by Maria Farrer
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t think I’m going to like what I’m about to hear. I’m not sure I’ve got anywhere else to go with my guilt. It’d be easier not to know, but I’m not going to have that luxury. Dr Levine is already speaking.
“I have two teenage children, not far off your age. We moved to our house about three months ago to be nearer to the hospital.”
The word hospital makes me focus harder.
“Our son, Jeremy, is very sick.” Dr Levine stops to clear his throat and take a few breaths. “He’s waiting for a heart transplant. If a heart doesn’t become available soon, he may not survive. I suppose you could say he’s living on borrowed time.”
I try to shut out the words. The memories of Liam are too close. I can almost feel him sitting on my shoulder. And Gran is silent beside me. She and Jeremy could’ve been in the same ward.
“My wife spent a lot of time making our new home a special place for us to be, a place for Jeremy to come home to on the rare occasions when he is allowed out of hospital. You’ve destroyed all that. Someone even threw eggs at the walls. I can understand why people want to take things, but why would they throw eggs?”
It’s such a small, insignificant thing. Eggs. Yet this is what he chooses to focus on. Destruction for destruction’s sake.
I press the palms of my hands into my eyes to try to black out the pictures in my head.
“Since it happened, my wife and daughter are scared to go home, scared even to open a window. Every time we walk into the house, we relive the memory of that day. Every time we walk out, we wonder what might happen while we’re not there. Who is watching?” His fingers are tapping fast on the table. “We were barely coping as it was. Now it’s almost unbearable. If you’d knocked on the door and asked me for money or whatever else you wanted, I would’ve given to you. Anything rather than this.”
“But I didn’t want anything,” I say shaking my head.
He frowns into a long silence. “You’re telling me you just did it for fun?”
“NO! I did it because I was scared – and a bit drunk.”
Dr Levine flops back in his chair. If only I could really explain. I know about hearts and death and fear. I know how he feels. I do. Except I’m somehow responsible for his suffering and for his family’s too. We are on opposite sides of the table, opposite sides of the law. If I hadn’t been with the boys that day, would they have gone ahead? If only they’d chosen a different house – any other house. Siân said this meeting would help. I don’t think it’s helping any of us. I can’t change what’s happened. I can’t make him understand. I can’t do anything. And that’s wrong. That’s not fair.
“Amber,” says Siân. “Is there anything you would like to say to Dr Levine?”
There’s everything I’d like to say, but I don’t know how to say it or even if to say it. No one tries to prompt me this time. I hadn’t planned for this. Do I tell my story? Will it make a difference or will it make things worse? I can see Gran’s fingers. She’s twisting her wedding ring round and round. Her foot edges towards mine, as if she’s trying to kick me to get me started.
“My brother died a year ago. He was eighteen. He had a heart attack while he was out running with a friend.” I tell it in a flat voice, like it’s the dullest story you’ve ever heard. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. “It’s been difficult – for everyone. I never meant to get into trouble. I was stupid and got involved with the wrong group of people. I didn’t know anything about what they were going to do to your house until right before it happened. I had to do what I was told. I didn’t want to. Then I got caught. And now I’m here and I’m very sad for your son and what I’ve done to your family and I wish there was something I could do. But I can’t change what’s happened. It’s too late.”
I don’t feel like I’ve said what I want to say, but it’s hard to pick the right words.
Dr Levine has his face in his hands. Slowly, he slides his hands downwards, pulling the skin as he goes, draining the last remaining colour from his cheeks.
Siân allows time for everyone to settle. It’s all so hopeless.
“Ruby,” Siân says, looking at Gran. “Is there anything you would like to add?”
“Only that I know my granddaughter is not a bad person. She’s a family girl, a bright girl and a kind girl. She’s never been in trouble before. She’s had a rough ride for the last year and there are a number of us to blame for that, myself included. If I hadn’t encouraged Amber to get out a bit more, I don’t think she’d have got herself into this situation. But she did and we can’t turn back the clock. Thank you, Dr Levine, for giving Amber the chance to meet you and for telling us about your family. I think all of us here have had more than our fair share of misfortune. Perhaps we all have something to learn from this. I can only hope that the outcome for your son is good.”
I love Gran. She can say things so they sound right.
Next, Siân turns to Dr Levine. “Is there anything you would like Amber to do to help make amends for what has happened?”
Amends is a stupid word. What can I do to make amends? I can’t make a difference to this family. I can’t undead Liam, unmeet Tyler and Declan and Joel or unburgle the Levine’s house. I can’t work a miracle for their son and make everything better. Nothing I do will change anything for them or for me.
Dr Levine interlaces his fingers and stares at his hands. Then he pulls his fingers apart and places the tips together in a steeple. I wait to hear what my amending will involve.
“I am very, very sorry to hear about your brother. I mean that. I appreciate you telling me and I’m sure life hasn’t been easy for you. But you still have a good chance at life and I don’t want you to waste that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gran nodding. “Getting into trouble and making other people’s lives miserable is not the answer. It’s not going to help anyone – least of all you. I’d like you to think very hard about what you have done and the way it has affected us, and you, and your family as well. I think I can understand why you can’t, or won’t, name the other people involved, but you have to realize they’re still out there. They’ll find other girls like you to prey on. They’ll hurt other people – people like us. You have choices you can make. All I’m asking is that you make the right choices.”
We had a talk once, at school, on choices. Choices, we were told, give us power. So we have to be careful what we do with those choices. So far my record hasn’t been good. Gran stretches over and gently pulls my fingers away from my mouth. I suppose I’m chewing my nails – what’s left of them.
“Will your son get a new heart?” I ask. It’s all I can think about.
“I wish I could answer that question,” says Dr Levine. “There are a lot of people waiting and there are never enough donors. At some point, he’ll get one, I suppose. It’s whether or not he gets one in time.”
“He can have mine.”
Dr Levine laughs. “That’s a generous offer, but I don’t think it would be very practical.”
I look at him and see that he really is laughing. To begin with, I can’t work out why. Then I get it. What a stupid thing to say – that I’ll give him my heart. The tension suddenly breaks and I can’t help but smile too. How can we be laughing about something so serious? How can we be laughing together? This is crazy.
But something in the room has changed and an idea has already begun to form in my mind.
I sense a possibility and I do want to make amends – to everyone. Maybe Gran’s right. Maybe there is a way.
The traffic is bad as we head towards the hospital. What had I expected to come out of my meeting with Dr Levine? Not this, for sure; not to be going to visit a critically ill 18-year-old. This will be my third visit to this hospital – not counting the time I was born. First Liam, then Gran, now Jeremy. Lucky number three? Simon has come with me. I didn’t ask him to, but he offere
d and I’m glad of the company and support. He’s kept to his promise and I’ve kept to mine. He’s chatty all the way in the car, trying to keep my mind off things. He comes with me as far as the lift then says he’ll wait in the cafeteria.
I take the lift to the fifth floor. High dependency.
Dr Levine comes out to meet me. He shakes my hand. “I’ll take you in,” he says, “but you can only visit for a short time.”
I nod. I don’t think I want to be here for long.
Gran’s warned me about all the tubes and wires and she’s not wrong. Think of it as a recording studio, she said, it’s easier that way. I don’t know how on earth Gran knows anything about recording studios, but I keep her words in my head. Anything to keep my mind away from hospital and death and Liam. If he’d survived, would he have ended up here? In this ward stacked with monitors, machines and never-ending bleeps? I’d expected individual rooms; I was wrong.
I was wrong about Jeremy too. I’d imagined someone barely conscious, weak, I don’t know – at the very least a rather pathetic person lying helpless in the bed. Of course, he is in a bed, and he’s thin and pale, but his eyes are alert and alive and his smile is incredible.
“So you’re the infamous Amber,” he says and waves vaguely at the banks of monitors and machines stacked around his bed. “Welcome to the world of Big Brother!”
His choice of words couldn’t be worse, even though I know they have nothing to do with Liam.
“Hi,” I say.
“You can go now, Dad,” he says.
Dr Levine grins. “Thanks. I know when I’m not wanted.”
I’m not sure I want Dr Levine to go.
“Have a seat, but whatever you do, don’t kick that container over.” Jeremy indicates something on the floor by his bedside. I have to stop myself from making a bad face as I look at the colour of the contents. I sit down carefully.
“I’ve never talked to a real-life burglar before,” he continues. He sounds serious, but I can tell from his eyes he is laughing at me and it makes me self-conscious. “You don’t exactly look how I imagined – you know, stripy shirt, pair of tights over your head, that kind of thing.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say. “I thought I should change before coming to visit or they might not let me in.”
“True,” he grins. “Don’t worry. Dad’s told me you’re OK. I hope he was nice to you – in your big meeting.”
I’m surprised by Jeremy’s openness. Not one for small talk, it would appear.
“Considering what the meeting was about, yeah, he was very nice. I was hardly expecting him to like me.”
“Perhaps one does not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” Jeremy says this in a theatrical way and I wonder what he is talking about.
“Sorry?”
“A quote from 1984. I’ve just finished reading it for about the eighth time.”
Jeremy picks up the book from his side table and hands it to me. “Have you read it?” he asks.
“No. I haven’t.”
“You should. It’s good. Take it if you like.”
“I can’t do that.”
“That’s funny coming from a burglar!” He laughs. “Oh well, if you don’t want to steal it you can take it as a present.”
“I’d rather you stopped calling me a burglar.”
“It sounds so much more exciting than an accessory.”
“You could try Amber.”
He laughs. “Nah – I prefer Accessory. You should choose your friends more carefully. Apparently they stitched you up. That’s what Dad told me.”
“Did he? I was stupid.”
“You don’t look stupid.”
I shrug, embarrassed. “Thanks.”
“The only bit of you that strikes me as stupid is the bit that that won’t tell the police the names of the others involved.”
“I didn’t really come here to talk about that,” I say. He ignores me.
“I sort of admire you for your loyalty,” he goes on, “but I’m still working it out in my head. I know things are rarely as simple as they seem. I suppose one of them was your boyfriend or something?”
My cheeks burn. Was he? I hate the fact that Tyler still has such a hold on me.
“I’m right!” says Jeremy, studying my face.
“No, you’re not. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“But you did? And now, after what happened, you don’t see him any more.”
“No.” It comes out sounding defensive.
“Ambiguous. I like ethical issues, they fascinate me. I never used to give them a second thought but things change and I’ve got an overload of spare time now – to lie around and think. It’s ironic really.”
He moves slightly in the bed and, for the first time, I can see the effort and pain on his face.
“Dad says you offered to personally donate your heart to me. Not the brightest idea on the planet, but a kind thought.”
I wonder if Jeremy is always like this. It’s hard to know when he’s being serious and when he’s not.
“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t want your heart anyway. You’re far too small, for a start. And far too pretty.” I blush. “Even prettier when you blush.”
“Jeremy!” says his nurse in a warning voice as he leans out from behind a screen at the bottom of the bed. I’d almost forgotten anyone else was with us. “Give the poor girl a break – not all of us are used to your questionable sense of humour.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” he says, and puts on the most wide-eyed, innocent face possible. Then he laughs again. “When you’re in my position, you don’t worry too much about what you say or what people think.”
“I guess.”
“Dad says you want to launch a campaign for more organ donors.”
“Yes. I’ve decided I wanted to do something to help. You know, to try to—”
“I don’t want you to do this for me, Amber.”
I’m stunned. Disappointed. “Why?”
“I don’t know. A lot of reasons. To save me, someone else has to die. Someone else’s family has to go through the misery my family could go through. Sometimes, I’m not sure how I feel about that. I just don’t want it to be personal, that’s all.”
“Yes, but you don’t cause their death, do you? They don’t die because you need their heart. They die anyway. It happens. I should know.”
“Dad told me about your brother. I’m sorry.”
“Liam was the same age as you. I know his heart wasn’t any good but, apart from that, he was fit and healthy. He could have donated other organs, but he wasn’t a registered donor. I think it would have helped us – to know that his death wasn’t a waste and that something good could come out of it. I think Liam would have wanted that too, if he’d ever stopped to think about it. But you don’t think about dying when you’re young, do you?”
Jeremy smiles a tired smile.
“Not unless you’re sick,” I add quickly. “All the people I run with are fit and healthy. I just want to encourage them to think. It’s too late for Liam, but it’s not too late for them – and it’s not too late for you.”
“I don’t want to let you down, Amber.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks away from me. “You know. If I don’t… I wouldn’t like you to think it was your fault.”
“All I want is to do something to make it up to your family,” I say.
“You don’t need to. The only thing Dad wants is to make sure you don’t mess up your own life.”
“I’ve already done that – and a few other people’s for good measure. I’m trying to unmess it all.”
“So you’re doing this for you then – not just us.”
I think for a moment. “Maybe. Gran calls it a way of making peace with myself.�
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“That’s OK then. That’s a good reason. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is!”
Jeremy looks very serious.
“Do you feel guilty because you’re alive and your brother is dead?”
I pause. I know the answer, but I’m not sure what answer I should give Jeremy – or if I should answer at all.
“Honestly?” I say and he nods. “Every day.”
He looks sad. “It’s something I’ve been wondering. It’s going to be hard for my little sister if anything happens to me. I’m trying to understand what it is like to be the one left. I want to write her a letter, just in case. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I try to imagine what it would be like if Liam had left me a letter. If he’d had the chance…
“You’re not going to die,” I say.
A machine starts beeping and I watch the nurse as he quickly makes some adjustments. “Now look what you’ve done.” Jeremy closes his eyes. “You’ve got the machinery all worked up.”
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. I watch the nurse looking up at the various screens until the bleeping subsides. It’s easy to forget the reality of this situation.
“Bowl,” he says to the nurse.
“Shall I go?” I’m not sure what I did to cause this, but I should definitely leave. I’ve been here too long already.
“No don’t. Just give me a minute. I feel sick when my heart goes into orbit. Hopefully I won’t actually vomit – not after practising all my chat-up lines.”
I hope he doesn’t vomit too – though I’m quite used to it with Mum. We sit in silence and I watch Jeremy’s pale fingers curl and uncurl against the edge of the cardboard bowl. After a short while he pushes it away and I relax a little.
“Dad says you’d like my help with your campaign.” He’s looking exhausted now. “I’m afraid I can’t take part in a fun run or anything like that.”
I smile. “A marathon perhaps?! No, all I want is permission to mention your name. It’s the opening meeting of the running club coming up and I’m planning a presentation. I want to persuade as many people as possible so sign up as donors. The club are keen to support me because my brother used to be their best runner.”