by Jay, Libby
“Is Gavin still with you?” I ask Mike. He’s starting to sound dejected.
“Yeah,” Gavin says. “I’m still here.” He sounds down too.
“Guys,” I say. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.” I start to cry again.
I hear Mike’s heavy sigh. “Lyndsay. Don’t give up. You’ll be out really soon.”
“Okay,” I sob.
The hours pass. Mike and Gavin are still on the line. Mike is afraid to hang up in case we can’t get through to each other again. I’ve heard people tell Mike that the phone lines are jammed with people trying to contact loved ones.
Mike begs people to go bring us out. “They’re alive,” he says over and over.
But no one comes.
“Lyndsay,” Mike says down the phone.
“Yeah Mike,” I say slowly. I feel so tired.
“My phone is going to go flat.”
“Okay,” I say. “We’re okay.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m feeling tired.”
“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Lynd’s. Hang in there.” And the line goes dead.
As I come out of sleep, I hear voices and noise. I can feel vibrations under me.
“Hello!” I call out, waking Mikey.
“Ma’am. Are you injured?” an American accented voice answers me.
“No. My legs are stuck. I’m under the bed with a little boy. He is unharmed.”
“We’ll have you out in just a little while. Just sit tight.”
I laugh as relief pours through me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They take Mikey first. He doesn’t want to let go of me but I reassure him that Mike is waiting for him outside. “And I’ll be out real soon. But you need to go with the fireman. Maybe he’ll let you wear his hat if you ask nicely.”
“Are you going to leave me Indsy?”
I kiss his cheek. “Never Mikey. I will never leave you.”
Mikey lets go of me and he slides out from under the bed. With Mikey safe and about to be reunited with his father, I relax a little. I try again to wriggle my toes, but there is no sensation.
A guy crawls in under the bed. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Andrew.” Andrew has a very strong southern American accent.
“Hi Andrew. I’m Lyndsay.”
“Nice to meet you, Lyndsay.” He hands me a small bottle of water with a straw. “Have a drink.”
“Thank you.”
“They’re going to lift the bed off you soon. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t fall on you.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Do you have feeling in your legs?” Andrew asks.
“None. Not for a while.”
“Can you feel that the weight is lifting from your legs?”
I try to move my legs. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t move my legs.” Tears come to my eyes at the realisation that I could come out of this without the use of my legs. Then what good would I be to anyone?
“Okay. It won’t be long now. They’re just lifting a big piece of debris from your leg, and then we’ll lift the bed and get you out of here.”
“Okay.”
Andrew sets up a small jack next to me under the bed. “I’ll need you to lay flat, your cheek pressed against the floor. Then we’ll get you onto a board and carry you out.”
“Okay.”
He smiles at me. “You’re very brave, Lyndsay.”
“You should’ve seen me earlier.” I sniff.
He laughs and reaches out to take my hand. “You’re doing really well.”
A few minutes later, a man calls out that they’re ready to lift the bed.
“We’re good to go,” Andrew calls out and not a second later pain surges to my legs. It’s excruciating and causes me to cry out.
Everything stops.
“Lyndsay, what’s wrong?” Andrew asks me.
“My legs,” I cry out. “They hurt.” I groan and try to move my legs.
“Don’t move,” a voice says from above.
“It hurts. My legs hurt.”
“Can you describe the pain?” Andrew asks. “Is it stabbing or throbbing or...”
“It’s like I’m being stabbed with pins all over.”
“Like pins and needles?”
“But way worse.”
Andrew smiles at me. “You’re going to be okay, Lyndsay.”
Despite the fact that I have full feeling in my legs, I am put onto a stretcher and tied down, while four men in varying uniforms carry me down stairs. We have to travel down fifteen flights of stairs so it takes a while.
When we get to the street, the sun burns my eyes and I quickly close them.
“Lyndsay,” I hear Mike call out. “Let me get to her.”
I open my eyes and Mike appears in my peripheral vision. Mikey is hanging onto him. He’s wearing a fireman’s hat.
“Are you okay?” I feel Mike’s hand touch mine, over the blanket.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Mike looks to Andrew. “Is she really okay?”
“She’s fine. She is one tough cookie.”
“Can we ride with her in the ambulance?” Mike asks.
“If you promise to sign the cab ceiling, I don’t see why that would be a problem.”
I huff. “Are you serious?”
Mike laughs and steps back while I’m manoeuvred into the back of the ambulance.
I’m given x-rays and scans and ultrasounds and a series of other tests but in the end I’m diagnosed with a bad case of bruising. There is no nerve or muscle damage. Not even one broken bone. My legs went numb simply due to the lack of blood supply. And the pain I experienced was the sudden surge of blood back into the legs.
“Pins and needles,” Mike says.
“Yep.” I’m relieved but at the same time I feel a bit silly. I’ve been admitted to hospital for pins and needles.
The doctors want to make sure the bruising doesn’t get any worse before they send me home. I don’t think it could get any worse. The backs of my legs are a combination of black and blue and purple and yellow.
Gavin and Steve are here too. Gavin has made numerous inappropriate comments about my hospital gown, and Steve’s been quiet. Other than a few sympathetic smiles, he’s barely acknowledged that I’m the reason he’s spending the afternoon in a hospital.
Andrew the paramedic drops by and Mike, Gavin and Steve pose for photos with him. He’s more than just a paramedic. He’s some sort of search and rescue guy. He’s also a huge fan of Blue Saturn. He has tickets to tonight’s show, but with all the commotion of the earthquake, it looks like Blue Saturn will be cancelling the concert. Mike has been on the phone with Liane and it looks like we’ll all be heading home sooner than thought.
Andrew starts to talk about the climbing death toll. I close my eyes and tune out. Why am I still alive? Why did seven people die in that hotel and I get away with a few bruises? BRUISES. Not even a broken leg or punctured skin.
Why do I get to live?
I feel a hand settle over mine and I open my eyes. Mike is smiling down at me. We look at each other for a while. I don’t smile back. I can’t. Because suddenly the events of the last twelve hours becomes a reality and I burst into tears. Ugly loud sobs escape my throat and I bawl.
“Hey Lynd’s.” Mike sits on the edge of my bed and wraps his arms around me. “You’re okay. We’re all okay. You’re safe.”
“Mikey,” I sob. “Mikey.”
“He’s perfectly okay. Look.”
I look over to where Mikey is sitting on a chair, playing games on Gavin’s phone.
“He’s unharmed because of you.”
“I was so scared,” I whisper.
“I know you were. But you’re safe now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I continue to cry. Mike’s shirt soon feels wet with my tears. “I want to go home,” I say. I sound pathetic.
“Back to Melbourne?” Mike asks.
I nod my head. “J
ust away from here.”
Gavin speaks from the other side of the bed. “Are you okay Lyndsay?”
“Yeah.” I sniff.
“Shock,” Andrew says. “I don’t blame her.” He starts to explain what shock is but I tune out. I just focus all my attention on Mike. His arms holding me. His strength. His reassuring whispers as he tells me I’m safe and that he’s here and that I’m going to be okay.
I feel my body relax against his. I feel my eyes close and refuse to open again. I feel him gently lower me back against the pillow. I feel him wipe my tears from my cheeks. I feel him kiss my forehead. I feel him take hold of my hand.
I can feel him.
I can feel him.
*****
We couldn’t go back to the hotel. There wasn’t much to go back to. Instead, Mike hired vans and we’re driving to Rotorua. From Rotorua, a chartered flight has been arranged to fly us to Wellington. From Wellington, we’ll fly to Brisbane. It’s going to be a long night and day, but hopefully we should be back in Brisbane before tomorrow night.
Mike asked me if I was happy to go to Brisbane for a few days before we head back to Melbourne. Gavin and Steve wanted some sunshine. I said I was happy to go to Brisbane as long as we can stay in the same penthouse apartment. Mike laughed and said I should consider it a given.
I’m holding it together pretty well. A few times, when things are quiet and my brain is allowed to think, tears well in my eyes and spill out to my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away. I don’t want Mikey to see me upset. I don’t really want anyone to see me upset. But I know I’m not fooling anyone.
My legs ache, especially when I walk. The doctor said I need to walk though, to make sure no clots form.
During the three hour drive to Rotorua, I stretch my legs out and bend them back again. I wriggle my toes and rotate my ankles. Mike even rubs my feet for a while.
I tell myself I’ll be fine once I’m back on home soil and after a good night’s sleep.
But I don’t sound too convincing.
15.
Somewhere along the line, Mike arranged for clothes to be delivered to the hotel in Brisbane. When we arrived at the apartment late this morning, the wardrobe in my room was full of dresses and pants and t-shirts and jumpers...and underwear.
“It bothers me that you know what size bra I wear Mike,” I say as I join him on the balcony after showering and getting dressed.
Mike laughs. “I’ve been in the business for a very long time.”
I have no idea what he means by that, so I shake my head and sit down in the sun.
“Where’s the little man?” Mike asks.
“He’s fallen asleep on his bed.”
“You look like you could do with a nap too.”
“I’m okay for now. I’ll have an early night tonight.” The truth is I’d love nothing more than to go to sleep, but I’m feeling like I need some company. If I could, I would get Gavin to come for a run with me, but I’m pretty sure my legs aren’t up to it just yet. Besides, Mike didn’t get me any runners. I’m sure he did that on purpose.
“Do you feel like doing anything tomorrow?” Mike asks me. “Steve and Gavin want to go to Wet ‘N Wild. I thought we could all go.”
I stretch my legs out. “I don’t think my legs are in a state to be seen in public places. But you go. I’d actually like to stay here and rest up a bit.”
The boys are scheming. I don’t know what about. There’ve been hushed whispers and whenever I go into the kitchen, everything goes very quiet. They’re talking about me.
I’m sitting on the couch, reading a story to Mikey when Mike comes and sits next to me. He listens until I’ve finished reading and then he takes the book from me. “Come with me,” he says.
I follow him to his bedroom and through to his bathroom. The bath is full of water and bubbles and the spa jets are running.
“I like you and all Mike, but I don’t think we should have a bath together,” I say, the jest in my voice a nice surprise.
Mike laughs. “As much as I’d love to join you, I have other plans. You get into the bath and you’re not allowed to come out until I say you can.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s a surprise. Go on. Get in. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Mike leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
The bath is heavenly. I sit immediately in front of a jet and let it massage my lower back. The aching in my legs soon subsides and as I relax I feel weightless.
I’d be quite happy to stay here all night.
But Mike has other ideas. He knocks on the door and slowly opens it.
Bubbles cover me entirely, only my neck and head are exposed.
“It’s time to get out,” he says, grabbing a robe from the hook and holding it open to me.
“Not a chance Mike,” I say.
He laughs and puts the robe back on the hook. “It was worth a try. Don’t be too long. We’re ready for you.”
“Who is we?” I ask but he doesn’t answer. I get out of the bath and dry myself off before donning a robe and heading to my room to get dressed.
It’s a very mild evening. I slip a long dress on over my head and leave my feet bare. I can tell by the aroma in the apartment that we’re eating in tonight. I have no idea what they’ve ordered up, but it smells divine.
I head out to the living area and stop dead in my tracks. The mess in the kitchen tells me that someone has been cooking. In fact, it looks more like three musicians have been cooking. Steve is serving up pasta into bowls.
“Don’t worry about the mess. Housekeeping will be up later to clean up.” Mike appears beside me. “We’re eating out on the balcony.”
I turn around and look out through the windows. The outside table has been set with plates and glasses and candles. I look up at Mike and smile at him.
“We wanted to do something nice for you,” he says. “Steve is actually a pretty decent cook, so the food should taste good.”
“It smells awesome.” I turn around and smile at Steve.
I follow Mike out onto the balcony. Mikey is sitting at a placing, as is Gavin. Mike and I sit down next to each other as Steve brings out the first bowls of pasta. It’s gnocchi with a tomato based vegetable sauce stirred through it.
My mouth begins to water. I realise that it’s been over twenty four hours since I last ate a decent meal.
Once Steve is seated we all begin our entree. Apparently, there is a main and dessert to follow.
As the sky darkens, I forget about the pain in my legs, I forget about earthquakes and death tolls. I listen to Gavin tell stories about him and Mike as kids. Steve tells me about his disastrous audition for drummer and how his hands were so sweaty he could barely hold his drum sticks. He begged Mike for a second chance and proved himself a fully capable drummer.
Gavin is the first to leave and Steve follows not long after. I thank him profusely for a wonderful dinner and he steps forward and gives me a small hug.
Mikey fell asleep in Mike’s lap sometime after dessert, but he decides to hold onto him a little bit longer. I wonder if he’s thinking about what he could’ve lost had I not got him under the bed in time. I feel my eyes begin to sting and quickly steer my thoughts toward something else.
“What’s going to happen to Paul?” I ask.
“Do you really care?” Mike asks.
“A little bit. Some people are saying he left because of me.”
“Don’t listen to those people Lyndsay. He was fired because he was on his last warning.”
“Will he join another band?”
“Probably. He’s a good guitarist. It’s his attitude that stinks.” He looks out to the lights of the city. “Don’t worry about Paul.”
Mike and I sit out on the balcony together while housekeeping clean the kitchen. Once they leave, Mike carries Mikey to bed and joins me again on the balcony. I’ve moved to a lounge and Mike lies down on the one next to me.
“How are you feeling?” he as
ks.
“I’m okay.”
Mike looks over to me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I turn my head to look at him. “I’m sure.”
“If you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.”
“I know you are,” I whisper.
We lay side by side looking at each other. I have no idea what’s happening between Mike and I, but right now, I love the way he’s looking at me. It’s almost as if his eyes are touching every part of my body. Can eyes do that? Can eyes make the skin on my toes feel alive, even though his eyes aren’t moving from mine? Can eyes make the heart race, make the mouth dry and make the stomach somersault? Because that’s what I’m feeling, right now, while looking into Mike’s eyes.
A phone rings. Mike closes his eyes and looks away from me. “I need to get that,” he says. I hear his curt greeting to Liane as he walks into the apartment and into his bedroom.
It’s getting late and Mike is still talking on his phone. I decide to call it a night. I go to my bathroom, brush my teeth and get ready for bed.
As soon as the silence of my room hits my senses the tears start. At first they’re slow and run from the corner of my eyes down to my ears. When my breathing becomes laboured, I roll onto my front and cry into the pillow. The more I try not to think about how close we came to death, the more I cry. The panic overwhelms me. I don’t know if it’s the dark room or the fact that I’m alone in silence and darkness for the first time since the earthquake hit or what it is but I can’t bear to be in my bedroom. I need air. I need to feel the cool air against my skin. I stagger out of bed and out onto the balcony.
My sobs are getting louder and more erratic and my tears stream from my eyes.
Mikey could’ve died.
I could’ve died.
I would give my life for that little boy.
I don’t want to die.
I want to live.
Mikey could’ve died.
He could’ve died.
I could’ve lost him.