by Jane Lark
I didn’t know how long it took before the pain ebbed enough for me to let her go, but I felt better–stronger. I was ready to go back in and be the stone pillar Mom, Robin and Dillon needed.
“Do you want to go back?” she whispered into the air between us. There was no judgment, or pity, or anything to annoy me, only support.
“Yeah.” God, I couldn’t believe this was Portia. Arrogant, belligerent, upper-class, Portia, who I’d had a drunken fondle with on New Year’s Eve, just ‘cause I fancied the look of her. Now… now… This girl was the sun to me.
“Come on.” She took my hand and pulled me back toward the hospital entrance.
The hospital seemed bright, after being outside in the dark.
I hadn’t wanted her to tell me everything was gonna be alright, but as we walked through the corridors, I felt it and said it to myself over and over.
Her blue eyes looked at me as we waited for the elevator, asking if I was okay.
“I’m okay. Sorry to drag you in to all this.”
“I don’t feel dragged, I want to help.”
The elevator bell chimed, then the doors slid open. It was empty.
I pulled her into it, leaned back against the metal, and drew her against me. She pressed the button.
Before the doors were even closed, I pressed my mouth down on hers. Her tongue weaved about mine as her fingers gripped my neck. It was complete freedom for a couple of minutes until the bell rang, telling us we were there. My forehead rested against hers as we caught our breath and the doors slid open.
There was cop standing there.
Shit.
She moved away from me. But I gripped her hand and kept her close.
“Justin Preston?”
Play along, keep calm. “Yeah.”
Chapter Eleven
I was sitting in a side room facing the cop who’d played welcoming committee outside the elevator. They’d taken the room over to begin an investigation. There was another cop in the corner.
“And you’re sure you don’t know the names of any of the guys you say you saw in the stairwell.” They’d asked me the same question four times.
“Yes.” And I was fighting to keep the anger and annoyance out of my voice. It was like they thought I was caught up in it. Like I’d stabbed my own brother.
“And you have never, been involved with any gang?” Third time for that question. They were just asking them in a different order, like they thought they’d catch me out, and I’d say, yes.
“The answer is no. Never. Ever. I’m not into any of that. I bring up my brothers, and I’m bringing them up to avoid that crap. They aren’t gonna avoid it if I was in a gang. I don’t know how someone got their claws into Jake, and I haven’t asked him ‘cause he’s been in surgery…” I was tired. They’d been on at me for an hour, and I had nothing to tell them.
The cop in front of me had been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, while the other one scribbled down stuff. He leaned back now. His eyes staring at me as if silence was going to break me and make me admit I’d done it.
I stared him out, but tried to keep my expression from getting angry. Just let him see, I had nothing to say.
“Well, I guess you can go back to your Mom and your girl, but send your brother, Robin, in here.”
Cool. Robin was in no state to handle this. But there was no choice. He’d have to deal with it. I just hoped he remembered everything I’d taught him about handling cops. Stay calm and say as little as you have to, otherwise they wrapped your own words up against you.
“Thanks.” I nodded at the guy as I stood, feeling the heaviness of exhaustion in my limbs. It must be nearly two a.m.
Apparently, when we’d first come to the hospital, they’d been down at the site of the incident, gathering evidence there. I’d been told that, like it was meant to put the shit up me, because I’d think they’d discovered evidence against me.
Before I went out the door, I looked at them both. “Robin is nothing to do with this either. But once you’ve worked that out, I’d be grateful if you focus on finding the mother-fuckers who are…”
I walked out before they could answer, but the light I’d caught in their eyes before I looked away suggested they might finally believe me.
Robin was sitting next to Mom in the alcove. I couldn’t see Portia, but when I reached it, I discovered her lying across the opposite seats, her legs curled up on them and her head pillowed on her coat as she slept. Robin had been watching her, but now he looked at me, his eyes full of questions–and fear.
“They want to talk to you.”
He stood. His hand shook as it lifted to rub over his hair.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry about. You weren’t involved. Just tell them the truth … You’ll be okay.” I glanced at Mom, who was looking nervous too. She’d had enough run-ins with the cops over Dad, but for different reasons–he had been guilty of gang attacks, thefts and domestic violence.
“Mom, why don’t you go in with him? They’d probably let you, they wouldn’t let me. They’d think I was in there to threaten him into silence or somethin’. I’ll come and get you out if there’s any news on Jake.”
She stood up and nodded. She knew Robin wasn’t ready to face this. Not that she was either. But what else could she do? I looked down at Portia again, suddenly realizing Dillon wasn’t there. “Where’s–” I didn’t get the rest out before Robin pointed to a door at the back of the alcove.
“He’s in there, there’s a room with two beds for families to stay over. He couldn’t stay awake anymore. Portia could have gone in there with him, but she wanted to wait for you. She didn’t succeed though.”
I sat in the chair Robin vacated as he and Mom walked up the corridor. Portia was well and truly out-of-office, lying still and breathing quietly, looking vulnerable and beautiful–like an angel–in her short burgundy dress, stocking clad slender legs curled up on the seats. Her high-heeled shoes were left on the floor beneath the chair her head lay on.
I stood up. There was a coffee machine in the corner, I fed a couple of dollars into it and waited while it whirred, producing a cup, and then dispensed the coffee. I sat back down gripping the hot plastic. My free hand lifted to my hair, then ran over my face as a wave of tiredness hit me. I wanted to be curled up behind Portia, spooning in her bed.
I sipped the coffee, then rested it on the arm of the chair and tipped my head back against the wall behind me, shutting my eyes.
I was jolted awake by a high-pitched scream. Cold coffee spilt on my leg as I sat forward. Shit. Dillon. I put the coffee down as the handle of the room he was in rattled like mad, he was trying so hard to get out and he couldn’t. Portia sat up as I moved, her eyes blinking. She looked startled.
I turned the handle all the way around. It must be slipping through his fingers on the other side, and he screamed. He was in full on panic when the door opened.
He had bad dreams; always had done.
“It’s okay buddy.” He flew at me as I bent down, sobbing his little heart out. As I picked him up, his arms slipped about my neck, and his legs wrapped about my waist.
“Justin.” He said my name as if I was his favorite superhero–Spiderman.
I rubbed his head and pressed it to my shoulder. “It’s okay.” His tears were wet on my neck.
“I dreamed Jake was bad, and there was blood everywhere.”
My hand stilled on his head. It was stupid, because I’d known that for hours, but right then it hit me. That was what had happened. Jake was bad.
Ice ran through me chilling my whole body. “He is bad,” I said quietly. “But the doctors are taking care of him. He’s gonna be okay.” I had to believe it, because my heart and brain couldn’t cope with it any other way.
Portia gave me a closed lip smile, before mouthing. “You okay?”
Nodding, I slipped my free hand into my pocket to pull out more change. “Here. Would you get us coffees?”
I threw a look at the one I’d put down. “That’s cold.” She stood up and took the money from me.
I sat down with Dillon straddling my waist still. His face carried on pressing into my neck as I rubbed his back.
“There’s chocolate…” Portia offered. “Do you want a cup of chocolate, Dillon?”
He glanced at her and nodded, then went back into hiding. This was the way he was after a bad dream. It wasn’t just about Jake–the two of us had our routine of dealing with his dreams when Mom was out. “Take breaths,” I whispered to his ear.
As he breathed more deeply, it made the hairs on the back of my neck tickle. My next words were always, “It’s just a dream…” But this time it wasn’t just a dream…
He lifted his head and his brown eyes looked into mine. “Is Jake gonna die?”
Shit. “No, Dillon.” And now I’d promised something I couldn’t come through on. I had no control over it.
Portia put our drinks down on the table. I smiled at her. “Thanks. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”
“I do want.” She turned back to get a drink for herself.
“What time is it?”
She looked at her watch. “Just after three.” They’d been grilling Robin for an hour too.
Dillon’s cheek pressed harder against my shoulder, seeking comfort and security.
“Do you want me to read you a story?” He must still be tired, and he always fell asleep on me after he’d had a night-terror, it was part of our routine, letting him know there was someone in his life he could lean on.
“Yeah.” His breath brushed my neck again. I looked at Portia. She was just lifting her drink out of the machine. She set it down and went to the box some nurse must have brought in for him.
“A Roald Dahl,” Portia said, smiling at Dillon and picking it up. “Fantastic Mr. Fox?” Dillon nodded against my shoulder, having turned his head to watch her.
She sat next to me, opened the book and started reading. Dillon stayed tucked in against me, listening as I worked my tie loose, then he slid it off and gave it to Portia. “Put it in my coat pocket.” My coat was on the seat next to her. She kept reading as she did.
I could feel Dillon’s body relaxing as she carried on, her voice was like a lullaby, soft and musical.
He fell asleep.
She was watching him, but she read a few more lines.
When she closed the book, she looked at me. “Do you want your coffee?”
I nodded, she got it for me.
“What did the police say?”
“Nothing, apart from treating me like I’m the criminal.”
Her lips twisted sideways. “That’s shit.”
“You’re telling me, and now Robin is in there getting the same grilling, he’s in there with Mom. The dickheads.”
“But let’s hope those dickheads are going to find the people who did this to Jake.”
I gave her a grudging smile. “Yeah.”
We sat in silence then, letting Dillon sleep, but after we finished drinking the coffee, Portia gripped my hand, and we both rested our heads back against the wall.
“Justin.” The next thing I knew Mom was waking me up by gripping my knee and my eyelids flickered open. “Justin.” My gaze clung to hers. She looked worried. “They’ve said we can go and see Jake, but only two of us at a time. I’m taking Robin in first.”
He was okay …
Relief, bewilderment, grief… So many strange emotions I hadn’t known with this much intensity before fought a war for attention inside me.
Then suddenly everything that had been happening slipped back into my head. “How did it go with the cops?”
“Question after question, but I think they’re satisfied this isn’t because of anything you or Robin have done. I think they thought it was some revenge attack. They’ve spoken to Jake now too, they insisted on going in there before us. I hope it hasn’t made him worse.”
“The doctors wouldn’t have let them go in, if they thought it was a risk, Mom.”
I looked at Robin. He was standing in the corridor still shaky, and obviously desperate to see Jake.
I smiled. He smiled back. He’d grown up good. But now there was Jake… and Dillon. “Robin you can come fetch me when you’re ready to come out, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.”
They turned away.
Portia was awake and watching. “You okay?” she squeezed my hand.
“Yeah.” But tears burned my eyes. This time they were tears of relief. I looked up at the ceiling. Surely this meant Jake was gonna be okay.
But what next? None of us could go back to the flat. It wasn’t safe. If the guys who’d stabbed Jake knew the police were involved, they’d be smashing our door in within hours–and they wouldn’t give a shit who was in there. Dillon… Mom…
I spoke to the air above me. “We can’t go home, you know? I can’t take them back there. It’s too dangerous. I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”
“That stinks…” she whispered, keeping her voice down ‘cause of Dillon sleeping.
I looked at her. “It double stinks.” She laughed quietly.
“You’re a saint. You know that,” she answered once she’d sobered.
“A saint? I think you know that isn’t true, Portia.”
“It is where your brothers are concerned. I love the way you look out for them.”
“Yeah, well I failed with Jake.”
“You didn’t fail, the boy who stabbed him is the failure…”
When I looked at her I saw something catch in her eyes. “If you get out of there … ” She broke the sentence like she didn’t know quite what to say, but she finished. “Sometimes good things come from bad.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. Some stupid notion was spinning in her head, I could see it. Dillon started waking up. “You okay, buddy?”
He stretched. His brown eyes looked liquid and sleepy. “How’s Jake?”
“Awake, Dillon, and okay. Mom and Robin are with him. We can go in, in a minute, they’ll only let two of us in at a time. Do you need the bathroom?”
He nodded.
“Come on then, let’s go.”
He climbed off me. I got up and smiled at Portia, before letting him pull me down the corridor.
~
I was hungry. I thought they must be too. I decided to go down to the restaurant. I asked a nurse to say to Justin that I’d gone to find us food.
The choice was yoghurts and breakfast bars, or cookies, it was 6.00am and they hadn’t started serving anything cooked.
An idea had kicked off in my head upstairs, and it just kept spinning, as I looked at what there was to eat. It was a huge idea. But it could solve a lot of things…
I picked up a handful of the breakfast bars, paid for them and went back upstairs. Justin was in the alcove, sitting with Dillon, his hand on top of Dillon’s head, as Dillon stood in front of him talking.
I offered Justin a cereal bar. He took it. “Thanks.” What was going on between us had hit a whole other platform.
I offered Dillon one. He took it with a mumbled, “Thank you.”
Justin and I had a ton of stuff to say to each other, it was in the atmosphere, but neither of us said it because Dillon was there. We ate the breakfast bars, leaving him to talk.
When Justin’s brother, Robin, came along the corridor, he looked emotional and as if all he wanted to do was hug Justin.
I needed to go. Robin wouldn’t want to be upset in front of me. I was intruding… This wasn’t my family.
Yet… there was that idea crowding into my head again.
I stood up and looked at Justin. “You’ll want to go in and see Jake. I’ll go, leave you to it. Call me later if you want me to come back.”
He stood and gripped my arm as Dillon rushed over to Robin. “You don’t have to go, Portia.” His gaze was tender with emotion.
Yeah, our relationship had hit a whole other universe; there was way more depth in his eyes.
“I know, but Robin wants to confide in you. Call me if you need me. You’ve got your family here so you’ll be okay. I’ll go crash at home for a bit. If you need me to get anything let me know –”
“You don’t need to throw your money ‘round, it won’t fix everything, Portia.” His gaze had shuttered the instant I’d said get. Shit… Now I didn’t know what to do. That idea in my head had been growing roots and my heart had been saying–do it. I nodded…
“I know. I was being nice.”
He leaned down and kissed me, a firm press of his lips on mine, then he kissed my forehead too. “Sorry. I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah. Okay.” My heart was aching, his anger had hurt, but I knew he must have hated taking my money for Jake’s treatment.
Then he said, “Thanks.” The small word spoken with a huge weight of meaning, it wasn’t a small thing for him to say.
“Welcome.” I smiled, before turning and then walking away, my heart pounding.
I was just going to do it.
Chapter Twelve
There were machines all around Jake, and a whole bank of tubes coming out of a thing by his neck which seemed to go into his main artery. Then there were monitor pads on his chest, and a thing clipped on is finger, and a needle connecting a drip into his arm dripping blood from a bag hanging from a thing beside the bed. He looked a mess. My heart hurt.
His head turned to me. He was lying on his back, with a white sheet covering his hips and legs, and there was a bandage about twelve inches wide wrapped about his torso. Blood had seeped through it at the middle and to one side.
This was my little brother.
Mom sat in a plastic chair on the other side of his bed. The monitor next to her bleeped a steady pattern and sent various wavy lines across its screen.
Jake was still looking at me. “You okay?” I said quietly.
Stupid question. He was lying in a hospital, pierced to pieces by needles, having nearly died. But he nodded. Only a tiny movement. Then his eyes turned all shiny. He’d hate crying in front of me but even more so in front of Mom.