Things We Cannot See

by Dianne Maguire

  She arrived at his room to a closed door and waited for a moment, glancing awkwardly along the corridor, uncertain if she should enter. The door burst open then and Patrice stepped out carrying a bundle of towels, instantly taken aback to see Laura.

  ‘You can go in now. I’ve just sponged him and given him his gastric nutriment.’ Her smile broadened. ‘He’ll probably be eating real food soon,’ she said as though delivering the best of news.

  Laura wandered in and stood at Simon’s side, stared down at his gauntness, the plastic bag of urine dangling close to the floor, and wondered for how much longer she could do this. Ten long minutes later she walked out.

  Dusk was falling when she finally pulled into her driveway, cut the ignition, gathered up her bag and briefcase, expecting the entire time to hear Callie’s excited bark from the back. But there was only the muffled roar of the waves and the occasional screech of seagulls over the sea. She ran up the steps and across the deck, fumbled with the front door key, dropped her bag on the breakfast bar and rushed to the back door, peering through the glass, hoping to see Callie’s beseeching dark eyes gazing up at her as she anxiously awaited entry. But the space where she should have been was alarmingly empty.

  Laura searched under bushes and behind the shed, her heart lurching when she was finally forced to accept that Callie was gone. ‘Callie?’ she called yet again, suddenly spotting a pile of dirt in the corner of the fence only to find an excavation. ‘Oh my God, Flynn will kill me if anything happens to that bloody dog,’ she muttered frantically, looking around as though willpower alone would cause Callie to suddenly appear.

  She hurriedly changed into runners and charged out onto the street, calling Callie’s name, running along the worn gravel of Flynn’s driveway, about to head to the backyard when she spotted Callie, curled up tight in the corner on Flynn’s front door mat. Her heart breaking at the sight of the dog’s lowered head, her drooping ears, the way she cowered in the corner, Laura crept towards her. ‘Callie,’ she whispered, sensing the dog could dart past her and run away. ‘You’re missing Flynn, aren’t you? Poor puppy. Poor little girl,’ she soothed, inching towards her as Callie’s tail wagged tentatively at first and then with more confidence. ‘Come on. Let’s check on Gorgeous before we take you home for dinner,’ she murmured, scooping the dog into her arms and squeezing her to her chest.

  Callie followed as Laura made her way through the rear gate into Flynn’s backyard. She surveyed the struggling patch of lawn bordered by various clay sculptures among cacti and palms. ‘Where have you been?’ a voice squawked from the corner. ‘Come on. Give us a kiss.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Laura left footprints across the dew-soaked front lawn as she ran across, zipping her jacket and squinting up at the sun’s glare despite its struggle to emerge from behind grey cloud. Callie raced ahead into the dunes, her excited barks floating across the still dawn. Breaking into a run Laura followed Callie onto the sand, her thoughts still riveted on last night’s call from Flynn.

  It was late when the shrill ring of her mobile had cut into the movie she was watching as Callie snored softly beside her on the sofa. For a while she had simply watched it flash ‘No Caller ID’ and ring, afraid to answer because at that hour it could have meant significant news, good or bad, about Simon. When she had finally answered and found it was Flynn, she realised that in Western Australia the hour would still have been relatively early.

  ‘How are my girls?’ he said, his tone tinged with melancholy.

  ‘They’re still alive,’ she joked. ‘And I think they’re happy. Callie is missing you though.’

  ‘Is she asking after me?’

  ‘It’s just women’s intuition,’ she replied, not wanting to tell him about Callie’s escape to home. Not yet. ‘How are you, Flynn?’

  ‘I’m exercising more tolerance than I thought I possessed. If my sister were not here I would have killed one or more members of my family by now . . . I miss my dad, though,’ he had said after a pause. ‘I really wish we’d spent more time together when he was alive. It’s only now he’s gone that I realise how much I loved him.’

  He cleared his throat and Laura remained quiet, knowing he’d only want her ear at this stage, not words of advice, and wondering how his father had died.

  ‘He was in his eighties and still working around the house. He fell off a ladder and never regained consciousness,’ Flynn said as though reading her thoughts.

  ‘Oh Flynn, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter how old someone is, how good a life they’ve had, the shock, the grief is no less when we lose them.’

  ‘Yeah. It makes you realise how bloody short life can be, even in your eighties . . . Anyway, enough about me,’ he said in a suddenly brighter tone, ‘how are you?’

  ‘I’m good. Callie is great company. Oh, and we have had a couple of wins at work. So all good.’

  ‘And Simon? How is he?’

  ‘He’s breathing on his own now, which, according to the doctors, is very good news. They expect he’ll emerge from his coma quite soon.’

  ‘Will they know then if there’s been any damage to his brain?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  It was an unexpected question, even from Flynn. It had crossed her mind then that although he was prone to being open, his emotional vulnerability at this time had probably lifted the veil of caution she often detected in him. ‘I don’t know to be honest with you, Flynn,’ she said.

  ‘You’re just taking things one day at a time, hey? It sounds too familiar.’

  It was not his words that had unsettled her, not even his additional frankness. It was his intimate tone, especially the softness in his voice when he had told her, ‘I miss home. I can’t wait to see you and my girls again.’

  Laura had just dropped Callie at home because it was obvious that was where she preferred to be, and was climbing into her car for work when Bryce Cowlett rang.

  ‘Laura, Simon is conscious,’ he announced the moment she answered, his voice brimming with joy.

  A myriad of feelings assaulted her – shock, disappointment, fear, anger, everything and anything but glee. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said, knowing it was expected. ‘Is he speaking?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his mounting excitement clearly evident. ‘Most aspects of his memory and awareness seem to be quite good. There is some lack of movement on his right side, but that’s to be expected. The extent of damage will not be clear without further tests. But in view of his injuries this is exceptionally good news,’ he concluded.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ she repeated, forcing a smile. ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be in to see him today.’ She dropped her mobile into her bag and stared out at the water as dense cloud drifted across the sun, turning silver patches of sea to grey. And she wondered how she would have felt had this moment occurred six months ago.

  The coffee machine churned out her first cup for the day as she gazed down at Callie, comforted by the dog’s presence, even though that had not been the reason she’d immediately fetched her back from Flynn’s house. She savoured her first mouthful of coffee and dialled Tom’s number.

  ‘Tom, it’s Laura,’ she said once he answered. ‘I won’t be in today. Simon is awake.’

  ‘That’s great, isn’t it?’ he said, his own tone reflecting her uncertainty.

  ‘Yes – it is, really great. I’m still shell-shocked, of course.’

  ‘Of course. It’s only natural. But you’ll be fine when you come face to face with him again. It must all be very strange for you. Look after him, and yourself – take all the time you need,’ he said.

  Curled on the sofa with her second coffee she dialled Tara’s number, knowing the timing would be bad and that she was probably in the middle of dropping Seth at school.

  ‘Hey,’ Tara answered ‘How are you?’

  Her own despondency in the face of Tara’s obvious joy only pushed her g
uilt further. ‘I’m not sure to be honest . . . Simon’s awake.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes. Precisely,’ Laura said. ‘Apparently there has been minimal brain damage but they’re still running tests. Dr Cowlett said he’ll need rehab to address the paralysis to his right side but . . . well, he seems to have come through much better than expected.’ She sighed. Swallowed her tears.

  ‘I love Simon as Seth’s grandfather,’ Tara said. ‘But I cannot forgive him for what he has done to your trust and your loyalty . . . Mum, you needn’t feel guilty for wishing he was back in a coma.’

  They both laughed at how ridiculous, how poignant Tara’s comment sounded. How accurate.

  ‘I’ll be in court first thing this morning,’ Tara added, suddenly serious again. ‘But I can be at the hospital just before lunch if you need moral support.’

  Laura changed into jeans, boots and a sweater, returned Callie to Flynn’s back yard, said hello to Gorgeous, and drove to the hospital in what could only be described as a state of despair. She wondered about flowers, perhaps a pack of his favourite sweets to say welcome back. But she decided to start the way she intended finishing . . . to avoid creating false expectations.

  She felt worse than ever about what was to follow when the lift tinged its all too-familiar signal. Stepping out and facing the nurses station, Laura forced a jovial smile when Patrice gave her a beaming thumbs up from behind her computer. Laura returned the gesture and continued towards Simon’s room, stepping in only to find it empty. That was when Patrice scampered in after her.

  ‘Simon has been taken down for X-rays. He shouldn’t be much longer,’ she said, sharing what Laura suspected was a conspiratorial air of mutual excitement she did not feel. ‘Isn’t it great news?’ Patrice said, screwing up her face and lifting her shoulders rapturously.

  ‘Yes. It’s wonderful news,’ Laura said, forcing her smile to widen but refusing to be a part of Patrice’s excitement.

  Noticing the room was now almost devoid of equipment, she chose a chair and fossicked in her bag for her novel, finally opening it to read and reread the same page without comprehending a word, glancing at her watch with every minute that passed and wishing Simon would return so they could get what had to be done over with.

  A gurney rattled along the corridor and Laura sat to her full height in the chair, clearing her throat and crossing her hands over the novel on her lap when she heard the gurney slowing at Simon’s door. And before she had really had enough time to prepare herself, there he was, propped up on pillows, his hair combed, his face scrubbed clean, his smile unfettered from the very moment his eyes met hers.

  ‘Hello,’ she said rising, wondering whether she was smiling. She stepped towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek, feeling neither rancour nor warmth.

  ‘Hey, enough of that. Just wait for us to get him settled first,’ the orderly joked as Simon beamed even further. The orderly and a nurse, who looked too young even to have graduated high school yet, deftly wheeled his bed back into place, all the while sharing jokes while Simon smiled intently in her direction, his eyes diverting only occasionally when the nurse made a specific request.

  ‘Right, you must take it easy now,’ she said, folding the sheet neatly under his chin, fluffing his pillows before placing them back behind his head. ‘Not too much excitement – OK?’ she said, grinning towards Laura as they left.

  The room filled with silence, broken only by the beep of the sole monitor. Laura felt a profound sense of discomfort at suddenly finding herself alone with him now he was conscious. He extended his arms, wearing the expression of an injured child begging his mother for a hug. Laura was about to oblige, in the absence of not knowing what else to do, when Dr Cowlett appeared after a sharp rap on the open door.

  ‘Hello, Laura,’ he said. ‘Are you glad to have your boy back?’ His tone assumed the answer could only be in the affirmative as he continued. ‘I’ll be out of your way in just a moment,’ he said, slowly scanning Simon’s chart before slipping it back into the receptacle on the end of the bed. ‘From today we’ll gradually introduce you to oral feeding,’ he said to Simon. ‘But we will leave the gastric tube in for a little longer yet. Your fractures are healing nicely, so just take it easy now that you can move around more freely. That’s it for now.’ He slipped his pen in his top pocket and issued yet another broad smile on his way out of the room.

  With Dr Cowlett’s departure, Simon extended his arms to Laura again. ‘I can’t wait to hold you,’ he said.

  She studied the face she had loved for so many years, anguish stabbing at her inability to see any semblance of the man she thought he had once been. ‘Is that right, Simon? You really can’t wait to hold me?’ she said from where she sat.

  His brow furrowed and his jaw dropped. ‘Of course, I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘The last thought I had before I was hit by that speeding car, was about you.’

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Perhaps you had been thinking how you were going to keep me from ever knowing about your new “friends”?’ She made quotation marks with her fingers, surprised at the angry tremble claiming her voice.

  Simon’s frown deepened and the colour drained from his face. He looked to the side as though studying the wall, as though thinking he had been through all this before, before looking at her again. He shook his head. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘It crossed my mind you may have forgotten – you know, because of your damaged brain. But Dr Cowlett assures me your memory is fine. So fess up, Simon. It’s simple, just say, “Laura, I have something to tell you. For months I’ve been paying to be connected with other married and attached people to have sex with me”. There, you don’t even have to utter the words, I’ve said them for you,’ she said, the shrill pitch of her voice alarming even her. She cleared her throat.

  An expression resembling fear had replaced Simon’s frown. ‘I don’t get what has happened.’

  ‘OK, let me put you out of your misery,’ Laura said, rising from her chair and sitting on the edge of his bed, capturing his bewildered stare with her avid gaze. ‘For months you have been paying to have sex through a website that has recently been hacked and details sprayed all over the media. You are registered on that site, Simon, via your business email address. And your bank statements provide tawdry proof of how often you indulged.’

  Simon laid his head back on the pillows. ‘I can’t remember,’ he said as though in a daze. ‘I seriously cannot remember doing anything like that.’

  ‘Well, how convenient,’ she said, staring past him at the thickening cloud outside.

  Simon shook his head. ‘Laura you have to believe me,’ he said, his eyes pleading. ‘I seriously do not remember.’

  She stood and made her way to the door. ‘I need to be alone. I’m going down for a coffee.’ Whether or not he could remember was immaterial to her. He did what he did when he was in a perfectly sound state of mind – and there was no undoing it.

  Among the bustling throngs of people filling the tiny coffee shop, Laura sat at a bench facing the window with a view out onto the car park, a young couple on one side of her sharing messages on their phones, an older woman on the other side, silently and thoughtfully sipping a hot chocolate. She paused with a steaming cup of camomile tea at her lips, absent-mindedly blowing across its surface before each sip, watching but not really seeing people filtering from the car park into the front entrance of the hospital, and pondering why she had found it intolerable to remain in Simon’s room once they had commenced the conversation she had been so anxiously awaiting for weeks. At first her ringing phone didn’t register until she felt the woman at her side peering at her. Tara’s image smiled up at her and she quickly answered the call.

  ‘Are you at the hospital?’ Tara said. ‘Have you seen him? How is he?’ she added before Laura could reply.

  ‘He’s fully coherent. He seems pretty much like the old Simon, apart from the bandages and some weight loss
. But he’s absolutely adamant he cannot remember using the website. I’m sitting here wondering whether he’s telling me the truth. I don’t know any more,’ she said, shaking her head and peering down at the black Formica surface of the bench, rubbing at a spot with her index finger.

  ‘I’ve finished in court, so I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ Tara said.

  ‘Thanks, Tara. I’m in the coffee shop at the front entrance. We’ll go up to his room together,’ Laura said.

  They walked silently along the corridor, Tara pausing at his door to allow Laura to step into his room first.

  Simon lay against the pillows seemingly asleep, yet he opened his eyes the moment Laura entered, his face breaking into a grateful smile when he saw Tara behind her.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. Laura was reminded by his tone that Simon and Tara had always shared tacit understanding of each other, even in the face of Laura’s disapproval. It was like a joint advocacy pact – you watch my back and I’ll cover yours.

  Tara stepped over and kissed his cheek. ‘Hi, Simon. It’s great to see you back in the land of the living,’ she said, smiling.

  Laura felt her eyebrow arch.

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ he answered, his eyes flitting to Laura before returning to Tara.

  ‘Do you have any pain?’ She sat on the chair at his side while Laura remained standing at the foot of the bed, chastened at not having asked similar questions before embarking upon her tirade of rebuke.

  ‘They’re managing my pain – the drugs here are pretty good,’ he said with a feeble chuckle, a valiant attempt at light-hearted banter despite the suffocating tension filling the room.

  ‘Simon says he can’t remember using the website,’ Laura blurted like a dobbing child to a teacher, unable to tolerate the small talk.

  ‘I don’t remember anything like that, on my father’s grave,’ he said in a trembling voice, placing his hand on his heart. ‘I seriously do not remember,’ he said, glancing between Laura and Tara.