The Space Between Us

by Anna McPartlin

  Adam checked on Eve’s progress most days. ‘Can you move your arm for me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘If you wanted to see my arm move, you should have been here when A h-aon, a dó, a trí was here because that’s torture time and you’re two hours too late.’

  ‘A h-aon, a dó, a tri?’ he said, laughing.

  ‘You know who I mean,’ she said.

  ‘I do. Come on, no resistance, just show me a little movement, please,’ he said.

  ‘God almighty,’ she said, but she moved her arm and he was pleased.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll have to go back in. It was touch and go but, because I’m a genius, A h-aon, a dó, a trí is persistent and you’re a fighter, things are looking good.’

  She had come to enjoy his little visits. Sometimes Lily was there too and the three of them sparred with each other like old friends.

  ‘Is she still demanding to be taken to the toilet?’ he asked Lily one day.

  ‘She won’t drop it, but it’s too soon for her to go by herself.’

  ‘I’m right here,’ Eve said.

  ‘How are her stools?’ he asked, with a grin.

  ‘Jesus Christ. Right, that’s it, both of you, out!’ Eve said.

  Lily and Adam laughed, pleased with themselves and their childish toilet humour.

  Not so funny when you’re sitting on a bedpan and supporting your entire body weight with one arm, bastards!

  ‘How much longer will I be in here?’ Eve asked them one day.

  ‘At least another month,’ Adam said.

  ‘No,’ Eve said.

  Adam looked at Lily and they grinned.

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said.

  ‘Look, here’s the deal. I’m giving you three more weeks to get me mobile. After that I’m leaving.’

  ‘That’s not a deal, that’s an ultimatum,’ Lily said.

  ‘Really, Lily?’

  ‘A deal suggests we get something back,’ Adam said.

  ‘OK, you make me better in three weeks and I’ll buy you a new car, Lil, and I’ll help you pick out a more suitable one, Adam.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my car?’ Adam said.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just not you.’

  ‘Oh, and you know me?’

  ‘I know that you’re tall and awkward, and no matter how far you shove the seat back you look like Sideshow Bob driving around in his little clown car.’

  ‘Oh, it’s so good to have her back!’ Lily laughed.

  Adam thought about what she’d said. ‘Caroline talked me into buying that car,’ he said.

  ‘The ex you wouldn’t marry?’ Eve said.

  Adam looked at Lily, who shrugged. ‘She asked,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, the ex I wouldn’t marry.’

  ‘Are you holding on to it because you think she’ll come back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So get rid of it and buy something you fit into,’ she said. ‘Even better, get me out of here.’

  ‘Let’s have you sitting on a toilet first and we’ll see how we go from there,’ he said.

  As her facial wounds healed, she became more conscious of the way she looked and smelt. Clooney had been instructed to bring in her creams and perfumes but she still couldn’t wear any normal clothes. Clooney added to her collection of shawls, all of which he bought in a light silk: Eve thought that if the Ginger Monster hadn’t killed her, the heat in the hospital would. Her hair was a mess and needed cutting. She had Clooney contact her hairdresser, who came to her room. It was an ordeal but Nick was a total pro. Lily helped lift her into a wheelchair, then pushed her into the bathroom. Eve leaned as far as she could over the bath for him to wash it, guarding her damaged arm and praying it wouldn’t knock against anything. He handled the shower head very carefully, but they both got soaked. Then she sat in her room while he cut and styled her hair. It was a sharp cut and she had lost weight so her face appeared strikingly angular.

  ‘You could have been a model,’ he said.

  ‘You mean before I was ravaged?’ she said with a smile.

  ‘So you’ve a scar on your face. Harrison Ford has a scar and hello?’

  The stitches were gone and her lip was back to its normal shape. That scar was on the inside so it couldn’t be seen. The area around her eye was back to normal, aside from some light yellow bruising and an angry pink line that measured three centimetres across her left cheek.

  ‘Do you think I should wear makeup?’ she asked, pissed off that she faced the possibility of having to put it on every day for the rest of her life. Just when I’ve retired. What a pain …

  ‘Not yet. You’re still healing,’ he said.

  ‘I know but …’

  ‘But what?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Are you interested in someone in here?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Nick!’

  ‘Oh, my God. You are!’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘You’re going red.’

  ‘That’s anger, frustration and the damned heat in this place.’

  Nick had known Eve, years before, when they were both training in London. He had done the hair and makeup for a lot of her jewellery shoots at college. They were both equally ambitious, both Irish, and both workers. They had got on from the start and he was one of the few people she had missed when she left for Paris. When she had returned to Dublin the previous year she’d looked him up. In the years between he had become very successful in the UK before returning home to set up a high-end salon in Dublin. When he wasn’t on photo shoots, fashion shows or working on ad campaigns, he was in his salon. He was an old and good friend but his time was limited as Eve’s had once been. They didn’t socialize but Nick knew her well enough to detect that she was hiding something now.

  ‘OK, whatever you say,’ he said.

  ‘I just don’t want to look like damaged goods.’

  ‘You’re not damaged goods.’

  ‘I’m the definition of damaged goods,’ she said.

  Eve’s window had become a source of fascination for her. She started to identify the faces and cars, timings and rituals of the hospital staff. There was a nurse she called Patty because she could never just get out of her car, lock it and walk inside. She’d get out, pat her handbag, lock the door, walk about two metres, pat her bag again, turn round and either reopen the car and get something or go back and check the door to ensure it was locked. Patty was a great source of distraction on the days she was working and it was better watching her than staring at a fly on the wall.

  She’d watch Adam come and go. He always parked his silly car in the same spot. Doctors had designated parking – she had to pay closer attention to the nurses because they parked where they could and there were a few bays out of sight. Adam would get out of the car and lock it. He’d never check himself or fix his hair or double-check to see if the car was locked. He was just in and out, except when he met someone coming the other way, which was most days. He seemed to know more people in the hospital than anyone else – either that or he was just friendly or sat on more medical boards. He’d stop and talk, and Eve would wonder who the other person was and what they were talking about. Sometimes the conversations were short, sometimes a little longer. Eve saw him with Lily a couple of times. Lily was always harassed. She leaped out of her car and a couple of times it appeared that she had forgotten to lock it. Lily was a runner. She’d run from the car to the hospital and back. The only time she stopped was when she met Adam, who sauntered. He’d stop her and they’d talk for a minute or two before Lily ran in.

  One morning when Eve was gazing outside she saw Declan Donovan for the first time in twenty years. He was parking his car and the top was down so she recognized him at once, but initially she didn’t trust her eyes. The car was a Mercedes – she wasn’t sure what class as she’d never been too interested in cars. Lily drove a Volkswagen Polo that was five years old and had a dent in its rear bumpe
r – the result of Scott driving into a post on his first and last lesson with his mother, she had told Eve. The Merc was new and eye-catching. Even from a distance she could see the cream interior before Declan put up the top and got out. He shrugged into his suit jacket before he closed the door, then brushed it down and looked at himself to make sure it wasn’t crumpled. That is you, isn’t it? He strode confidently towards her. The closer he came to the doorway three floors under her, the surer she became. Oh, God, yes, it is you! Her heart-rate increased, her pulse shot up. I feel sick. Oh, Eve, seriously? Puking is a tad overdramatic, don’t you think? Apparently not: Eve puked over herself.

  It was Lily who cleaned her up. ‘What brought this on? Has Clooney been feeding you on the sly? You know you can only have hospital-sanctioned food.’

  ‘No,’ Eve said, but when she focused on Lily’s question, she reconsidered. ‘Well, yes, of course he has. I can’t be expected to live on the slop I get in here – but I’m not sick, I’m fine.’

  ‘Your pulse is elevated. Are you in pain?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Headache?’

  ‘I always have a headache.’

  ‘That’s not right. I’m going to call Adam.’

  ‘Please don’t.’

  ‘I’m calling Adam.’

  ‘Crap.’

  Lily had confided in Eve that Adam was the only real friend she had had in many a long year and that she was worried he had developed feelings for her. She didn’t want to lose him but she wasn’t interested in him sexually, and wouldn’t have been even if she wasn’t married. Eve had known straight away that he wasn’t to Lily’s taste – she knew it because, even in her fragile state, he was most definitely to her own. He was tall and lean, not particularly broad but muscular. He had the body of a long-distance runner. He had a head of floppy brown hair that seemed to do its own thing. She wondered if he even had to brush it. Some days his eyes looked brown and other days they were green. She wondered if that had something to do with the light, the weather or his mood. He had a wide smile and good teeth. He dressed with flair – his suits were always a little different and stood out from the pinstripe, grey, black and navy brigade. His shirts were coloured or patterned, never white and never boring. He had fashion sense, which others saw as odd or, as in Declan’s case, gay, but Eve approved. Damn, I look like hell.

  Adam came about an hour later. Eve’s pulse had steadied and she was no longer nauseous. He looked at her chart. Since she had moved into her room he had begun sitting down whenever he visited her, and as the time passed, his visits increased and so did the time he spent sitting by her bedside. Initially he gave Eve extra attention because she was Lily’s mystery friend. He was loyal to Lily and he liked Eve being the secret he helped her keep from Declan. Adam couldn’t stand Declan because he didn’t like the way he treated Lily. If I had a woman like her I’d treat her like a goddess. After those first five or six days, when Eve had been so out of it that she was simply a set of healing bones, he began to like her. She was a smart mouth. She didn’t suffer fools gladly. She wouldn’t be talked down to. No wonder she and Declan don’t get on.

  ‘I don’t like these headaches,’ he said.

  ‘So turn down the heat in this place,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not that hot.’

  ‘I could grow marijuana in here.’

  He laughed. ‘Tell me about the headaches.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘they’re basically pains in my head.’

  ‘I can see why you and Lily are such good friends. Do they affect one or both sides of your head?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Is the pain pulsating, or a pressure, or a tightening pain?’

  ‘Pressure.’

  ‘Would you describe it as moderate or severe?’

  ‘Moderate.’

  ‘On a scale of one to ten, assign numbers to moderate and severe.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Just do it.’

  ‘Moderate is a four or five and severe is nine or ten. My arm is usually around nine, my right leg zero, my left leg four to six and my head is three to seven, depending on the moment, minute or hour.’

  ‘Do you feel nauseous?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ A lot and especially when I see that prick Declan.

  ‘Are you sensitive to light and sound?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Like now.

  ‘Any stiff neck, confusion, double vision, weakness or numbness?’

  ‘No.’

  He asked another hundred questions and she answered no to all of them.

  ‘Any changes in personality recently?’

  ‘I curse more.’

  ‘You curse more,’ he said, nodding and smiling.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m back in Ireland or if it’s because I’m crippled but the word “fuck” sounds so much better to me now than it did when I lived in the States.’

  ‘That aside,’ Adam said, ‘I think you’re suffering from chronic tension or daily persistent headaches. I could send you for some neurological testing to be sure. ‘

  ‘No need. I got the all-clear recently and the headaches haven’t changed since then.’

  ‘I’m going to prescribe you something for them and then I’m going to open the window.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s a weird smell.’

  He opened the window and put his face outside. He pulled back. ‘There’s no smell,’ he said.

  ‘It comes and goes.’

  He leaned out. ‘Well, there’s a vent just below and to the left of you. It could be coming from that. I’ll have Maintenance take a look.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And,’ he said, ‘I’ve been looking at a new car.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘I’m thinking a BMW.’

  ‘As long as you can fit in it, buy it,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘OK,’ he said, and left her alone to stare out into the car park and admit to herself that she was attracted to Adam. Adam, who was not only her doctor – Eve, the bloody great cliché! – he was Lily’s friend and clearly had a crush on her. Not to mention that Ben Logan wasn’t even cold in the ground. I don’t love him or anything, Ben. I just like him. He’s nice and you’re dead and, besides, life is short. I don’t want to die alone and you were never even mine. I miss you, though. I hope that if you’re conscious, somewhere in the universe or beyond, it’s a good place full of love, light and happiness and not a fucking hothouse where you spend day after day hovering on bedpans and looking at morning TV, walls and a car park.

  It was just after six when she watched Declan make his way to his car. Then she turned to the wall. The poster hadn’t changed.

  She turned on the TV. The news was on. Clooney would return at seven thirty with a new perfume. She had worn Chanel No. 5 all of her adult life but she couldn’t stand the smell any more. She’d sent him to find something new so that she could wear it when Paul came with his fiancée, Simone. She didn’t like meeting new people, her head hurt, she was pissed off that she liked Adam and that Lily’s week off was starting and she’d made it clear she couldn’t visit as much. Eve hadn’t asked but she knew it was because of Declan. He had been playing on her mind, going so far as to take the Ginger Monster’s place in some of her more disquieting dreams.

  Days blended with little to define one from another. Eve’s car-park watch now revolved around Declan. Once she witnessed Lily collide with him. It was at an odd time. Lily had forgotten something in her car and was heading towards it and Declan had just parked. It was after midday. Sometimes on a Tuesday or a Wednesday Declan didn’t arrive to the hospital until after midday. Eve surmised he had consulting rooms elsewhere. Lily never really went to the car park in the middle of the day and it was unusual for her to forget something. When they met, Eve watched them talk to one another. They seemed distant but polite – that is, until Declan seemed to grab Lily’s arm aggressively. Lily pu
lled away easily so he couldn’t have hurt her but it upset Eve. She wanted to jump out of bed and yell out of the window, Keep your hands off her! But she couldn’t walk, never mind jump, and it wasn’t her business anyway. She did ask Lily about it but Lily brushed her off.

  ‘Oh, he was just being playful. I wasn’t in the mood.’

  Eve knew she was lying, and Lily knew that Eve knew she was lying, and they left it at that.

  When Clooney came later that evening it was the first thing she said to him.

  ‘Do you think Declan’s a wife-beater?’

  ‘You mean, do I think Lily’s a battered wife?’

  ‘Same thing,’ she said.

  ‘No, it’s not. I don’t know Declan, I know Lily, and there’s no way she’d put up with getting beaten.’

  ‘Yeah. I suppose you’re right,’ she said, ‘but then again I know Declan better than you do and I think he has it in him.’

  After Eve had said that, Clooney confided in her about Lily’s reaction to her husband’s phone call the night they were having dinner.

  ‘You had dinner together?’ Eve said.

  ‘Didn’t Lily tell you?’

  ‘No, she did not.’

  ‘Probably too small a detail.’

  Bullshit, she thought. Now, Clooney is exactly Lily’s type. If, of course, she wasn’t a happily married woman.

  Eve became stronger. The first time she went to the toilet she was wheeled in, and although a nurse had to hold her, she pulled her own pants down and insisted on being left alone to do her business. It was only when she screamed, ‘Oh, no, shit on my hand, shit on my hand!’ that the nurse appeared.

  When the sun was at its hottest Clooney began to take her into the hospital gardens and there they’d sit for hours, people-watching and enjoying the sun, the flowers, the smell of the grass and each other’s company. Eve was finding inventive ways to make her one good arm work for her. Adam was still concerned about her headaches but her shoulder, he’d said, was making a remarkable recovery, and after the first two weeks of resistance she had come to an understanding with her physiotherapists. She worked tirelessly on her shoulder and her left leg. She spent more time out of bed and in her electric wheelchair. She zipped around the corridors, stopping to chat with Marion, Abby and all the other nurses she’d come to know. She steered clear of the canteen because Lily had mentioned once she was meeting Declan there and Eve was terrified of bumping into him. Clooney would bring in picnic supplies from her favourite deli and, when she wasn’t feeling nauseous from the smell that nobody seemed able to do anything about, they’d eat outside on fine days and in the conservatory when it was wet. Her friends came and went, less often as the time went on but she still saw most of them twice a week.