Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  I look around at the hurricane that was yesterday. When I sat down to write, I blocked everything out. It was liberating. Another four thousand words to add to the count, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

  I snuggle on the couch and dial Sam’s number. It rings out and goes to voicemail.

  “Hey Sam, just got home. Been thinking about you all day. Miss you. Give me a call. Mwah.” My phone is in my hand for a few minutes as I scroll through my Facebook feed, but he doesn’t call back.

  I contact Kim and have a chat about Ed. When I tell her that Sam’s moving back to Willow Creek, she promises to take good care of the dog until Sam returns. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I tell him he’ll get his precious Ed back.

  After dinner, I strip my bed, even though I hate the thought of washing the dreamy scent of Sam’s aftershave from my sheets. Once I’ve tidied up the house, I join Butch on the couch.

  I scoop up my phone and can’t believe it’s already ten o’clock. And no response from Sam. Disappointment floods my veins. I just wanted to hear his voice, if only for a few minutes. Saying goodbye to him yesterday hurt my heart. I decide to send him a quick text because it’s too late to call.

  Me: Sorry, you’re probably asleep. Give me a call tomorrow xxx

  I make myself a hot chocolate and sit down at my laptop. Butch curls on my lap, keeping me warm as the words flow once more. Before I know it, I’m in the early hours of Tuesday.

  ***

  I don’t hear from Sam all the next day. When I get home, calling Sam is the first thing I do.

  It rings out. I ring again.

  “Janie,” a croaky voice finally answers. He doesn’t sound so great.

  “Finally,” I blurt out. “Shit, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Nah, just got out of the shower,” he says, his voice slow and lethargic. “Sorry I didn’t call. Slept most of today. Trying to sleep off this cold that hit me when we got home.”

  My heart beats faster. Is he sick because I kept him out at the dance? “Are you okay? Is Ben looking after you?”

  A series of muffled coughs sound through the phone. “Yeah. Big brother’s on it.” Sniff. “He’s being all kind and shit.” Cheeky bugger.

  “Good.” I breathe out until my lungs are empty. “You know if you didn’t live so bloody far away I’d bring you some homemade pumpkin soup. Help you through it.”

  Sam laughs and coughs at the same time. “I gotta go, babe. My throat is killing me.” Cough. Cough. Cough.

  “Okay, well, love you. Mwah.”

  “Love you too. I’ll call you when I can talk.”

  “Lots of vitamin C, water, and rest. Okay?”

  “Yup,” he says and clears his throat. “Happy writing.”

  Later in the evening when my fingers are bashing the keyboard, my phone dings with a text.

  Sam: BTW, seeing the neurologist in two weeks :p

  It dings again as I’m reading it.

  Sam: You’ll never guess what Ben made for dinner …

  I text him back.

  Me: Great news. What was on the menu?

  Sam: Fucking pumpkin soup

  I burst out with laughter until tears form in my eyes. God, I love this so much. I rattle off a reply.

  Me: He is so KIND

  Sam: Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.

  ***

  As much as I’ve missed talking to Sam during the last few days, I feel like I’ve come leaps and bounds with life. Yesterday, the rhythmic gymnastics group from Willow Creek Primary School performed for the residents and it was a big hit; both young and old enjoyed themselves. Today, which is now known as Plant Therapy Thursday, I planted bulbs with Mrs Lee and Shirley in the new planter boxes I had the maintenance contractors set up in the courtyard. It’s been beautiful to watch on as the friendship between these two women blossoms. Add to that, come spring, thanks to their efforts, the courtyard will be bursting with colour.

  As the sun creeps behind the mountains, I pour myself a glass of red, grab a warm blanket and my phone, and take a seat on the porch with my sidekick.

  I savour each mouthful of the wine as I stare at the oranges and pinks poking out between smatterings of cloud. Butch nuzzles into my side and flops his head on my lap.

  “Won’t be long and Sammy will be sitting here with us,” I say in an excitable voice.

  Butch’s tail whips against the back of the chair and he whines.

  “How ’bout we call him now, boy?”

  I dial Sam’s number and wait patiently for him to answer. He doesn’t. I try again. No luck. Rather than leave a voicemail, I send him a text.

  Me: I’m betting the soup did the trick and you and Ben are on the couch cheering on the Panthers. Give me a call when you can x

  I scratch the top of Butch’s head, stand, and usher him inside. “Come on. Guess we’d better eat.”

  ***

  A shrill sound pierces the quiet of the night, jolting me out of a deep sleep. I fumble for the glowing screen on my bedside table and swipe the bottom of it.

  “Hello?” I say and clear my throat. I pull the phone quickly from my ear to confirm that Ben has called.

  “Jane, hey,” Ben says, a hum of voices competing with his.

  I sit bolt upright. “Ben. What time is it?” I rub at my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry to call you so late. I know you were trying to get a hold of Sam.” Ben shuffles the phone. The noise in the background fades. “Sorry, I just had to come outside. Listen, I’ve brought Sam to the hospital.”

  My heart kicks in my chest. “What?” I croak out. “What happened?”

  “Sam told me to tell you not to panic, and that he’s fine.”

  “But he’s in the hospital,” I blurt out as I turn on my lamp. “People who are fine don’t go to the hospital.”

  “If a healthy person came down with a cold, they wouldn’t need to be here, but team that with a shot immune system like Sam’s and … ” Ben sighs. “I brought him in as a precaution. Had to drag him here, though.”

  “Well, thank you. Are you sure it’s just a precaution?”

  “Just getting him checked out. The doctor’s assessing him now. With any luck we’ll be sent home in a few hours with some strong antibiotics.”

  My shoulders slump as I exhale. Cease panicking. Sam will only give me shit anyway. I need to show him that I can be an adult about this. If Sam says he’s fine and Ben is taking him purely as a precaution, I need to relax. “Can you get Sam to text me later?”

  “His phone’s flat, and I forgot to bring a charger to the hospital. I’ll try and track one down and will update you when I can.”

  “Good. Thanks. Remind him to be kind to the nurses, ’kay?”

  Ben chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ben is my only chance of getting a message to Sam. Even though what I’d like to say is far from PG, I tone it down. “Um, Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell him I love him, ’kay?”

  “No probs. Will do.”

  “If you need anything, let me know.”

  Sleep doesn’t come until the early hours of the morning. Not when images of Sam in a hospital bed surrounded by four white walls is front of mind.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I consider myself a patient person. Today, I’m far from it. After not hearing from either of the Marshall brothers by ten a.m., I start making calls.

  I leave three messages on Ben’s mobile, and send two texts to Sam. I google hospitals within a thirty-kilometre radius of Sam’s place, and start dialling. Much to my annoyance, no one will give out patient details unless I’m a family member.

  Just after eleven, my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognise but I answer it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s Ben.”

  Thank God. “I’ve been sweating on your call,” I say on an exhale.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been hectic here, and my phone died.”

  Bl
oody technology. “How is he?”

  “I’ll be honest—He has some fluid in his lungs, maybe from spending too much time on his back while he’s been sick. It’s possible he could have pneumonia.”

  What? “Pneumonia?” I squeak. “I thought only old people got that.”

  “Yeah, well his immune system is struggling to fight it, but we’re looking at other forms of treatment because of the GBS.”

  I clench my teeth as my heart aches for Sam. He’s faced so many battles since he was diagnosed with GBS, and a simple cold has flattened him. “Do you want me to come up there? I can leave work early?”

  “I’d hate for you to drop everything and by the time you get here have him be on the mend. They expect that within twenty-four hours he’ll be feeling better. If there are any changes, I’ll let you know.” Ben sighs. “I’m heading home shortly to get some clothes and stuff, and I’ll grab my charger so you can reach me.”

  “Which hospital are you at?”

  “Nepean. It’s not far from our place.”

  “Okay.” What do I do here? Do I leave work and drive up there?

  “You still there, Jane?” Ben asks.

  “Um, yeah, sorry. Just working out what to do.”

  “Sit tight, okay? I’ll give you a call in the morning. I’m sure he’ll be on his way to being his usually pain-in-the-arse-self by then.”’

  I chuckle softly, but it’s short-lived. “Okay. Tell him I love him, ’kay?”

  “No probs.”

  “Actually, no. Scratch that. Tell him he’s my everything.”

  Ben clears his throat. “Will do.”

  ***

  The rest of my workday is spent organising stock for another scrapbooking session, and searching for recipes for another cooking class. When I’m ready to go home, I update Kathleen on Sam’s status. She’s understanding as always, and says if I need to take leave, she can cover our planned activities and will take on Butch as a temporary houseguest. It goes without saying that I adore my boss.

  I spend the evening at my laptop, writing. My fingers plug away at the keyboard as I describe the reunion between Sam and Ed, and our visit to the falls. Occasionally happy tears blur my vision when I think about how far Sam has come, how each day he opened up to me, revealing his life before GBS and giving me more pieces of the Sam Marshall puzzle.

  At eleven o’clock that night, I call Ben. As it rings, I wonder when he’s getting sleep. Is he camping at the hospital or going home for a few hours of shut-eye when he can? Maybe I should go up there and we can take shifts. That way someone is always with Sam.

  “Hey, Jane,” he croaks. There’s a little background noise, but not as much as earlier today.

  “Hi, Ben. Are you at the hospital?”

  “Yeah, still here.”

  “Are you with Sam? Can he talk?”

  “He’s sleeping right now.”

  A giant yawn rumbles from my mouth. “I’m going to drive up.”

  “Jane, the drive at night’s too dangerous. Too many ’roos on the road. Sam wouldn’t want you to, and besides, you sound tired.”

  I clear my throat to try and sound more put-together. “Yeah, maybe, but I’m only going to be lying in bed thinking about him.”

  “Get some sleep, and I’ll call you in the morning once the doctor has done his rounds.”

  “Are you sure? I feel so helpless here.”

  “There’s nothing you can do, Jane. Sleep is the best thing for him. And for you, by the sounds of it.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning, then.”

  “Will do. Sleep tight, Jane.”

  “You too, Ben.”

  ***

  The sun is up before I know it. Somehow, I slept like a log. If logs slept.

  I shower, get dressed, and take Butch for a walk up the road to Kathleen’s house with dog food and his dishes in a bag. Regardless of Sam’s condition, I’m going up there today.

  As I finish packing a bag with spare clothes and toiletries, my phone rings in my back jeans pocket.

  “Ben,” I breathe into the phone. “How is he?”

  “Hey, babe,” a voice I barely recognise barks.

  Something between a sob and a laugh erupts from my mouth. “Sam. W-what the hell?”

  “I blame the soup,” he says in a gravelly voice.

  Tears spring to my eyes as laughter bursts from my mouth. “That’s not even funny. Leave the pumpkins alone. Anyway, tell me what’s going on. I’m coming up there. I’m packing now.”

  “Are you panicking?”

  God, it bugs me when he says that. “Um, yes. You happy?”

  A series of coughs fills the line. “Don’t stress.”

  “I’m trying not to. I’ll be less panicked when I see you. Anyway, I have good news?” Hearing about the future with Ed will definitely lift his spirits.

  Cough, cough, cough. “Cool. Love you. See ya later.”

  Did he not hear what I said about news?

  I shake it off. He needs to rest, and I’d rather tell him in person anyway. “Love you too.”

  The phone is shuffled around. “Jane?”

  “Hi, Ben.”

  “Just give me a sec. I’ll leave the room.” About ten seconds later, he says, “You there?”

  “Yep. Sam’s cough is awful, but he sounds like he’s in good spirits.”

  Ben clears his throat. “It’s not good, Jane,” he says in a wavering voice. “Not good at all.”

  My heart jolts. “What do you mean?”

  “Sam told me that he’s had tingling in his hands and feet for the last week, but instead of talking to me about it, he figured it was nothing. Unfortunately, while he’s been fighting this cold the numbness has spread to his arms and legs. Maybe his torso.”

  “Oh, God,” I groan, and fist the neck of my shirt.

  “GBS has returned, but it’s morphed into a chronic form of CIDP. They’ve been giving him IVIG through a drip, to try and stop the attack on his nerves and boost his antibodies, but he’s not responding the way they expected him to.”

  I snatch up my keys and head for the door. I remember reading something about that other term, but don’t focus on it. “What does that mean, Ben? C-I-D-P?”

  The silence that follows is deafening.

  “Ben?”

  “It means we have a bigger fight on our hands, Jane. The doctors are trying to stop Sam’s body from fighting itself.”

  My heart takes a dive into my stomach. I swallow down the rising bile. “I’m on my way. Text me his room number.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  An hour into my journey, the heavens open. With so much water on the road, and poor visibility, I’m forced to slow down to seventy kilometres on the highway.

  After another two hours of driving at what feels like a snail’s pace, the car begins to make a dull flapping sound. The steering pulls to the right.

  Oh no. It’s not, is it?

  I slow down and turn in to the next street on the left. The flapping noise continues. When it’s safe to stop, I put the car in neutral and yank on the handbrake. I open the door wide enough to stick my umbrella out and extend it. After a walk around the car, and dodging giant puddles, I find a flat tyre.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” I scramble back into the car and contemplate my options. I could ring Ben—I’m only half an hour or so away—but he needs to be with Sam. After a minute of staring at the swishing windscreen wipers, I decide to call Dad. This’ll be a fun call.

  “How’s my beautiful girl?” he says, and makes a kissing sound.

  “Hey Dad. Um, currently she’s stranded on the side of the road on the way to Sydney with a flat tyre.”

  He lets out a mammoth sigh. “Oh, bugger. Are you alone?”

  “Yeah, but I’m good. I can do this—it’s just been a while since you taught me. Can you run me through it?”

  “Why don’t you ring the NRMA? They should get to you pretty quick. That’s what you pay membership for.”
<
br />   He’s gonna hate me. “Um, because I didn’t organise the roadside assist package?”

  “Oh, lord. Seriously, Jane? What did I tell you before we left?”

  “But I don’t go anywhere!” I say in a raised voice. “Well, now I do, because Sam is in Sydney—”

  “Who’s this Sam fella?”

  “My boyfriend. I was going to talk to you and Mum about him, but things have been pretty crazy.”

  “Well, you can catch us up on your new lover later.”

  “Urgh, Dad! Don’t say it like that.”

  “What? Are you not lovers?”

  I can’t have this conversation with him. Now or later. “Dad,” I growl in warning.

  “Okay, okay. Keep your knickers on. For a start, are your hazard lights on?”

  I press the red triangle button on my dash. “Yes.”

  “Alrighty then. First, undo the wheel nuts with the wheel brace and then get the jack out. You might have to assemble the handle. Position the jack under the axle and wind it until it’s high enough to just bring the tyre off the ground. Then take it off, put your spare on, and make sure you do the wheel nuts up nice and tight. Got it?”

  I let out a deep breath. I can do it, but I know I’ll get drenched. “Yep. Got it. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Now, as soon as you get home, get the flat fixed or replaced, and ring the bloody NRMA and sort out your membership.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I say in an apologetic tone. “Thank you.”

  “Ring me back if you need to. In fact, ring me or text me and let me know when you’re back on the road.”

  “I will.”

  ***

  A lifetime later, I arrive at Nepean Hospital. Drenched. Stressed. Exhausted.

  I find the nearest ladies’ room and change into a pair of leggings and a grey knitted jumper. After attempting to blow-dry my hair a bit with the hand-dryer, I toss my locks up into a bun. Unfortunately, I have to put my cold, damp boots back on because I didn’t bring a spare pair.

  I make my way to ward number ten and front up at the nurses’ station.