by J A Scooter
The wreck had exploded, hurling him and the woman in his arms through the air, their bodies crashing heavily against a distant gum tree.
A week later, early on Friday morning, Susie called in to visit her husband, Bill, in his office and to talk over their change in fortune. They had already discussed Peter’s mysterious disappearance and were engrossed in a close examination of the pleasing figures in their books when she heard the door open suddenly.
Looking up, Susie was surprised to see two burly police officers standing before her.
“Mrs. Williams?”
Susie’s heart sank. The tone of the officer’s voice boded ill news. She could only nod her head in agreement.
“You are the next-of-kin of Mr. Peter O’Brien?” They paused, awaiting her reply.
Unable to speak, as if frozen in time, she again nodded.
“Mr. O’Brien is on life support at Royal North Shore Hospital. We advise you to go to the hospital as soon as possible. He’s there as the result of trying to save a woman who was killed in a car accident. Should you wish to see him, we advise you to move quickly.”
Almost with a feeling of relief, Susie sank into one of the office chairs. Slowly she looked up at the officers with tears in her eyes. Turning to Bill, she found the strength to give orders.
“Get Joe! Tell him Peter’s been found. Get Jennifer’s phone number, quickly please.”
By the time Joe arrived, it was clear that Bill had informed him of the bad news as he immediately picked the phone and began ringing a number.
“Hello? Hello, Jennifer? Oh, Mrs. Blake. I need to speak with Jennifer - it’s a matter of great urgency.”
He paused.
“Oh sorry, I’m Joe - Peter’s foreman. I’m Peter O’Brien’s foreman. No, I’m not playing games,” he said abruptly then he seemed to lose all patience. “For Christ’s sake Peter is dying and we need Jennifer now!”
Furiously snatching the phone from his grasp, Susie shouted into the phone, “Peter is dying damn it. The police are with me now and I haven’t a moment to waste.”
There was a long pause before Susie continued.
“I’m sorry, Jennifer. I wish I could make this news more pleasant but I can’t. Peter’s been missing for a week since he drove off to deliver a truck last Friday. Joe discovered that the truck arrived at Bathurst driven by some unknown trucker, and since then we haven’t heard from Peter since he left here on that delivery run.
“Two police officers have just arrived to tell us that he’s on life support and is dying. They’re demanding that I go to the hospital immediately if I want to see Peter alive. I thought you should know.”
Jennifer’s reply was enough to make Suzie erupt. Furious now, she screamed into the phone.
“Don’t be so bloody silly. He loves you and you alone, now get your ass into gear if you want to see him before they remove him from life support.”
Pausing for a moment, she tried to re-gather her composure.
“Sorry for the plain talk. Get on a bloody plane now. Ring Joe and tell him when you’ll arrive at Mascot, okay? You’ve one chance and one chance only, and I’d suggest you bring Andrew to support you as this could be very nasty.”
The words Susie was hearing from Jennifer accusing her of being Peter’s secret lover did not please her at all. In fact she was about to explode.
Susie tried to control her anger for as long as she could, then Jennifer said something that pushed her too far. “I will not be Peter’s play-thing or part of Peter’s harem!”
Susie lost her cool completely. “Oh, for shit’s sake, Jennifer, wake up. Stop walking around in a teenager’s dream world. This man loved you so much that it looks as though he gave his life trying to save a woman he thought was you. Look, I’m sorry but I don’t have time to argue with someone so bloody stupid, even if you are a lawyer. He loves you Jennifer - he loves you and only you!”
Red in the face Susie continued bellowing into the phone.
“He loves no one else… He loves YOU! What part of that don’t you understand Jennifer? Bugger it Jennifer, I’m sorry I’ve no time to argue.”
Calming a little, she continued.
“Come up here now or live the rest of your life with this on your conscience. Ring Joe. I refuse to argue with you any further and yes, I’m Susie - Peter’s nominated next-of-kin, and my darling husband Bill is standing here beside me to take me to Peter’s bedside - so think what you bloody will. Goodbye, Jennifer, I don’t expect to speak with you again.”
The phone call ended abruptly as Susie slammed the receiver down. Her words, “Silly bitch, what a bloody idiot she is!” said it all.
Bill helped her into a company car and they were soon weaving their way to the hospital following their police escort.
At the door of the intensive care unit, the doctor who was on his way out stopped Bill and told him that only Susie as next-of-kin could enter.
Bill told Susie that he’d wait in the car.
Patiently, Susie listened as the doctor explained what had happened, but a nurse hurrying in with an urgent message interrupted their conversation.
“Mrs. Williams, you’re wanted on the phone. It’s Melbourne.”
“Hello, Susie Williams speaking. What? Repeat that slowly.” Susie listened intently.
“Yes, I’m at the hospital and - slowly, Jennifer- stop crying please. I need to understand what you’re telling me. Yes, I can be there at any time to pick you up and perhaps you’ll be able to achieve a miracle. Now off you go - yes, I’ll pick you up. When do you expect to arrive? By the time you arrive, I will have just made it to the airport through the traffic.” Susie’s voice had softened.
She listened again.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll recognize you - I know you very well. Just get on a plane and bring Andrew with you,” Susie added as an afterthought. “What? You say he’s out on business. Well, then, the two of us will brave this through together.”
Susie returned to the doctor.
“He’s alive but no one knows for how long.” The doctor tried not to sound pessimistic as he resumed the conversation. “It’s as though he’s given up on life. We have him on life support and can keep him going for some days, but something has to be done to bring him out of this coma and make him ‘want to live’. We’ve done everything possible to bring him around.
“The severe concussion, the gash down one side of his face that almost took the sight of his eye and the two broken ribs are not the problem - he’s lucky that they were his main injuries. The explosion threw him and the body he was carrying about 50 yards.”
Seeing Susie’s querying look, the doctor continued.
“He came across the accident soon after it happened, and no-one could stop him from going to the wreck. The police reported he was screaming a name, ‘Jennifer’, as he rushed to the car and ripped its door off to rescue the driver. She was dead even before he commenced carrying her away from the burning car. He was lucky and only sustained minor burns, broken ribs, a nasty scar and severe concussion - the overalls and welding gloves saved him.”
He paused and then returned to his main concern.
“He spoke once when he arrived up here from casualty. ‘Is Jennifer all right?’ That is exactly what he asked the intern.
“The young fool doctor on duty told him the driver was dead and he muttered something about ‘Jennifer, I love you, wait for me.’ Then he lapsed into this coma. We can’t arouse him.
“The drugs he was using are not helping either!”
“No matter how much we have done for Peter, at this stage we can’t do anything further to bring him around. It’s as though he’s given up the will to live.
“His injuries are not killing him. It’s his mind shutting his body down.”
“Thank you, doctor. Keep him on life support. I’ll give permission when you are to remove him from that support. I’m praying, though, that I may be able to prevent that ever happening. Later today, I have to col
lect someone from the airport, and then I’ll be back with the person who, I believe, will bring some sense to this great oaf.”
Quietly, for hours, she sat beside the body in the bed and held Peter’s clammy hand. She was aghast at how pale and wan Peter looked, lying there hooked up to drips and machines. Although distressed by the sight of Peter all trussed up on drips, the steady blip, blip, blip of the heart monitor seemed to re-assure her.
The nurse on duty looked surprised when Susie suddenly looked at her watch and rushed away towards the elevators. She could see Susie run down the corridor, anxiously stalking back and forth outside the elevators' doors. To any passer-by, it was obvious she was waiting for transport down to the car park.
Susie collected Jennifer’s car and slowly worked her way through the heavy traffic. Two hours later, she was at the airport, still waiting for Jennifer to appear.
The arrivals’ board showed all the Melbourne plane had landed, so by Susie’s reckoning, the passengers should be out with their luggage any moment.
Pacing backwards and forwards Susie was apprehensive. She knew she would have a big task persuading Jennifer that her relationship with Peter was nothing more than that of a mother and son. ‘Some mother I am,’ but Susie’s thoughts were interrupted as she caught sight of Jennifer.
“Give me your luggage, Jennifer. Here are your keys. You’re driving because I took the liberty of bringing your car across to pick you up.”
“Peter? How’s Peter? What happened? Tell me he’s not dying. Please tell me what’s happening.”
Jennifer wasn’t interested in anything but news of her love. Intently she listened while Susie explained her relationship with Peter. Jennifer found it difficult to comprehend how Susie came to be next-of-kin.
“Me? In love with Peter? Me - who’s pregnant, thanks to Peter.” Susie suddenly realized what she had said as the car almost ran off the road.
“No, that’s wrong. I’m pregnant with my dear husband’s baby - thanks to Peter. When Bill left the Navy, Peter managed to get him a position with the BMW Dealer next door to Peter’s workshop. That meant we could support a child and give it a secure home - a thing we couldn’t do before.”
“Now I have some home truths for you, Jennifer! I’m Peter’s next-of-kin because of you and your ‘someone special’. Peter was driving to Bathurst that fateful night and he was going to commit suicide, as he believed he’d lost you to that ‘someone special’. He had death firmly fixed in his mind so I travelled with him to save him from himself.
“As a mother would hold a child, I held him close to me on that Saturday night, when the drugs he’d used to assist him to drive those long hours made him hallucinate. I compelled him to look at the ‘someone special’ problem another way, and I drove back with him in that loaded truck to keep him safe by prattling incessantly just to keep his mind away from his ‘so-called’ problems.
“Believe me - I think I almost went mad with the noise and the heat of that trip. Not something I want to repeat.”
Jennifer pulled into a service station and turned to Susie.
“Are you telling me you and Peter are not lovers? Are you really trying to make me believe that Peter means nothing to you?”
Laughing, Susie patted Jennifer’s hand as it clutched the steering wheel.
“My dear, Peter means a great deal to me as a very good friend and ‘adopted son’. However, Jennifer, he has eyes and heart only for you. I mean nothing to him as a lover, although I regard him with a great amount of ‘motherly affection’ especially as he saved me from a rape. He’s always been a most considerate gentleman with me.”
She turned to Jennifer and looked at her with a direct gaze.
“You, my girl, are the luckiest person I know - that is, if you do the right thing today and bring him back to a state where he wants to live.”
Jennifer leant across and kissed Susie on the cheek.
“Thank you, Susie. Thank you. I was in a hell of my own making and now you’ve dragged me out.”
Susie smiled. “Get this car moving. We have a lot to do yet.”
Arriving at the hospital, Susie walked with Jennifer to the Intensive Care Unit and introduced her to the nurses. Knowing Peter’s recovery was completely dependent upon Jennifer, Susie gave her a hug as she pushed her toward the door and turned to leave.
“Ring me if you need me. I’m sure you are exactly the medicine he needs. We will all be praying for your success.”
In the peace of the Intensive Care Ward, Peter remained comatose. His mind was a bottomless well where he lay immersed in a velvety darkness. It was peaceful lying there, so warm and comfortable. Through the gloom, he could see his mother and father reaching out to him.
Cutting across his thoughts came the words “He’s alive but we can’t bring him around.”
A woman’s voice carried an authority, which Peter couldn’t place. “We’ve done everything possible, yet we can’t get him out of his coma.”
Peter’s thoughts wandered. ‘That woman is talking about someone and I wonder who it is. Why is that woman talking and who is she? Just go away and leave me in peace. The black mist is so pleasant and secure.’
“We had trouble identifying him. His wallet was burnt in the heat of the explosion.” That same voice rambled on.
Peter was not interested in her conversation. He heard a soft sob.
“There, there.”
‘If that damn woman doesn’t stop talking, I will scream.’ Peter was aware of this thought making its way into his semi-consciousness, through the peace and quiet he longed for in his blackness.
“Were you close?”
“We were, but we had an argument when I got jealous over a phantom nothing.”
Peter knew that voice. ‘Where have I heard that strange hoarseness before? Yet the voice is hard to identify, as the sounds seemed to be interspersed with tears.’
“Well, he’s been lying there like that for over a week now.”
Peter just lay there, comatose and secure in his darkness.
‘This woman certainly can talk. She seems to know everything about that ‘he’. ‘
“It was as if he gave up, knowing no-one cared.”
“I care.”
That soft almost hoarse voice - Peter knew it well. But where had he heard it?
“Funny thing, the young woman he rescued was not called Jennifer and was already dead when he pulled her clear of the explosion.” The words carried a ring of authority.
A very pungent smell of antiseptic assailed Peter’s nose as a cold hand felt his forehead.
“Such a pity and so young too. Extreme shock can cause this traumatic reaction. All we can do is pray that he recovers or that the end will be quick and painless as we wait.”
Suddenly Peter realized that the woman was talking about him. He was the person she was discussing. His mind rebelled, wanting her to go away leaving him alone. He knew he was safe in that black mist with no more fighting, no more worries, no more struggles. The pungent smell faded and he relaxed into the silence.
As he drifted once more into darkness, the sweetest perfume possible invaded his senses. Soft wisps of hair lightly brushed across Peter’s forehead and his eyelids could feel warm breath. Then two drops of water splashed onto his cheek. Strange! How could it be raining in his safe dark tunnel? Lips lightly brushed his and Peter sensed he could taste Jennifer.
Moving to sit on a chair at the side of his bed, Jennifer buried her head in his hand. No one disturbed them and, emotionally exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.
Waking early the next morning she was unable to lift her head.
“Nurse! Nurse! Come quickly.” Jennifer sounded distraught. “He moved.”
Peter groaned as he slept.
“Open those fingers.” Someone, ordering Peter about, was trying to force his fingers open.
“Open your fingers, I can’t move.” A hoarse voice he recognized broke through his darkness.
Peter moane
d. His eyes gradually flickered open and he looked down at his hand. Jennifer’s head was on the edge of the bed and his fingers tightly gripped her hair. Relaxing his fingers, he waited.
Slowly, she lifted her head and those beautiful green eyes came close to study him. Then gently, as if she didn’t dare touch him, she moved her hand to his face where it lay cradling his cheek.
“Hello,” she whispered. “I waited for you.”
Peter tried to sit up but his body screamed its agony at the effort. Jennifer held his shoulders down.
“Lie still!”
“Where am I?” Peter was confused.
“You’re in Royal North Shore Hospital - Intensive Care Unit.” Jennifer’s answer was deliberate.
“What the hell happened?”
“Well,” Jennifer paused, uncertain whether to tell the full story.
“There was a car smash. When you arrived at the scene, you fought people who were trying to keep you from the burning wreckage. They said you went berserk screaming ‘Jennifer’ and that you tore the door off the car using just your hands. You carried the woman’s body clear just as the car exploded.”
Gently, Jennifer kissed Peter’s cheek.
“Believing you were saving me, you almost died, Peter. Moreover, all the time I was being so damn silly. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you for what?” Peter whispered.
“For doubting you with Susie.” Jennifer smiled at his look of shock. “Yes, Susie and I have talked. It was Susie who got me to understand how much you needed me here and we’ve talked about everything. As you said earlier, she is a very good friend to both of us.”
“How long have I been here?” Desperately Peter tried to change the topic of conversation.
“Well, I arrived yesterday afternoon, and you held my hair all night as you slept. Today is your eighth day here.”
“Eight days.” Peter was almost shouting. “I’ve been lying here eight days?” Forgetting his injuries, he tried to push himself upright. The sudden heat of the pain in his chest and the blackness threatening to overcome him defeated him as reluctantly he faced the extent of his injuries.