I seriously don’t know what her problem is. Well, apart from curfew, but I know Mum cares about curfew less than she cares about the idea of me getting drunk and having sex so, technically, I haven’t done much wrong. I finish swiping on mascara and throw my lip gloss into my pocket.
‘Believe it. Don’t believe it. I don’t care. I’ve got to go to school.’
If this was a normal morning I’d go to school and complain to Gen about what a bitch Mum is. But it’s anything but a normal morning because instead of catching the school bus I’m waiting for the one that goes past the hospital. A car pulls up, and the driver leans over to open the door. It’s Mum.
‘Get in. I’ll drive you to the hospital.’
I look at her suspiciously. ‘This isn’t a trick, is it? Is that where you were really going? You’re not going to take me to a convent or something?’
She shakes her head and holds up a Maccas bag. ‘I bought breakfast.’
I get in.
The traffic’s pretty bad, and I’m thankful that Mum has to concentrate on the road while I stuff my mouth so full of food it would be impossible to speak. When we’re about five minutes away from the hospital, though, Mum looks over at me. I know she’s going to start on me again, and I so don’t want to hear it today.
‘Look, Juliet, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been giving you a hard time about school. I just don’t want you to lose the options you’ve got because you haven’t studied. You don’t want to find out you’ve lost the chance to go to uni, when you’re already losing your best friend.’
I’m about to say, Give me a break, I can’t do this today, but Mum’s pulling into the hospital car park. She concentrates on parking while I close my eyes and wish this wasn’t happening.
While we’re in the lift going up to the ward, Mum touches me on the shoulder. ‘You know, Juliet,’ she begins, but there’s a ding and the doors slide open.
I’m fidgety and anxious to see Tai, but when I do see him I almost wish I hadn’t come. He’s hooked up to two different machines that beep occasionally and show a bunch of numbers. There’s another tube leading from a bag of fluids to a needle in his hand, and an ID bracelet around his wrist. And they’ve shaved his hair off. Oh, Tai. I wish you’d told me, had warned me about this.
I want to go over to him, tell him I heard what he said last night, rest my head on his shoulder, but Stanley and Mia are hovering over him. I watch them fussing around him, adjusting this and that, while I stand next to Mum, willing them to stop for one goddamn second so I can talk to him. A nurse comes in and sees Mum and me. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s only two visitors at a time, and only immediate family at that. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him. You can pop in and visit once he’s back in the general ward.’
It takes a second to sink in. I’m getting kicked out. I haven’t even said hello to Tai and they’re kicking me out. As we leave the room he flashes me a wan smile. Back in the corridor, Mum hugs me but I’m too shocked from seeing Tai like that to respond. For the first time, I’ve begun to catch a glimpse of the undeniable in Tai’s face, in his movements. Tai is dying. It shows.
I slide into the car wordlessly.
Mum says gently, ‘You don’t have to go to school today. I’ll write you a note.’
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘I’ve got an exam.’
When Mum pulls up at the school gates I hurry out, not bothering to put my bag in my locker. Instead I leave it outside the door to the school hall and slip inside, finding an empty seat. Grey like the hospital chairs, I think, before I can stop myself. The exam is one of the mid-semester tests they’ve probably designed just to torture us. I don’t think it even counts for anything much. I’m already wishing I hadn’t come. But there are only so many days seniors are allowed to have off without it ‘affecting things’, and I know I’ll want the time off later. When Tai is— Stop it, Juliet. Concentrate. The exam starts in a couple of minutes. Get through the next two weeks, and then you’re on school holidays. And then when they end a month will have passed and for Tai that means – stop it. Just stop it.
My thoughts are interrupted by the invigilator instructing us to begin. I stare down at the page, waiting for the words on it to make sense. One of my teachers is walking around the room, handing out spare pens and extra paper, and he pauses at my desk. ‘You okay, Juliet?’
‘Tai’s in surgery,’ I whisper back miserably. He’s startled by that, and seems like he’s about to say something more, but someone else has put their hand up for more paper, so he pats me on the shoulder and walks away.
I manage to pull it together enough to write something down, and by the end I think I’ve done enough to pass.
As we’re filing out I hurry to catch up with the girls. They talk for a few minutes about the exam before giggling about something that happened at Gen’s place on the weekend. I’m trying to catch up on it, doing the smile-and-nod thing, biting my lip so I don’t ask, Why wasn’t I invited?
The question hangs in the air anyway, and Gen says, ‘Sorry, Juliet. We just thought . . . you know – that you’d want to be with Tai.’
I shrug it off, pretending I don’t care. She’s right, but they still could’ve asked.
Gen and I go to the tuckshop while Lina and Rae wander off to their lockers. By the time we’re sitting on the grass with our noodles my nonchalance has worn off.
‘You could’ve asked.’
Gen looks up, surprised. ‘Asked what?’
‘On the weekend. You could’ve invited me.’
‘It’s not like it was a big deal, Juliet. You do heaps of stuff with Tai without inviting me.’
‘That’s different. You so know that’s different.’ I shove a forkful of noodles into my mouth and glare at her from behind my sunnies.
‘I just thought you wouldn’t want to, that’s all. We never hang out like we used to – you just want to be with him all the time.’
Yeah . . . well, you suck, I don’t say. He’s in surgery and you don’t even ask about that. He’s having his skull cut open and you don’t even ask. Instead I shove some more noodles in my mouth and will myself not to cry. It’s not working though, and the tears trickle down my face.
‘Hey, Juliet, are you crying? Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s okay. You’re probably right, anyway. Want to do something next weekend? Maybe go shopping for our formal dresses?’
‘Yeah. Okay.’ We smile at each other, tentative peace restored, before the bell rings and we go our separate ways to collect our books and go to our afternoon exam session.
• • •
At home I stare at my phone, willing it to beep. ‘Come on, Mia, learn how to send a freaking text already,’ I mutter. When it finally beeps, the message is brief. Surgery went well. Tai sleeping. I’m not entirely sure what went well means, when they can’t fix him, and all I know is I can’t visit Tai, not yet, not until he gets moved to a regular ward. I decide to text him, and my fingers are already pressing the buttons before my brain catches up – he won’t be allowed to have his phone on. Fuck. It’s like he’s in isolation, but only from me.
Mum comes home and finds me in my room, drawing in the gaps on the page of the textbook I’m studying. She stands there making a disapproving face, and I can tell she’s silently debating whether or not to have a go at me for it but, thankfully, she doesn’t. Instead she gestures towards the kitchen. ‘Dinner?’
‘I’m not really hungry, Mum.’
‘That’s such a shame.’ She grins. ‘It’s Indian takeaway. Your favourite. Oh well, all the more for me.’
‘You’re really into food bribery today, aren’t you?’
‘Maybe. Is it working?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you too.’
‘What?’
‘You’re going to have to come to the table to find out.’
There, on my plate, is a tiny parcel wrapped in tissue paper the colour of a
jacaranda flower. Hidden underneath the layers is a nose stud, with a stone of the same colour.
‘Thanks, Mum. But I thought you hated my nose ring,’ I blurt out.
‘I do. But I know you like it.’
‘And . . .’
‘And you just looked like you needed some cheering up.’ Mum smiles at me, and I swallow hard, trying to blink back the tears that have started to well.
‘Juliet? Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Not today.’ Or, you know, maybe never, because you have no idea what this is like.
Tai
My head is splitting apart. If I move it, it might shatter. I think there are bandages up there but I can’t lift my hands.
A nurse is waiting nearby. ‘Tai? Is there anything I can get you?’
‘A drink?’ My voice is thin and croaky.
She gives me an ice chip to suck on, fiddles with the drip, and then my eyes are closing again. There’s pain, but the feeling is muted, covered with the blanket of painkillers that have been dripping into my veins since before the surgery ended. They promised me there’d be no pain, that I wouldn’t feel it, and now I get the idea that they’re kind of lying. There is pain, and I’ve got the feeling that there will be plenty of it later, but right now it’s a vague thought and easy enough to push out of my mind.
The doctor visits not long after, and I force my eyes open again while he explains that the surgery went as well as could be expected, that I’ll feel a lot better in a couple of weeks once I’ve healed up some. He asks if I have any questions and I try to shake my head but that seems to take too much effort so I just close my eyes instead.
When I wake again it’s dark outside, and I can’t quite remember where I am at first. There’s a nurse checking the monitors and writing notes on my chart, and I beg again for some water. She fetches a cup of it with a straw, and holds it for me. It’s cold, and good, and I’m grateful, but too sleepy to thank her.
One day they take me back to the ward. It’s always light, always noisy – it’s almost comforting. The nightmares are still there, even through the veil of painkillers, but whenever I wake, gasping, a monitor sounds and a nurse comes in.
‘You okay, Tai?’
One night the nurse takes my observations, and then sits on the edge of the bed and smiles at me so kindly I’m sure I’d burst into childish tears if it wasn’t for the morphine dulling everything. ‘You’re doing so well, Tai. You really are.’
‘Have you ever seen someone die?’
She hesitates, and then nods. ‘Yes.’
‘What was it like?’
There’s another pause and I wish she’d hurry up because the latest hit of painkillers is taking over and I’m not going to be awake for much longer.
Finally she says, ‘He was ready to go. It was very peaceful.’
‘What if, when it happens . . . what if I’m not ready?’
I really want to hear her answer, but sleep comes first and I drift off. I’m dimly aware she’s probably grateful for that.
Mum’s there when I wake up next. She smiles bravely at me and holds my hand. ‘I’m here, Tai.’
For the first few days the only visitors I have are Mum and Dad.
One afternoon, the second the visiting hours start after school, Juliet’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking relieved. Unlike Dad, she can’t stop talking, telling me about everything that’s been happening while I’ve been in hospital. One of the teachers threw a ruler at a kid and got suspended, two people in our grade got suspended for trying to have sex in the toilets (as if you would, Juliet says), she’s got five assignments to do and two are maths ones. Gen and Lina have a bet going about who can kiss the cutest guy at this party on the weekend and her money’s on Gen. My brain’s not used to keeping up to Juliet speed anymore, and it takes a little while to process what she’s said so I just say ‘Wow’ occasionally, enjoying the sound of her voice.
The next day, or maybe it’s the day after that, the guys all come to visit, which is pretty cool of them because I know they hate hospitals, and I look . . . less than spectacular. They’ve never seen me looking like this, not anything like this, and when I can’t stand the silence anymore I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.’
They laugh at that and we talk about normal stuff then, but they don’t stay long and I’m glad. We’re different now; I’m different from everyone, and every day it shows more. It takes so much effort, sometimes, to be how I used to be. And meanwhile their lives are moving on. Sam’s got his licence, he tells me proudly, and I have to fake being glad for him, knowing that I’m never going to get mine.
My head hurts all the time now, the kind of hurt that’s big enough to distract you from what you’re doing, the kind that makes you catch your breath sometimes. The doctor keeps messing around with the painkillers, changing the dose, changing the brand, but it kind of feels like playing catch-up, like he’s always one step behind the tumour. Some of the painkillers make my head spin – at least, I think they do, until I stop taking them and I’m still dizzy afterwards, still hanging on to walls when I walk, so they give me medication for that, too. There are the sleeping pills that don’t really work and I hate taking, and the Zofran that’s supposed to stop me feeling sick from the medication that’s attacking the tumour, and the doctor wants me to take anti-depressants, too.
When he suggests that, I look at him, confused. ‘But I’m not depressed. I’m dying, and of course I’m going to be messed up about that, but I’m not depressed. I think I would know if I was.’
‘Consider them an option, Tai,’ he says mildly. ‘Many people with tumours like yours find them a useful tool in managing their condition.’
‘Yeah, I can see how they’d be useful,’ I say. ‘I could give some to my girlfriend so she stops crying all the time, and drop some in my parents’ coffees.’
He’s not amused. ‘We’re talking about you, now. By the sound of it, you’re dealing with considerable stress – not only yours, but that of others, too. Some medication might be useful for coping with that.’
‘Look, I just don’t think I need them right now, okay? If I need them, I’ll ask, I promise.’
That night, Juliet doesn’t come to visit – it’s Lina’s birthday and she and the girls are going to hers to eat cheesecake – so I text her to tell her about the conversation with the doctor.
I could cheer you up way easier than that, her reply reads. I’ll just show you my boobs.
I’m staring at the phone, gobsmacked, when another message comes through.
Sorry, Tai. Gen stole my phone. Too much vodka. We can talk about boobs next visit, okay?
I’m still grinning when the nurse comes in to give me the last lot of painkillers for the night. He says, ‘You’re in a good mood tonight, Tai.’
‘My girlfriend’s drinking vodka and texting me about her boobs,’ I say, and then add, ‘Oh god. Please don’t tell my parents I said that.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ he says. ‘You wouldn’t believe the funny stuff I hear people on morphine say. At least you seem a bit perkier than last time I saw you.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I’m tons of fun when I’m not stuck in a hospital bed. Wish they’d let me go home.’
SPRING
September
Juliet
It hasn’t even been a week before I go to visit Tai in the hospital, but it feels like forever. I’m nervous as I walk towards the hospital entrance, because I don’t know what to expect.
He’s thinner, paler, and seems different somehow. But he’s smiling at me as I come in the door, opening up his arms to me. I ask him how he is and he tells me about the old guy who walks around at night completely starkers, and the nurse who talks to him about her kids while he tries to pee into a bottle. He smiles blearily and I realise that he’s doped up on painkillers.
‘Morphine. Good stuff.’ He’s seen me looking atthe IV.<
br />
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Fan-fucking-tastic.’ It’s a slow, lazy exhale, matching his grin.
I start visiting Tai every day, either at night or in between the last of our mid-semester exams, and he seems to like the distraction from the tedium of hospital. One day I go straight there from a biology exam that was so bad I’m ready to run away and join the circus, and I’ve almost burst into his hospital room when I hear someone inside talking to him. It sounds like a doctor, and I figure he won’t want me coming into the room, so I sit outside and listen without meaning to.
‘You seem very angry, Tai,’ this guy is saying in an irritatingly calm voice.
‘Of course I’m angry.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘What do you want me to tell you? That they’ve cut my skull in half and my little brothers don’t want to visit because they’re scared of how I look? That I’ve only just been allowed to get out of bed to take a piss? And this is the beginning, only the fucking beginning, of a treatment that’s never going to work. All my friends are fishing and partying and getting their licences and I’m getting patted on the back for swallowing my pills like a good boy. Of course I’m fucking angry.’
I’ve heard enough. I get up and wander down to the coffee machine and buy a cup of coffee so crappy they should pay me to drink it rather than the other way round. When I get back to Tai’s room the doctor has gone so I go in, smiling, trying to hide the cold shakiness overhearing that conversation has left me with. I wanted to tell him about the driving lessons I’ve started, but I can’t now so I talk about the crappy coffee, instead.
• • •
It’s another week before Tai’s told that he can go home. He looks better now – not completely well, but better than he did right after the surgery – and I’d find that comforting except the doctors have warned us it will be like this. He’ll be as good as new, or almost, when he’s had a chance to recover from the surgery – until the tumour starts to grow back.
There are some noticeable differences from the old Tai, though. He’s quieter now. Quieter and tireder. And the lack of coordination the doctor warned him about is beginning to show. Uneven footpaths have become dangerous territory, staircases the enemy. He finds excuses to avoid going outside so I’m surprised when one evening he nudges me and says, ‘Beach walk?’
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