by Sue Lawson
“But it was real, wasn’t it?” Paul’s voice seems far away.
I nod. My chest is even more jammed up than it was before. I cough to dislodge the sensation, stretch my arms to the side and behind me, but that tight, heavy feeling won’t budge.
“Alex?” asks Paul. “Do you need me to call Dimity?”
I’m frowning so hard my forehead aches. “People on reality shows, the hospital ones, reckon they had a bad feeling on the day something horrible went down.” I look up at Paul. “But I didn’t. I felt hot. And lazy, you know?” I shake my head. “Yeah, hot and lazy. No premonition. It was just another day.”
The air presses against my shoulders. Paul watches with gentle eyes.
A huge yawn racks my body. When it passes, my head starts to throb. I rub my left temple.
Paul leans forwards. “You okay?”
I nod. “A headache.”
“Rest up, mate. I’ll drop back tomorrow.”
I lower the bed and close my eyes.
65
ALEX
I closed my eyes and stretched out on the family room sofa, listening to the ceiling fan struggling to move through the heavy air. The forecast was for thirty-nine degrees. Felt more like forty-eight and it hadn’t gone midday. Lucky for me, St James, and about every other private school nearby, had a pupil-free day for report writing. Being crammed into classrooms having to think in this heat would have been the worst.
The floor-to-ceiling windows leading onto the barbecue area and pool deck were folded right back, but the curtains hung limp. I opened my eyes, reached for the remote and flicked through TV stations. Cricket, a black-and-white movie, a current affairs show and endless repeats of American sitcoms. As I moved to go for a swim, Mia burst into the room, dragging a piece of butcher’s paper behind her.
“Alex, I painted us at playgroup, look.” She laid it on my lap. “That’s you.” She tapped the smaller of the two heads sprouting legs and arms. “See, you’re wearing your red boardies.” She pointed to the larger pink head. “And that’s me in my Barbie swimmers. We’re floating.”
“Cool painting, Mia.”
“I know,” she said, looking around. “It’s for you.”
Mum entered the kitchen and dumped supermarket bags on the bench.
Mia skipped to her. “Can I have my icy pole nooow, Mum?”
Mum rifled through the bags. “Sure. Alex – come put away the shopping.”
I sighed. “Why can’t Harvey or Ethan do it?”
Mum placed her hands palm down on the bench. “Don’t start with me, Alex. Harvey is getting his stuff together to take to Angelo’s place and Ethan is with your father, I believe. And it’s my turn to sell raffle tickets at the shopping centre and I’m late. Put this away and look after Mia.”
“Yeah, but me and Tilly–”
“Too bad, Alex. I need your help.”
“Mum, Tilly and I were going to a movie when she finishes work.”
Mum smiled. “Fine. Take Mia with you.”
“It’s not a film for little kids.”
“Then you’re not going, are you?” Mum ripped open the box of icy poles and handed one to Mia. “Be a good girl for Alex.” She kissed Mia on the head and ran her hands over her cheeks. “I’ll be home about six. I have my mobile.” Mum scooped up her keys. “You’re in charge, Alex.”
In the kitchen doorway she bellowed. “Harvey, if you want a ride to Angelo’s, I’m going now.”
Harvey thundered down the stairs, dragging his backpack behind him.
“See you later.” Mum left a cloud of busyness and perfume behind her.
Mia sat at the kitchen bench, eating her icy pole, while I unpacked the shopping. When I was done, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Tilly.
Mia tugged my boardies. “Can we go swimming, Alex?” Her lips were covered in blue icy pole.
A rumble of noise rolled in from the hallway. Girls’ giggles weaved through boys’ voices.
Ethan led Stav, Felicity, Ginny and other guys and girls I didn’t know into the family room. Some had towels tossed over their shoulders, others held cardboard boxes and bags filled with alcohol and junk food.
“Wow!” said a blond girl with a pierced nose. “This place is awesome.”
“Ginny’ll show you where to change.” Ethan patted his girlfriend’s bum. She giggled. I felt my lip curl.
“What’s up your arse?” asked Ethan, glaring.
“Alex and me are going swimming,” said Mia.
“Nah. You’re not. We’re chilling down here. And we don’t want to be disturbed.”
“But Mum said Alex is the boss.” Mia folded her arms across her chest.
Ethan snorted. “Tough luck for you, Mia. We’re having an ‘end of exams’ pool party.”
Outside, one of the guys cracked open a can of scotch and cola, which sprayed all over the outdoor setting. The others cheered.
“Did you check this with Mum or Dad?” I asked.
“They trust me.”
Mia stamped her foot. “But I want to swim!”
“Too bad. Go upstairs and watch a movie.”
Mia’s chin wobbled. I squatted so I was at her eye level. “We’ll go upstairs and watch anything you want and turn the aircon on high.”
“Too humid for that,” said Ethan.
“Shut up, smart-arse.” I snapped at him. “And, Mi, we’ll swim as soon as they’ve gone. I promise. Anyway, swimming will be more fun when it’s cooler.”
“Huddo,” called Stav from the pool fence. “How do you open the dumb gate?”
“Coming.” Ethan turned back to me. “Stay out of my face, Lexie boy.”
66
ROOM 302, NEUROSURGERY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL
After lunch, Brent takes me to the physio department on the first floor. The huge room with its wooden benches, crash mats, handrails and weights reminds me of a gym from one of those World War II movies.
“High-tech,” I say, leaning against a bench with ropes.
“The latest equipment. That baby is our new Pilates reformer.”
“Cool!” What else do you say to someone who is buzzed about a wooden bench with springs and black padding?
Brent rubs his hands together and we’re into it. After an hour of balancing and testing my hand and leg strength, Brent adds to my list of daily exercises and walks me back to the neurosurgery ward.
He stops at the nurses’ station. “You know, Alex, you’re very lucky. There doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage, not even to your arm.”
Maybe not, but it feels like I’ve done permanent damage in that gym. My ribs ache and my legs burn. Back in my room, Vicky is sitting by Mackie’s bed.
“Hello, Alex. How’s she been?” She nods at her daughter.
“Doesn’t shut up.”
Vicky smiles. “That’s how she used to be – talked nonstop. Even in her sleep.” She fusses around Mackie, applying lip balm and wiping her face. “Her lips aren’t as dry.”
My face feels hot. After that first time I applied the balm, I made sure I did it a couple of times a day, so Mackie would feel more comfortable.
“Thanks, Alex.” She turns back to Mackie.
I start flicking through the magazine that Paul left, but it’s impossible to block out what Vicky is saying.
“I can’t talk to him, Mack. He’s completely off the rails. Again.”
I think of the stuff I’d read in Mackie’s scrapbook. Not the page headed “Reasons to be happy” which was filled with random words like sunshine, sparrows, beach, shells, rain on the roof, my rabbits, but the page with another of Mackie’s lists. This didn’t have sketches or squiggles, just words.
REASONS TO KEEP FIGHTING:
* Mum.
* Dad.
* Tim.
* Ash.
* If I’m not here, who will cook meals, keep the house tidy and do the washing when Mum and Tim are at work?
* Who will make sure Mum doesn’t find
out about the stupid things Ash has done like stealing DVDs, wagging school and stuff?
* Who will lie to the school to cover for the dumb things Ash keeps doing?
* Who will listen to Dad and make sure he’s taking his tablets? Ring him each night and check he’s okay. Still alive?
* Who will hold everyone together?
When I was reading it, I wondered if Mackie was exaggerating, but listening to Vicky, it’s obvious. Mackie believes her family can’t survive without her. And by the sounds of it, she is right.
I need space. Even though my legs feel like they’ve been filled with wet cement, I slip on my thongs and head for the hall. Usually, when I walk past the TV room, people wearing dressing gowns and blank expressions are watching television. The colours from the screen throw eerie shadows over their faces. Today, even though the television is blaring, the room is empty. I settle on the lumpy sofa and stare at the screen.
An advertisement for a pool company fills the screen. My vision blurs and a different scene plays in my head.
67
ALEX
The air conditioner hummed and the ceiling fan beat the rumpus room’s cloying air. Mia lay on her stomach across the beanbag, watching Shrek 3 for the seven billionth time. Outside, the laughter, music and splashes had grown louder. Sounded more like fifty of Ethan’s mates out there, not the ten or so who’d arrived an hour ago. I couldn’t be stuffed moving, not even to message Tilly. My phone sat beside me, where I’d left it after Tilly cracked it when I told her I couldn’t make the movies. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true; she didn’t crack it until I said she couldn’t come round for a swim. She thought that was about her, when really I didn’t want her near Ethan and his mates.
A scream followed by a huge splash came from the pool area. Mia ran to the window and lifted the blind to peek outside. “Mum’s gonna be mad.”
“Big mess, Mi?”
“Yep. Cans and rubbish everywhere. And they’re smoking.”
“Yeah, I know.” It wasn’t only cigarette smoke wafting through the house. I reached for my phone, almost tasting the satisfaction of Mum and Dad’s horror when they arrived home to see how their perfect son behaved when they weren’t around.
Mia squealed and clapped. “They’re leaving, Alex.” She dropped the blind against the windowsill and jumped onto my stomach.
I grunted. “Easy, Mi.”
She held my face in her chubby hands. “We can swim now, Alex. Come on.”
My phone rang. Tilly’s face flashed on the screen. “Wait. I have to talk to Tilly. Then we’ll swim. I promise.”
Mia’s bottom lip poked out.
“Honest, Mia.” I scooped her off my guts and picked up the phone.
“Okay – but you promised.” She skipped from the room as I pressed the accept button.
68
TV ROOM, NEUROSURGERY WARD, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL.
“Alex? Are you okay?” Mum stands in the TV room doorway. “You’re very pale.”
My heart is galloping and my skin is clammy. I can feel the warmth of Mia’s touch on my face. I try to rip myself out of the memory.
“Alex?” Mum hovers beside me, her face creased with worry.
“Don’t fuss, Mum. I’m fine.”
Mum slips her hand around my waist and helps me stand. We walk back to my room, where Vicky is holding her phone up to Mackie’s face, maybe showing her photos.
Mum settles me on the bed and fluffs the pillows behind my shoulders and head. “Where do you want these?” she asks, holding my thongs.
“Under the cabinet.”
“Should I call a nurse?”
“What’s the deal with the concerned mother routine?”
She bites her bottom lip.
“Sorry,” I clench and open my right hand.
As Mum inhales, her breath hitches in her throat. “I need to ask you something, Alex.”
My heart flutters. If she says Mia, I swear I’ll punch something. Maybe even her. Not once since Mia died has Mum tried to talk to me about what happened. “What?”
“About you. The accident.” She stretches the word accident as though it’s a toffee. “How did it happen, Alex?”
The wound on my head itches. “Mr Dobson says I might never remember.”
“I know what he says. But I need to hear what you remember. From the moment you left home.”
The muscles in my forehead and around my eyes ache.
“Why did you go to the city, Alex? Why’d you leave your phone on the bed?”
I try to grasp what she is hinting at, but it’s hard to hold, like spiders’ silk. “What are you asking?”
“I have to know, Alex. I need to know what was going on in your head before.” She scratches her neck. Her nails leave red marks. She looks into my eyes. “Alex, did you mean it?”
“What?”
Mum places her hand on my forearm. Her skin is cool and smooth. “Your father thinks you meant it. That you …”
I pull away from her. A jagged pain spreads through my right side. “And if Dad says it, it must be true.”
Head bowed, she spins her wedding ring round and round her finger.
“Jesus.” The word rushes out with my breath. “What the hell makes him think that?”
“Oh, Alex, you’ve been so …” she looks past me searching for the word, “… distant. Withdrawn.”
“Yeah, the concern has been overwhelming.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not, but it’s true.”
Mum bites her bottom lip.
I feel awful. I’m not the only one hurting over Mia. “Is that why Dad doesn’t visit. Or Harvey and Ethan? Because Dad thinks I tried to top myself?”
“Your father …” She screws up her face. “He’s worried that–”
“I’ll influence them. Turn them into nut jobs like me.”
Mum’s head snaps up. But she can’t make eye contact. “No! That’s not true.”
“Did he stop my friends from coming too?”
“Alex, let it go.”
“Has he stopped my friends – Benny? Smurf? Bart?”
“He told people the doctor said you weren’t up to having visitors.”
My laughter is bitter. “Because imagine if anyone found out the great Dylan Hudson’s son tried to kill himself.”
Mum is back to spinning her ring. “Alex.”
“Does he even know you come here?”
A fat tear rolls down Mum’s cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think I could bear it if he’s right. If you really had tried to …” Her words are swallowed by a sob.
“Since when has he ever been right about me?” I try to sound surer than I feel. The truth is, I don’t know why I went to the city that day. I was just trying to keep ahead of the pain.
Mum rummages in her bag for a tissue. “The surfing, Alex. Being a lifeguard. Is that what you really want?”
“I don’t make stuff up to annoy everyone, you know, despite what Dad thinks. It’s what I really want.”
“Then we’ll make it happen, Alex.”
69
ROOM 302, NEUROSURGERY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL
I’m standing naked and alone on a building ledge. Below me, cars the size of Christmas beetles scatter in all directions. I blink and the traffic is gone. I’m still naked and standing on the edge, but now it’s a cliff face, not a building ledge. Below me is endless black, as calm as still water.
A howl like nothing I’ve never heard before shatters the stillness.
Arms flail. Feet slip.
I’m stumbling, splashing, duck-diving.
Dragging, grasping, struggling.
Another howl.
Someone, something is in unbearable pain.
I gasp and sit up, staring around the darkened room. The top sheet is tangled around my waist and leg. My body is drenched in sweat.
“Alex, are you okay?” The yellow light of a torch shines in my face. “You were
yelling.”
It’s Jenny.
I can’t find any words.
“Alex?” She presses two fingers against my wrist. “Your heart is racing. Are you in pain?”
I shake my head. The movement sets my body shaking.
“Dream.” My mouth is so dry my tongue crackles.
Jenny hands me a glass of water and stands beside me while I drink. “Want to talk about it?”
Do I? “I’m okay.”
Jenny feels my back. “You’re drenched, Alex. Where are your clean PJs?”
I nod at the bottom drawer of the cabinet.
She pulls out a T-shirt and pyjama pants. “Go freshen up while I change your sheets.”
When I return from the bathroom, the crumpled sheets have been replaced and the bedspread is folded back.
I’m sliding between the cool sheets when Jenny returns, holding a mug. “Thought a milo might help you go back to sleep.”
The warm liquid seeps into my veins. My muscles soften.
“Are you hungry? There are sandwiches in the fridge.”
“I’m fine.”
Jenny rests her elbow on the back of the chair. “Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
I stare across the room at the lump that is Mackie. “Sucks, doesn’t it.”
Jenny follows my gaze. “I’ve nursed Mackie a couple of times. She’s a gorgeous girl.”
“Vicky thinks she’ll be going home.”
A shadow crosses Jenny’s face. “What do you think?”
I mentally flick through the pages of Mackie’s scrapbook. “I don’t think so.”
The sound of a buzzer fills the air. “That will be Mrs Erikson in room four.” Jenny sighs. “Sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Buzz if you need me.”
“Thanks, Jenny.” I take another sip of milo. This time the sweetness turns my stomach. I place the mug on the bedside cabinet and wriggle down until I’m lying flat.