Rise

by C. J. Lau

  Chapter 13

  As real as it feels. A part of me knows this is a dream.

  “Trish, this is amazing! What a wonderful idea to see the coastline like this!”

  My jaw aches from non-stop smiling. I begged team management so hard for permission to leave the touring party and see Trisha. Worth it.

  “I can’t wait to show you this garden once we get back down, Cat. The scenery’s so wonderful…” The cabin jolting slightly, stopping Trisha mid-sentence.

  For the last 30 minutes I’d seen nothing but beauty, but it’s time to land soon.

  “Look! Those little trees, like they’ve been plucked from a fairy land.”

  The cabin suddenly jolts again, and with a loud noise, we’re falling.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!”

  Trisha screams…

  “Cat! Wake up!”

  Shouting startles me awake. I’m still in bed, my mouth open, the tail end of a scream stuck in my throat. Mum and Maggie by the bed. Both looking as horrified as I feel.

  Maggie breaks in first. “Are you alright?

  The sight of Trisha’s smiling face fades slowly from my eyes, and I’m not ready for the sadness that follows. “I remember now. Trisha and I. On the Isle of Wight. That resort for a few days. The helicopter on its way back when—” I can’t say it.

  Mum nods. This memory’s real.

  “That’s right. You were rushed to Newport, then transferred to Southampton,” Mum tells me. “And Trisha was returned home to Plymouth. You’ll get to visit her tomorrow.”

  I can’t face the sadness. So push it away, pretend it isn’t real. “Why not today?” I start moving off the bed. “Is it time to get up?”

  The muscles in my leg are stiff, cold. I don’t look forward to my feet hitting the floor.

  “You can’t,” Mum says, “you’ve got hospital appointments all day.” The look on her face tells me she’d hug it all away, if only she could. “It’s 7:15,” She sighs. “You’re awake. Might as well get up.”

  I wince as my feet hit the floor, pain shooting up my leg. A nightmare to start, feelings I don’t want to face, and another day in hospital to look forward to. The road back to the Hockeyroos is going to be long.

  But a phone call at breakfast lifts my spirits.

  “Well if it isn’t Catherine McConnell! I am so glad to hear you’re okay. How are you, Champion?”

  I smile, holding the phone. Jeanette Thorpe, or Slinky, as we all call her. My Australian team-mate. I picture her in Perth, smiling, tough as nails and uncompromising in nature.

  I remember our honesty pact. To always tell it how it is. “I’ve been better, Slinky. I’m all busted up at the moment.” Then I ask, “They made you Captain yet?”

  “Yeah, but giving me an arm band doesn’t change anything. Expectations are still sky high.”

  I remember that too. Consecutive Olympic Gold Medals, winning every International tournament in between. Gold at a home Olympics.

  “How’d the rest of the tour go?” I want to catch up on the missing months. Desperate for some sense of normality.

  “We played Germany three times, drew the first, lost the second, and won the third. Then we came back to Perth and lost twice to South Africa.” Slinky’s words help me picture my National Coach, going off his head. “Boy, did we get a yelling at.” The long road would lead me back to him, and a team in transition. “I still have your gear too,” Slinky interrupts my thoughts. “When you get back I’ll find a way to get it to you.”

  Hundreds of hours of therapy, just so I can hear him yell at me again. They’re right, athletes are crazy.

  “Thanks, Slinky. I’m not sure I’ll be over any time soon,” I admit, “my leg’s busted and my head is scrambled.” More how it is. At least the words are there to use.

  “Don’t rush it, Cat. Take it easy and do what the specialists say. We’ve all been there before, we know how it feels,” Jeanette encourages. “Patience is a hard thing to find, but it takes time for bodies to heal.”

  Same advice my bouncy physio gave, but Slinky’s words carry more weight. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  “I’ve got to go, Cat. Great to hear you’re awake. Keep in touch. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Thanks, Slinky.” I say goodbye, and hang up. “See you,” whispered just for myself.

  The next time Mum and I head back to the hospital, it’s just the two of us. “Where is everyone?”

  “Ian’s at Trisha’s parents. Kathy back home to Manchester, Maggie went with her. They’ll all be back tonight.”

  I grab for her arm as she helps me from the car. A wave of sadness threatening to wash over. “Thank you for staying.”

  “Darling, there’s nowhere I would rather be.” Her response makes me warm inside. Because I know she means it.

  Mum’s encouraging words get me through another gruelling day in hospital. First it’s my physio session, followed by a scan of my brain and leg.

  I give Mum a big hug at lunch time, returning to where she sits waiting, alone in the courtyard. The outcome of these tests determine my ability to fly home, where the rebuilding can really start. “I love you, mum,” I say, head on her shoulder. “Thanks for everything.” And then I tell her about the sadness every time I think of Trisha.

  She pulls me in, hugging hard. “It’ll be okay, darling. Promise.”

  Another promise. It helps a little.

  The afternoon’s filled with more sessions. Starting with the psychologist. We talk about the problems with my brain and the frustration that it’s bringing. He’s run a test, cognitive of some kind, saying, “You’re developing fine.” We talk about recovering memories and I tell him about my dream.

  His advice, “Well, it’s not unusual, Cat. You’ve been through a traumatic event.” He taps my good knee, “Now you need to be surrounded with supportive people.”

  It’s not like Maggie, Carol, or my parents will leave me even if I want them to. I do have that base covered.

  The last thing he says makes my heart leap.

  “This is probably the last session we’ll have. Your physical recovery’s going well. You’ll have clearance to fly soon.” He thanks me for working so hard, implementing the strategies he’s shown me. And recommends I find a psychologist back in Australia, “When you do, give them my card. I’ll fill them in on the work we’ve done here.”

  The next session brings even more hope. My physio bounding in, a little bit of sadness in her eyes, but lots of excitement all the same. She brings someone who measures me for a compression stocking, I try on various types of knee braces and supports. “I’m going to miss you, Cat. Be great, okay.”

  I hug her before she leaves. “I’ll try.”

  There seems to be a sense of finality about it all. Like they’ve given me the tools to take the journey ahead on my own. Except I won’t be alone, know I can rely on Maggie and Carol, Mum and Dad.

  My mind is suddenly full of questions about flight times, bookings, and whether I’ve been given clearance yet. My excitement making mum happy. I can’t stop talking about the trip home on the drive back to the house.

  “You’re starting to sound more and more like the daughter I know,” she says with a little chuckle. “This is what you were like growing up, you saw something you wanted and asked how to get it. You wouldn’t give up working until you got there.” Now she laughs. “A really stubborn child.”

  I laugh too. And hope tomorrow brings good news.

  Maggie hasn’t returned by the time we eat dinner.

  I want to stay awake for Maggie and Kathy. But every passing hour makes me more tired after this gruelling day.

  “Why don’t you go to bed sweetie?” Mum finally asks. “Maggie’s train back arrives at midnight. You’ll see her first thing in the morning.”

  “Okay, Mum.” I yawn and stand up slowly. Heading to the bedroom.

  “Sleep tight,” Mum’s voice drifts after me, “remember, your dreams can’t hur
t you.”

  Slowly I turn back to smile with a nod. Harmless or not, I know my dreams will come again tonight.

  “Look! Those little trees, like they’ve been plucked from a fairy land.”

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday…”

  “We’re going down! Brace! Brace!”

  Trisha screams.

  And I awake with another jolt. My heart hammering away in my chest as I remember to breathe. Drenched in a cold sweat despite the summer air.

  Cat, calm down!

  More than a nightmare, this is a memory. Did Mum say I’ve nothing to fear from memories? I’ll welcome them back if it means I would be a whole person again.

  “The psychologist said you’ve nothing to fear,” I tell myself.

  I blink once, twice, then close my eyes to relax…

  My eyes open on the Isle of Wight, to a country field where the serenity of the coastline’s been disturbed. Why can I see it all as if from above? A fiery crater. The impact of the falling chopper deafening. But the noise is gone now, replaced by the sound of ambulances in the distance.

  I come to, on the ground now. Burning fuel assaulting my eyes and nose. All I see is glass and mangled metal. The cabin largely intact, and I’m still inside.

  I try to reach the buckle. The pain shooting up both my arms stops me.

  I open my eyes wider and try looking around. Thick, warm fluid is running down the side of my face. The five point harness pressing deeply into my sternum, restricting my breathing to painful, shallow puffs. It smells like blood, tastes like blood.

  Oh my God, what’s happened?

  The pilot’s been thrown clear. I see him lying in a pool of blood and metal. Death. Too near. I can’t push it away.

  Is Trisha okay?

  The bleeding, my face and head, makes it hard to focus. I don’t dare look down at legs I can’t feel.

  Is Trisha okay?

  Sirens wail in the distance.

  Is she okay!

  After an eternity of trying, I see her. Still belted in. I almost don’t recognise her, so much blood and wreck she’s become. Her chest rising, falling, desperate to breathe.

  She glances at me. Her eyes glued to me, blood everywhere else.

  I try comforting her with a smile. But I’m stuck. Trisha’s chest collapsing now. Fighting to keep her eyes open. With effort she opens her mouth. But all that comes is more blood. No good bye.

  The pilot’s dead. Trisha is dead.

  A wave of pain greater than anything I’ve known comes sweeping up from my legs. Pounding, as I wait in agony.

  I should be next.

  My eyes close and I hear myself screaming.

  Lights, I scream again.

  Hands. Voices. Still more screaming. Let me die, just let me die!

  “Hold her still!”

  I fight with everything I have.

  Voices reach me through the panic, “She’s convulsing!”

  “Don’t let her hurt herself!”

  “Cat! Wake up!”

  Let me—

  “CAT! WAKE UP!”

  My eyes startle open to Mum, Dad, and Maggie all holding all my less damaged limbs. I’m sweating profusely, my breathing rapid, shallow. The covers unnaturally damp.

  They let me go. And I force myself to count out breaths. Deep, to slow the hammering of my heart.

  Silence.

  “Same dream as before?” Maggie asks, grimly.

  I shake my head. Another deep breath.

  “I—I felt the impact. The harness. My chest. Arms. Being torn—out of their sockets.”

  Maggie crouches beside the bed, listens, nodding slightly. Like she’s studied from my psychologist.

  “So much blood. Trisha! Trisha is dead! She tried saying…” I don’t know how I’m able to talk, or if I’m making sense. “Tried with all her might! So much blood.”

  Mum brings me into her arms. Then I look down at my soiled blankets. “Oh, God.”

  “It’s okay, darling. Come on, let’s get you into something dry.” Mum’s words are comforting as she helps me towards the bathroom.

  The embarrassment sets in, a hot vice on my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. Step into the shower. I’ll get some clean clothes. Okay?”

  It isn’t open for negotiation. I do what I’m told. It’s not like my brain can decide for itself anyway, overloaded with sadness and fear.

  Maggie’s sitting on the bed when I get back. The sheets changed, my parents gone.

  “I’m sorry. How was the trip back, Maggie?”

  She ignores that. “You don’t need to apologise Cat.”

  I sit down beside her, trying to find comfort in her face. But all I see is eyes tired as ever, blonde hair messy and carelessly pushed back. My hand goes to my face, feeling my scar. My beautiful friend looks weathered, and the accident’s left my own face ruined.

  “How was your day?” I ask.

  Her sudden smile is so bright I almost forget how sad I am. “Great. Kathy took me to her place in Manchester. Showed me lots of old photos from when she was a player.” The safe topic helps me calm down. “She’s got the team photo of us from ’96 up on her wall. My arm’s sore from taking notes. We covered what to expect from the bigger teams. How to be a proper Coach.” The fatigue disappearing from her eyes. “It was a master class. State Finals here we come!”

  I realise how much the team means to her. Commands her total focus.

  Her smile vanishes unexpectedly. “And we talked about Sam.”

  A picture forms in my mind. “Sam? Carol’s sister? The bean-pole who can outsprint anyone?”

  My description brings a laugh. “Yep. She’s bulked up a bit. Still quick as a flash.”

  I nod, all the memories coming back. She’d been earmarked as the next Goulburn Hockeyroo. “Is she Captain?”

  “For now,” Maggie sighs. “Anyway, Kathy will try and get down to see you off. How was your day?”

  My own smile feels forced, probably looks more like a grimace. “Pretty good. I got measured up for braces and a stocking. The psychologist pretty much told me I’m going home soon,” I answer. “Then this stupid nightmare happened.”

  “Want to talk about it?” she asks, hand on my shoulder.

  I look at the clock. The question hanging in the air. It’s not yet 5am. The dream can’t hurt me now.

  “You don’t have to worry. It’s just another bad dream.”

  I sleep in the next morning. No one coming to wake me. Instead I find them in the dining room. Sitting around an open laptop. They all turn, hearing my footsteps.

  “Hey, look at you!” Maggie welcomes me. “That’s the most natural I’ve seen you walk yet, Cat!”

  I watch my reflection move in the glass. Maggie’s right. My knee isn’t bandaged and it’ll bend naturally up to a point. I may even have stopped thinking about it with every step.

  I make it to the table. “What are you all doing?”

  “We got great news,” Mum says, “the hospital called. Your stocking and brace will be ready by the end of the day. You’re now cleared to fly.” And I’m cheering before she finishes. “You’re going home!”

  Like I’ve just won a medal, I let out a scream, throwing my hands in the air. “Yay! Is that a flight schedule?” I peer at the screen.

  “Yeah, we’re checking everyone’s flights to see how soon we can all get out of here together.” Ian taps away. “It looks like we might be able to get tomorrow afternoon’s Qantas flight.”

  Something else catches my attention, a familiar looking document wallet with CM written on it. Inside would be my passport, WA and NSW Driver’s licenses, and a plane ticket to Germany I’ll never use.

  “Where did you find that?” I ask, pointing.

  “The touring party had it for safe keeping. Gave it to Kathy before they left for Germany,” Maggie answers. “She never gave up hope.”

  I watch her start to tear up. An arm around her shoulder all I can do. So
many people haven’t given up on me, and this week their dreams have come to pass. I’m going home. But there’s one last thing I need to do before leaving.

  “Okay, we are all sorted,” Ian says. “It’ll take pretty much the last of our coins, but we’re all on tomorrow’s Sydney flight via Bangkok. We fly out at 12:15pm so we’ll pack this place up tonight and make an early start to Heathrow in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll find a way to pay you back once I get home.” Talk of money makes me uncomfortable.

  We’d been on holiday when the accident happened. I wonder aloud, “What’ll this meant for the travel insurance the team had? Will I be covered?”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Ian snaps the laptop closed. “The important thing is you’re going home.”

  Dad should know by now that I’ll do anything I’m determined to. Will sort out the money, somehow.

  “Great news,” Maggie says. “I’ll ring Carol and tell her when we land, Sydney time. And the school and tell them I’ll be back at work on Monday.”

  I giggle. Not sure what to feel anymore. “Joy.”

  “Cat, you should go get changed,” Maggie reminds me. “We’re visiting Trisha today.”

  I give her a bittersweet smile and stand. Now my journey home is secured it’s time to do this one last thing. Today, I say goodbye to Trisha.