“Would it be okay if I came to see you again?” I asked as I stared at her, trying to memorize her features in case she said no. “Before I go back home?”
Abby nodded as her eyes closed again. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “Thank you, Nate. You make me feel...safe.”
I held her hand and watched her sleep for another fifteen minutes before standing up slowly and slipping out the door.
THEN
ABBY
THE NEXT FEW days went by in a blur. My fractured bones were healing, the stitches would come out in two weeks, and I’d have to spend a couple of months in physiotherapy. The yellow daffodils Nate brought hadn’t yet started to wilt, and I wished they would. When he’d asked me if I liked them I’d said yes, they were my favorite. It wasn’t true. I still hated daffodils.
I tried not to think about Liam too often. He’d respected my wishes and stayed away. If he hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to stick to my plan. I missed him. I missed Tom. Part of me even missed Mum. At least until the nurse Nate called “McNugget” told me my mother had phoned, briefly asking how I was, but declining the offer to talk to me herself.
“She thought it was for the best,” the nurse said, eyes downcast, head shaking slightly, before she retreated to the safety of her station.
Dr. Patel came in the afternoon, and I noticed the concern in his eyes had lessened. “You’ve seen the grief counselor?” he said.
“Yes. It was helpful.” When he stared at me I forced a smile. “Very helpful.”
Actually, it had been hell. An entire hour where I was expected to talk about myself to a complete stranger I’d never see again. I hadn’t known where to start. I didn’t want to speak about my father abandoning us, my mother’s bitter resentment or my brother’s accident. We wouldn’t have left but the tiniest of scratches in the surface of those beasts. What was the point?
Instead, I talked about Tom. How he made me laugh, how smart he was, how he’d run the fastest mile in school, a record, people prophesized, which would remain unbeaten for at least a decade. “He’s really, really good at sports,” I said to the counselor with a smile, which immediately disappeared when I realized I’d referred to Tom in the present tense again. I hadn’t said much more afterward.
“Abby,” Dr. Patel interrupted my thoughts. “As we discussed yesterday, I’m happy to release you today, if you’re ready to go home?”
“Yes,” I said. Getting away from everybody was finally within my reach. “Please.”
“Can someone come and get you?” He raised his eyebrows when I shrugged and added, “It’ll be tricky with your things and the crutches, you know?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Good grief, you’re the most stubborn patient I’ve met in a long time.” He paused. “And that’s why I know you’ll continue to recover. Make sure you take the pills I prescribed, and I’ll see you in two weeks for the stitches. And take it easy,” he added, crossing his arms and frowning like an overprotective headmaster speaking to his student. “That’s an order.” Then he walked over, and for a second I thought he’d give me a hug, but he shook my hand and left me to start gathering my things.
After a few minutes I decided he was right—I needed help. Not many people had visited me over the past week, although a handful had called. With an uncomfortable knot in my stomach I realized I didn’t have many close friends. Keeping people at a distance came with stark consequences, and recently it had been all about Tom, Liam and me.
So, I had two choices. Mum—the option almost choked me—and Liam, equally impossible. As I sat on the hard, plastic chair, I decided there was a third possibility.
Although I hadn’t expected—let alone asked—him to, Nate had come back to the hospital every day. He’d stayed for more than an hour each time and had done most of the talking. I’d been surprised by how much I enjoyed his company. It helped me feel less alone, and took my mind off things for a while, although I knew that soon he’d be going back to his normal life and I’d have no choice but to get on with mine.
“I’m definitely leaving on Friday,” he’d said yesterday afternoon, sitting in his usual uncomfortable plastic chair, his legs stretched out, his brown cowlick sticking up at yet another angle. “But I’m glad I stayed this week.”
“Did you get a lot done?”
“Yeah. Most of Granddad’s stuff, you know, things at the house, the last legal bits.” He paused. “I don’t know if I’ll have to come back again.”
“Up north?”
“Uh-huh. But I hope so and—” he cleared his throat “—can I call you when I’m here? Or before, even?”
I looked at him. His gentle blue eyes, funny-looking hair, three-day stubble and slight shadows under his eyes. Although I hadn’t known him for long, I could tell he was a kind man. Solid. The type who wouldn’t mess you around. He’d make whoever he ended up with very happy.
“I’m not, uh, expecting anything...romantic,” he said quickly, apparently more than a little flustered by my silence. “God, that sounded crap.” He rolled his eyes. “Look. I know you haven’t had a boyfriend for ages—”
“Well—” I started to correct him, but remembered just in time how I’d said I’d been single for a while. How could I tell Nate about Liam when the mere thought of him made me want to bury my head in my pillow and sob? With Nate I could pretend I had a slightly different past. Use him as an escape from my real life. If I didn’t tell him about Liam, if I didn’t acknowledge his existence, then I’d never have to talk about him again. Never have to openly mourn the loss of our relationship either. Goodness knows I was barely coping with Tom’s d—I couldn’t even think the d-word yet. It was too raw, too painful.
“—so I’m not trying to pick you up, okay?” Nate had continued talking. “But I...I care about what happens to you, Abby.”
“I don’t think I deserve that.”
“Of course you do. And you don’t have to be alone. You said your mum isn’t...well, you know. So let me be there for you.” He smiled. “As a friend.”
“A friend?”
“Everybody needs a friend sometimes.” When I didn’t answer he said, “Okay. Here’s my number back home, and the one where you can get hold of me until Friday. Just in case.” He tore a piece from one of my magazines and scribbled the digits, then pushed the note into my hands. And a little while later, when he’d given me a hug, kissed my forehead and walked out of the room, I’d been pretty sure I’d never see him again. But something had stopped me from throwing the piece of paper away.
I hobbled around as best I could and finally located the note under my shoes. After taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone and dialed Nate’s number.
* * *
Within an hour I heard the noise of Nate’s sneakers squeaking along the corridor, and as I took in the dampness of his hair and the scent of fresh aftershave, my stomach curled up at the realization that the effort might be for me.
“Sorry I’m a bit late,” he said. “I was helping Dad clear out Granddad’s shed. You should’ve seen the sawdust. The spiders down my shirt weren’t particularly welcome either.”
At that point I told myself to stop being so self-involved and grabbed my crutches, determined to make the trip to Nate’s car without the wheelchair Dr. Patel had recommended.
“Do you have everything?” Nate asked gently.
I looked around. There were still Get Well Soon cards and a couple of bunches of flowers dotted around the room. Not many people had congratulated me on my birthday—which wasn’t a surprise. “Yes. Everything I need.”
“Would you like to take your daffodils?” Nate said with a hopeful look, and despite myself, I nodded. His face burst into a smile. “I’ll get some newspaper.”
As we slowly walked out of the room and down the corridor to the lifts, the nurse came out of a nearby room and
rushed over, instructing Nate to take care of me. When she hugged me carefully, she whispered, “You’ll get through this, Abby. I promise. It’ll take time, but you will.” I had to bite my lip to stop myself from blubbing, and wished she were my mum.
Except for me occasionally giving Nate directions, we were both silent on the drive back to my cozy flat above the Kettle Club. I clutched the few things I’d stuffed into plastic bags close to my chest, and stared out of the car window. How could everything look exactly the same as before, when my entire world had changed?
“Thank you,” I said as we finally made it up the steep flight of stairs to my front door. I slid the key in the lock and turned to Nate. “I’m grateful, really. But I can manage now. I know you’ve got to get going.”
He smiled and held the door open while I hobbled through with my crutches. “Don’t be daft. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“I don’t think I have any milk.”
He shrugged. “I’ll pop out and get a pint.”
I turned and looked up at his kind smile and smooth, clean-shaven skin. A little voice whispered I didn’t deserve to have someone taking care of me, but I flicked the annoying creature away. “I think I should lie down for a bit.”
“You rest, okay? I’ll get some milk, then sit on the sofa and, uh—” he looked at the coffee table “—flick through Cosmo.” He grinned. “I might learn something.”
When I struggled up a while later I heard rustling and the sound of the kettle being filled. I limped into the kitchen to find Nate, who’d strewn a few empty plastic bags over the floor.
“Did you go...shopping?” I looked at the lettuce, apples and bread, the ham, cheese, tinned soup and baked beans on the kitchen counter. He’d even gotten two packets of Hobnobs, and found a vase to put the daffodils in.
He shrugged. “Your cupboards were empty.” I noticed a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. “And you can’t pick much up with those crutches.”
“Thanks, Nate. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t be silly.”
I looked around. He’d put away the dishes and arranged my post in a neat pile, too; now he was busying himself by putting the washed apples in a bowl. “Are you secretly Mary Poppins?”
He put his head back and laughed. “You were out cold, and after learning about power dressing for work and, uh, other techniques from your magazine, I thought I’d help you get organized.” He picked the plastic bags off the floor. “Do you want a cup of tea? Oh, and I also bought some big bags and string, so you can tie one around your leg when you shower. That way the water won’t—”
“Nate?”
He took a deep breath and held up his hands. “You’re going to tell me to stop fussing, aren’t you? That I can’t fix everything?”
“Sounds like someone already beat me to it.”
He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “When Nana died I stayed with Granddad for a week. Helped him around the house, did his shopping. Bought him Hobnobs.” I smiled back and he continued. “He patted my back one night and said how grateful he was, but fussing over him wasn’t the only way to help myself feel better.” He looked away. “I guess this is the same thing.”
We said nothing for a while but stood in the kitchen until the kettle switched itself off and the pain started creeping up my legs. I hadn’t been on my feet this long for a week.
“What are you going to do about work?” Nate said as I eased myself onto the sofa.
“I spoke to Stu yesterday.” I winced as I lifted my leg onto a pillow, relieving some of the pressure. “The Kettle Club owner,” I added when Nate shook his head. I kept forgetting we’d only known each other for a few days. “He wants me to take more time off, but I said I’ll start Monday.”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“I have to keep myself busy.” I looked away.
“But don’t you think—”
“Life’s going to continue as normal whether I want it to or not. I’d better get used to it.”
He gestured to my leg. “But how will you manage with that thing?”
“I suppose this is one of those times where living above work has its advantages. And Stu agreed I’ll just cover the bar. He said he’d do the rest for a while.” I waved a hand. “It’ll be fine.”
“God, you’re stubborn.”
“Yeah, Tom always says...” I cleared my throat. “Thanks for helping me.”
“Abby—” he stuffed his hands into his pockets “—will you be okay at the funeral tomorrow?”
“I’m not going.”
He walked over and sat down in front of me on the coffee table. “But you have to. It’ll help with closure and—”
“With all due respect, Nate, I don’t give a shit about closure right now.”
“You say that now, but in the future you’ll—”
“In the future Tom will still be dead, so what does it matter? Anyway, I can’t go.”
“Why?” When I didn’t answer he gently put his index finger under my chin and turned my face toward his. “Are you worried about what people will say? Is that it?”
“No.” I blinked back the tears. “Mum called the hospital and said I shouldn’t come. She doesn’t want me there.”
“Jesus.” Nate whistled as he got up and paced around the living room. “Where’s the service?”
“I’m not sure. Mum didn’t say.”
“What’s her number?”
“Nate, I—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to give her hell. Just let me call her and find out where and when, okay? Then you decide whether you want to go.”
“I told you, I’m not welcome.”
“I’ll take you. We’ll get there late and stay at the back. Nobody knows my car. You can go all Audrey Hepburn style. Big hat and glasses.” He paused when I didn’t smile. “Tom’s your brother. You have to go.”
“Why are you doing this for me? Why are you being so kind?”
He walked over, knelt down and grabbed hold of my hands. “Like I said, I’m helping myself, too. Let me do this, okay?”
“I can’t give you anything in return.”
He squeezed my hands. “I’m not expecting you to.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
He picked up the phone and I gave him Mum’s number. I listened as he extended his condolences, saying he’d been at university with Tom, and could she please give him the details of the funeral because he’d like to pay his respects. His voice was soft and gentle, and I closed my eyes as I listened to him.
“Ten thirty tomorrow,” he said after he rang off. “I’ll pick you up at quarter to.”
* * *
I had planned to go to the funeral, truly, I had. I’d managed to get up early, tie a bag around my leg, shower, stand long enough to put on makeup in an attempt to camouflage my cuts and bruises, pull on a black dress and find the biggest, darkest glasses I had. But when I opened my wardrobe and finally located my big blue straw hat with the white rim, I sat down on my bed, completely still, unable to move.
I clutched the hat close to my chest as if doing so would bring the memories back to life. Tom had given me the hat for Christmas three years ago. He’d wrapped it up in tissue paper and the biggest box he could find.
“A summer hat?” I said, as I pulled it out from the layers and layers of bright pink-and-purple paper. “Wow, thanks, Tommy.” I raised my eyebrows to the heavens. “What a practical present for this time of year.”
Tom had laughed. “Cut the sarcasm, you ungrateful little shit. It’s a subliminal message.”
“What? A reminder that I’m going to freeze my bum off for the next few months?”
“You’re such a pessimist, Shabby.” He plopped the hat on my head. “Remember you used to say you didn’t care about the rain because the sun would alw
ays come?”
“Yeah.” Since then my eternal optimism had taken such a beating, it had retreated into its shell like a turtle, expecting to be whacked on the nose each time it dared come out.
“Well.” Tom crossed his arms and sat back on the sofa. “This is a reminder. Whatever happens, spring and summer will always come. Things will always get better.”
The memories of the conversation first took my breath away, then tore my heart clean down the middle. I lay back down on my bed, not caring if my dress got rumpled or my mascara traveled in black smudgy rivers down my cheeks.
“Abby?” His soft voice startled me, and I turned my head toward Nate, who stood in the doorway. “I knocked but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked so I... Oh, Jesus.” Within a second he was next to me, his arms holding me tight, helping me sit up.
“I...” The words wouldn’t come out. “I, uh... I...can’t go, Nate.” My voice was so low I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Not with Mum and everybody... I...I can’t.”
“Abby...”
“It was my fault,” I said, pulling away from him, suddenly needing him to hear the truth about what I’d done, wanting him to know exactly what kind of a person I was. “I drank and I drove.” The words tumbled out before I could even try to stop them. “I was wasted. And I crashed the car. And Tom’s dead. It’s all my fault.”
Nate looked at me for a second, then wrapped his arms around me again as more of my tears soaked into his shirt.
“It’s all because of me,” I whispered.
“But you didn’t—”
“You don’t get it.” I pushed Nate away, angrily swiping at my tearstained cheeks with the back of my hand. “Tom’s dead. I’m not. You see? I drove and I lived. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”
“I’m not going to pretend I understand what you’re going through,” Nate said gently. “But both of you got in the car. You didn’t force Tom. He could have called a cab, too.”
“Yeah? Well, Tom’s not here anymore so that exonerates him from any kind of blame, doesn’t it? It’s far more difficult to hate someone who’s...not here anymore when there’s a living, breathing person who’ll fit the bill. Just ask my mother.” I looked at him. “You can go if you want. You don’t have to stay.”
The Neighbors Page 15