house, and head towards the beach. I have double vision and I’m having trouble walking in a straight line. I giggle. Why am I laughing? This is not funny. The beach is mostly dark; the only light comes from the pub. The tide is in, and I can hear the waves. I spot a few boats moored off in the distance. At least I think they’re boats. I wade out into the sea, the waves almost knock me over a few times. I giggle. When the water reaches my waist, I catch my breath. It’s freezing. I shiver as the waves hit my chest. The water is now up to my chin. I kick my legs up and float on my back. I gaze up at the stars. Jo is probably up there, in heaven somewhere. “Hey Jo, Bisley” I call out, “meet me at the gates.” I close my eyes. If I just let go, and don’t fight it, I’ll sink. They’ll all be better off without me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Trey

  Two months later….

  My counsellor leans back in his chair, and steeples his fingers. “Anything you decide to tell me is confidential. Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

  I glance around at the bare, magnolia coloured walls. I shrug. “Not really.”

  “Well. How about we start with your attempted suicide.”

  I snort. Yeah, I couldn’t even do that right. “What about it?”

  He takes a sip from his glass of water. “Why did you decide not to go through with it?”

  This room has no window. Perhaps they’re worried their patients might smash the glass and slit their wrists. “At first, it felt good. Peaceful. I didn’t have to worry about being good enough anymore.” I take a sip from my plastic cup of water. My throat is dry. “For a while, I felt nothing. And then, I thought about my girl.” I miss her every second of every day. “I thought, how is she going to feel, when she finds out I killed myself? She might think it was her fault.” I place my cup back on the table. “I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t lay that kind of guilt on her.” Because I know what that feels like.

  He rests his hands in his lap, and crosses his legs at the ankles. He looks chilled out. “What happened?”

  There’s a spider plant on the table. It’s the only decoration in the room. The leaves are brown and dry. “I was underwater. I fought my way back to the surface. I couldn’t breathe; I was coughing.” I twist my bracelets around my wrists. “The waves kept hitting me in the face. The water was freezing; my arms and legs felt like lead. It was hard to move.” I close my eyes, and re-live the experience. “I tried to get to the beach, but it never seemed to get any closer. I couldn’t feel my body.”

  He stares at me. His face is like a mask, it doesn’t give away what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s thinking about what he’s going to have for dinner. He probably hears this shit every day.

  “You’re sitting here now. So you didn’t give up.”

  I pick at the hem of my t-shirt. “I imagined she was on the beach. I told myself if I don’t get there, she’ll die. I made myself believe that I had to get there to save her.” Save her from the kind of guilt I’ve been feeling.

  I glance across at him. His eyes are closed. He must sense me looking at him because he opens his eyes.

  “What happened once you made it to the beach?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I must have passed out. I woke up in hospital. The nurse told me that two kids found me lying on the beach. They thought I was dead.”

  He nods his head. “How are things now?”

  Lonely. “Better. My mum is out of hospital. They didn’t put her into a home.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Did you think they would?”

  I lean forward and rest my forearms on my knees. “Yes. I figured they’d think I wasn’t fit to take care of her.”

  He scribbles something on his note pad. “And how is that working out for you?”

  I tip the water from my cup into the spider plant’s pot. Maybe I can save its life. “They’ve changed Mum’s meds.” I pick up the empty cup, and crush it. “The Doctor that was taking care of my mum, she contacted Social Services. So now we have a nurse who comes in every day, and charity volunteers. They sit and talk to Mum, and they take her out.”

  He clicks the end of his pen. “Which gives you more time for yourself.”

  Is he trying to say I’m selfish for wanting that? I clench my fists. “It means I can work. Earn money. Take care of her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong in wanting a life for yourself, Trey.”

  Okay, maybe I’m over reacting. “I’ve got a job, cooking at my local pub.” I shrug. “It’s a start. I enjoy it.”

  “And how is your relationship with your mother?”

  The door opens and someone pokes their head into the room. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise this room was in use.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A little better. She’s more content, but I’ll never be Jo.”

  He leans forward. “Jo is your brother?”

  “Yeah. My perfect, dead brother.”

  He scribbles some more on his pad. “You said you had a girlfriend.”

  I stare at the spider plant. I haven’t saved it. I’ve just given it a reprieve. “I messed things up. I haven’t heard from her.”

  “Have you tried to contact her?”

  I glance at my watch. I need to leave for work soon. “Not since I tried to kill myself.” I pick at the hole in my jeans. “What would I say? You were the reason I didn’t kill myself, and oh, I’ve got a job, working for minimum wage.” I shake my head. “She deserves better.” But I’d give anything to have one more chance with her.

  The kitchen is now closed. It’s been a busy night, mostly locals. Phil let me create some dishes to add to the menu, chilli crab, Thai curry, and a coconut creme brulee. Every time I make it, I’m reminded of Pia, smothered in sun cream. I’m wiping down the bar when I hear the pub door open.

  “Can I see the menu?”

  “Sorry we’re clo-” The words die on my lips as I gaze into Pia’s eyes.

  She smiles at me, and leans her forearms on the bar. “Closed, huh. That’s a pity. I’m feeling kind of hungry.”

  I drop the cloth. I stare at her. Is it really her, or am I hallucinating? My mouth is dry, and my heart is doing a tap dance. I lean across the bar. “Hungry fo
r what?”

  She presses her lips against mine. “You.”

  My brain ceases to function, as all my blood rushes to my dick. I swallow. “It’s not on the menu, but I can fix it for you.” I can’t believe she’s standing here in front of me. I want to leap on the bar and set off party streamers. “What are you doing here? Are you on vacation from uni?”

  She sucks on her bottom lip. My fingers grip the bar.

  “I was hoping I could stay with you for the weekend. My classes begin on Monday.”

  I reach across the bar and run my fingers through her hair. “I think we can arrange that.” I can’t believe she’s here. To see me. She still wants me. “How did you know I was working here?”

  She slips her hand into mine. “Is it too late to get a drink?”

  I grin at her. “No. What do you want?”

  “Wine would be good.”

  I pour us both a glass of Chardonnay, and we sit at one of the tables.

  “Ash is still in contact with Fay. He told her everything that happened to you,” she says.

  I hold her hand, afraid if I let her go, she’ll disappear. “Me and Ash, we kind of fell out.”

  “Well, you should give him a second chance. He felt bad about what happened. He didn’t realise you were having so many problems.” She gazes down at her wine glass. “Neither did I.”

  If he’s the reason she’s here. He’s already forgiven. A glint of silver around her neck catches my eye. I reach out to touch it. “Is that a silver pasty?”

  She bites her lip. “Yeah. I bought it when I first came here.” She slips the pendant off her neck, and passes it to me. “I bought it for you. A reminder of our pasty baking session.”