Chapter Six

 

 

“Wait here. Sit. Roxie, get your head back inside the cab so I can put the window up.” This dog’s ears are painted on, I’m convinced. She doesn’t listen to a word I say. Leaning over the pulled handbrake, I take her small head into the palm of my hand and shift her back inside the vehicle before taking her under her front legs and reefing her onto my lap. Running my hand through her recently washed hair, I look at those big eyes and say, “If you’re going to live a life of luxury, you’re going to have to learn to take instructions.”

She cocks her head and widens her gaze.

“Stay here. Five minutes, tops. I’ll leave the air-conditioning going.”

She whines.

“Why are you so needy?”

She whines again, laying her head down on my lap, turning those brown eyes upwards.

“Fine. You can come with me. Only because I want you to, not because you want to.”

Bloody dog.

Turning off the ignition, I push the door and allow Roxie to run up the stairs in front of me.

“Fin. You’re still driving the lease car. When is the old tilly coming home?”

Tessa.

“Afternoon, Ms Simon.” I smile, stepping back a couple of steps and peering up at her window.

“Stop calling me Ms Simon. I know you only do it to annoy me.”

I flash her my best shit-eating grin.

“Busy day?”

“You could say this. Anything to report on neighbourhood watch?”

“No. It’s quiet today.” Her husky tone seems disappointed. It’s lacking its usual excitement.

I wasn’t going to do this now, but her lack of happiness forces my hand. “Hey, do me a favour, will you?”

“For you? Anything.”

“Go throw a bag together. Grab just enough for a few days. Make sure you pack all your medications and shit as well.”

“What?” Her head launches backwards.

“You heard me, you old bag. Go get some of your crap. I’ll be up shortly.”

Her head throws back even farther. “What for?”

“Can you just go do it? I’m on a schedule.”

“Why?”

“Tess. Please.” I clear my throat.

“Oh … well … okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she mumbles.

“Roxie, come on.” Roxie doesn’t come. It’s not surprising. “Rox.” My tone is more dominant this time. Still nothing.

“She’s in the trash on the footpath.” Tessa laughs dryly.

“Yeah,” I groan, before shouting, “Get out of the trash, you little shit, and get inside.”

Finally, she races past me in a hurry. This dog will be my undoing.

I pack the possessions I want to take from this shithole in garbage bags. Everything else can burn for all I care. I could have bought nice things with some of the money I won and furnished this place when the cheque cleared, but what would have been the point? It would’ve been stolen the very next day. No amount of locks, bolts or alarms would’ve kept the crims out. Two bags is what I fill to hold the contents of my entire life. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a seriously depressing thing. No point pondering it, though.

Taking the internal cemented staircase for the first time since I moved in here six years ago, a shiver runs the length of my spine. I hate this dump.

“Tess. You ready?” I yell, simultaneously banging against the split wooden door. “Tess.”

The door opens a fraction. “Where are we going?” One blue eye and half of her face is all I see through the small gap, yet it’s still enough for me to notice the worry imprinted in her expression.

“You’ll see.” I try to offer a reassuring smile, yet I believe it didn’t come off as intended, mainly because Tess closes the door with a hard closing.

“Tess.”

“Finlay, please leave.”

“Nope. I’ll stand here all day if need be. You’re coming with me.”

“Where?” she shouts.

“Out of this dump. You deserve a castle to live in, not a shoe. Get your shit together so we can go already.”

The door opens once more, a little wider this time, but still not even halfway. “This is my home, Fin. It’s all I’ve known for a—”

“It’s a rat-infested, disease-carrying dump, and after what you did for me in life, I owe you. Let me repay you. I’m moving, Tess. I want you to move with me.”

“I didn’t do…” Tessa pauses. “I want nothing in return, Finlay.”

“I know. Woman, can you just open the door so I can come in?” It takes a few minutes, and I don’t lose my temper, surprisingly. Instead, I wait patiently, looking through the crack at an old woman who has bigger balls than me, yet is still a human capable of fear. Who knew leaving here would be her kryptonite?

“Fine,” she mutters, dropping her arm away from the doorframe.

“I can come in?”

“If it makes you happy.” She fakes complete disinterest.

Not once have I ever stepped foot into Tessa’s flat, but with one light press against the wood, I’m shown her space for the very first time. For a dump, she’s created something pretty. It’s clean, organised, and decorative. “Nice.”

“You make do with what you have.” Her voice is strained, and I’m curious as to why her back is still turned.

“Tess?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

I hear her sobs. They grow louder almost instantly, and then her shoulders shake from the coughing that follows.

“Hey!” Wrapping my hand around her frail arm, I attempt to offer her comfort, but she’s quick to shrug me off.

“My suitcase is on my bed. I’d like to take the plant from the kitchen windowsill, too. Will I be able to have the rest of my stuff in this castle of yours?”

“Sure. The bedroom alone will fit all of this in there.”

“Shit,” she croaks, turning to face me before taking a handkerchief from the pocket located on the side of the flowery dress she’s wearing. She delicately dabs at either eye.

“You need somewhere nice to die, Tessa. Not here. You don’t deserve to leave the Earth here, after all you’ve done for so many people.”

“Pfft. Stop your nonsense and get my plant and bag, will you?”

“Done.” I offer a smile, and in turn she hitches her top lip only briefly.

It’s a sombre walk down the stairs for Tessa, as she clutches the handrail and I take control of the oxygen tank on wheels following behind. She doesn’t speak another word the entire way to the ute.

Throwing her bag into the tray, I help her into the passenger seat and pass Tessa the small pot plant she so eagerly needed.

“Roxie, you’re in back,” I command, opening the back door. Roxie leaps in without further instruction to do so. Now that’s surprising. Damn dog never listens.

“Right, you two. I’m going to start the car, then go and grab my stuff. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” I roll my eyes to emphasise the fact these two are stubborn to boot and a serious thorn in my arse when it comes to taking any form of instruction from me.

Tessa only nods.

Roxie, on the other hand, hops into the driver’s seat and curls into a ball.

“Be right back.”

The two garbage bags and two photo frames is what I leave with. There’s nothing else of value worth keeping in the place I’ve called home since the day I came to fall off the rails and almost got myself killed for it.

Securing the cover onto the tray, I stand by the driver’s door and as I drop my head to look through the window, I say, “Scoot, Rox. You can’t drive.” I was expecting her to be sitting there. She’s not.

“She’s out of your way,” Tess whispers.

So she is, curled up on Tessa’s lap beside the pot plant she’s still holding.

“Okay. Ready?” I exhale, twisting the key in the ignition before glancing at Tess.

She only nods.

I love Tessa, more than anything in this world. She’s the only reason I’ve managed to stay away from a life behind unbendable bars and a demise that comes with rotting away in a boxed jail cell. I owe her more than I’ll ever be able to provide. She’s aged poorly. A simple glance highlights her tough existence and the years she’s battled.

Placing my hands on top of my head, I take a moment to just breathe. I wasn’t planning to do this here and now, but witnessing the scared expression Tessa is sporting makes me sick to my stomach.

“Hey, Tessa.”

She rotates her head in my direction with a blank stare.

“I have something for you.”

She says nothing.

Reaching into the pocket of the button-up shirt I’m wearing, I remove an opal hair comb once belonging to her, many years ago now, a hair piece I had no idea was even in my place at all until I was packing it up. “I think you should wear this today.” I unfold my fingers to reveal the comb perched in the middle of my palm and as I watch, she drops her eyes in its direction.

It’s an over-dramatic gasp, followed by an immediate cough that has Tessa readjusting the prongs leading into her nose from the oxygen tank sitting between her legs. I wasn’t expecting such a reaction.

“Can I?” I point to her hair.

“Yes.” It’s all but a hush.

Outstretching my arm, I run my hand gently up the side of her grey wispy hair to press down the fly-aways before sliding the spikes of the comb into her locks just above her ear. “I always loved this pin, Tess. I had no idea I even had it.”

“I knew you did. It’s been missing for a long time.” It’s only a quick arch of her upper lip that stays long enough for me to see her attempt at a smile.

I sit, studying Tessa’s deep lines and excessive wrinkles far too long.

She croaks, “Eyes go on the road, Fin, when setting out to drive. Not me.”

“Right,” I respond with a chuckle.

Driving out from the gutter, I announce we have one stop to make before we head to our final destination of the day.

Tessa cocks an eyebrow, but remains quiet.

The drive is silent, and even though many times I think to turn some music on to encroach the muted environment, I don’t. I instead think back to the hair comb I found in my place today. When did I take this? Why didn’t Tessa say anything about it missing? She used to wear it all the time.

This driveway is something I’ve seen too frequently in the last few months. Of course, I’m lapping the parking lot with a desire to find a place to pull into. Bloody hospitals, they never have adequate availability for visitors. After more laps than I care to count, I drive down a small incline and stop in one of the five-minute pick-up bays by the entrance … and even that is still a distance from where I need to enter.

“I have something I need to do. I won’t be too long. Tess, act sick or something while I’m gone so if security comes past they won’t marshal someone to issue me a fine for stopping here for too long. I’ll be longer than five minutes.”

Tessa twists her neck and performs one hell of a dramatic eye roll, pointing at the tubes shoved into the opening of her nose.

“Yeah. That will do it.” I smirk. “Righto, sit tight.” Climbing out, I make my way to the front of the Landcrusier, tapping the hood gently in passing. “Be right back,” I mouth as I turn and jog towards the automatic doors.

There’s a help desk just inside the annex, and I approach with a slight hesitation. Two people stand waiting in front. Glancing at my watch, I note the time is now twelve-thirty, and I have about an hour to make my way to the new house. I’d like to give the deliverymen a hand with moving in the new furnishings. Extra hands never go astray, and I want to be set up before the night’s out.

“Next,” the lady sitting behind the desk calls in a rather disgruntled tone.

A middle-aged woman at the front of the line finally makes her escape from the geezer I spotted standing much too close for comfort behind her.

Tapping my foot impatiently against the thin carpeting, I scan the wall covered with posters behind the counter. There are ones expressing chest pain is bad and if you’re having it, to report immediately to Accident and Emergency. This seems to be something common sense alone would explain. A purple-coloured snot-nose germ is on the poster beside it, and in big letters it reads, ‘Have you been out of the country? High fever and constant coughing means you should seek medical attention immediately.’ Common sense again if you ask me. Moving onto a poster about breastfeeding, I hear the voice from behind the counter again instruct, “Next.” This one’s for me. Where did Mr Too Close For Comfort go?

“Hey. I’m looking for someone.” I offer her a polite smile.

“Patient’s name, please?”

“Oh. No. It’s not a patient … It’s a staff member. A nurse, to be exact.”

“Full name.” She doesn’t even afford me eye contact.

“Lesley.”

“Last name.”

“No clue.”

Taking her eyes from the computer screen has her shifting them in my direction. “Do you know what ward she works on?” Pink lipstick spots her front coffee-stained teeth.

“Emergency department when I came in a couple of months ago. She’s about yay high …” Holding my hand level with my nipple, I attempt to give an accurate measurement.

Thick overgrown eyebrows lift high on the information clerk’s forehead.

“Look. She’s got blond hair. Tiny thing, and she never shuts up. Super chatty.”

The attendant scrunches her face before smiling. “Lesley Carter. Sure. I’ll see if she’s on.”

“Thanks.”

Clicking the mouse over and over, she mumbles. I don’t understand a word of what she’s saying, though. “Second floor. She’s in paediatrics today. She’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, our Lesley. I’ll let the ward know you are here.”

Holding my hand in the universal sign for stop, I swiftly bellow, “No.” It’s much louder than I intended. “Sorry, shit, sorry. No, it will be okay. I’ll go find her. It’s just … I have something I need to give her.”

“Okay,” she mouths.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day,” the attendant says dryly. Her focus shifts from me back to the computer monitor. I don’t get a chance to respond when she calls, “Next.”

“Right. Yes,” I say, turning awkwardly and heading in the direction of the lifts.

Ting!

“Level two. Please stand clear of the opening doors.”

The pre-programmed message I find surprisingly calming instructs.

Stepping out from the lift, I immediately see a sign reading ‘Paediatrics’.

Green, purple, blue, and pink handprints are plastered in stickers covering glass panels making up the inside of two blue doors. There’s a printed sign stuck on the glass between these handprints, and it says, ‘Please use the hand sanitiser located on the wall on your left before entering the paediatric unit. Hygiene is our policy.’ I follow this instruction before pushing open one of the blue doors and entering.

A bustling nurses’ station is immediately in my line of sight, and without even having to search for the chatty nurse I’ve come to see, I find myself standing a metre away from her. She’s stopped, looking down at a folder in the middle of the corridor on the incorrect side of the desk.

Taking two steps closer, I hear her mumbling away to herself. Lesley appears to be rather chipper, just as she’s been every time I’ve been in her presence—I think it’s just who she is. Another two steps has me close enough to reach out and tap her shoulder, but not close enough that I’m invading her personal space.

“Six millilitres of Panadol, and flush the drip on bed seven. Bed eight is needing a pressure sore lanced … Great, this should smell good, not—”

“Lancing? What is lancing?” I interrupt her solitary conversation, hoping not to startle her.

Twisting on her heel, she continues with, “Well, it’s when you …” She halts and then smiles as our eyes connect. “Oh, if it isn’t Captain America.”

“Captain America?”

“Sure. You know, jumping off buildings, running towards cars engulfed with fire with a desire to put his body on the line for a cinematic explosion of epic proportions.” She arches a perfect eyebrow at me.

“I’ve never jumped off a building. I’m not crazy.”

She giggles.

“What brings you to the paeds ward? Actually, let me guess.” Tapping a pen she’s holding in her hand against her chin, she flutters her eyelashes and sighs. “You are also Father of the Year, right?” The wiggling of her eyebrows following is completely unnecessary.

Pointing my finger in her direction, I chuckle before firmly replying with a “No.”

Her two hands plant on her chest with her pen still held between her fingers. “Damn. That would have been an amazing inclusion in your life’s novel.” She portrays what I believe is disappointment with a simple relaxation of her expression and closing of her eyes.

“Women. Dramatic.”

“Men. Annoying.” She giggles.

“Whatever.”

“So, Tank, what brings you to this ward then? Please don’t tell me you kidnap sick kids … Now this would be a twist nobody saw coming.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I shake my head.

“Sure. When I sleep or I’m thinking.” She places the pen into the folder.

“No. You mutter when you’re thinking. I was witness to this about two minutes ago.”

“Oh.” She throws her head back and then steps to the side, laying the folder down on the desk. “Well, what can I assist you with?”

“I need to borrow a pen, and I need you to go over to those windows I can see just there.”

She shifts her attention in the direction I point, then when her attention rebounds back to me, she shrugs and says, “Sure. Okay. Pen is inside the folder on the desk, and I’ll shimmy my way over to stare out the window for no apparent reason because this is not weird in the slightest … No, not at all.”

“Good. Get to it.”

Lesley slides her feet across the flooring. She is talented in moving backwards, so it seems. Eyeing me in the most peculiar way doesn’t do anything to prevent the smirk I know suddenly invades my face.

“Go on now.”

She shakes her head before turning to face away from me.

There’s something about Lesley I find endearing, yet I can’t put my finger on it.

There’s a light whistling sound coming from Lesley as I remove a cheque I’ve prewritten from my shorts pocket and add her last name to it. Carter. “Right! You can come back now,” I instruct, folding the cheque in half and holding it between my fingers, tucking it securely into my cupped palm.

“Okay. This was so much fun. Believe it or not, though, I’m actually a real nurse, and I have work to do. Just leave your phone number inside my folder, since it’s obvious you want to date me, and if I get around to it, I might call you and continue this charade at another time.”

“I—”

“However, you’re not the type of guy I normally seek out. You see …” She leans in close and whispers, “I’m truly a sucker for those real arsehole types. You might have met a few. They screw you hard and are gone before you even wake up. If I’m really on my game, he’ll also steal from me before I’m awake and have any idea he did a runner.” She leans backwards and winks.

“What?”

Lesley laughs boldly. “I’m kidding. About the stealing from me. Not the arsehole bit, though. This is one hundred percent truthful.”

“Stop. You’re confusing me. I’m not leaving you my number. I wanted to pay you for the lift home you gave me a couple of months ago. If I remember correctly, it was a twenty-three-dollar fare.”

She arches her eyebrow.

“If I remember correctly, I said I’d double it.”

Her eyebrow returns to its relaxed positioning.

“I needed your pen because I didn’t know your last name until I went to the information desk to locate you, and I needed to write your last name on the cheque. I also thought you could do with a break at the same time because you seemed swamped … hence the window view.” I open out my palm and shift the cheque until it sticks out between my pressed fingers.

Her mouth draws slack. Her cheeks pink, and she shakes her head.

“It’s okay, Lesley. It’s an easy mistake on your part, really. You see, you’re not my type either. I tend to go for women who want to drive a Porsche and travel around the world on my credit, even though I’ve not two pennies to rub together. Nothing I ever do will be good enough for her, and once she realises I’m a complete good-for-nothing loser, she’ll end things before fucking my best mate. Now that’s a true story.”

Lesley laughs so hard she crosses her legs at the knees. “I’m glad we sorted this out. Thank you for the cheque.” Lesley reaches out, sliding the thin paper from between my fingers. “You didn’t have to pay me, but it’s kind of you to do so.” Opening her uniform blouse slightly, she slides the folded paper down inside her bra. “I’m rich.” She laughs, tapping twice against her chest. “I’ll treat myself to something really nice, and I promise I won’t fuck your best friend.”

“Good. Word of advice, if I may?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Don’t be reading cheques in public. Also, I’m not sure if you saw, but I did write my address on the back of it for you if you ever wanted to hang out … You know, as friends.”

“Noted. Thank you.” She outstretches her arm, offering a handshake.

I oblige.

“Nice doing business with you.”

“Take care, Lesley. I hope sailing the world is everything you dreamt of and more.” With this being my departing words, I swivel on my heel and rush towards the doors I’d not long entered through.

“Holy shit.”

It’s loud, way too loud. I guess she’s like Tessa and Roxie and doesn’t fucking listen to instructions.

“Stop!” she shouts.

I do, dead in my tracks, with my back turned and the doors not far from reach.

“Why?”

“Why does there have to be a reason for doing anything?” I say softly with my back as her view.

It’s a soft touch to my shoulder. “You do realise there’s a four in front of the six and the three, right? And a lot of zeros after.”

“You should take the time to read it in the written word. It’s on there. Took me ages to figure out how to write it, but I think it’s an impressive job.”

They are soft sobs to start with, but they grow in intensity relatively quickly.

Swiftly, I turn to face Lesley, whose hands shake excessively, as does the thin piece of paper she’s clutching tightly. Water springs from under her folded lashes, and her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace. Enfolding my arms around her narrow physique, I pull her against my chest and softly say, “Breathe, you need to breathe. Slowly … deeply.”

She does, and with each inhale and exhale she trembles less and less. It takes a while for her to calm, but I know she is when her head lessens the pressure being applied to my chest.

“Go see the world. And when you get back, come tell me all about it, okay?”

“You were the winner, weren’t you? It was you.” Her voice is barely audible.

“Nobody runs toward a car spewing smoke and then catching fire without good reason. This needs to be our secret.” I take one last breath, one last whiff of the coconut scent of her shampoo. “I’m going to let you go now. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Her voice cracks on the word as I allow my grip to decrease until my hands fall away and land at my sides.

“You know what? If I were you right now, I’d blow off the smelly lancing thing and hightail it out of here.”

She lets out a shaky giggle. “Thank you.”

“Bye, Lesley.” I smile, turning sharply and marching towards the doors I’d hoped to have parted before she’d straightened out the cheque. A postcard in the mail would have sufficed in showing her gratitude. Bloody woman.

The lift to the sixth floor seems to take forever and a day, and my stomach rolls with anticipation, or is it fear? I’m not sure, but, whatever this is, it’s pissing me off. I wish for this fish flip-flopping in my gut to cease immediately. I believe it won’t.

The door is half ajar when I make my way toward it. Holding on to the wall about a metre away from my intended destination, I try to steady my rapid breathing. Hell, I’m now the one in the position of possibly hyperventilating, and I know I must get it together and fast. He’s waiting for me.

“Mr Crossley, so nice to see you again.”

Her voice is oddly high-pitched in nature, and every time I hear it, I picture silver blue eyes widening to the size of saucers as she sucks helium from out of a balloon. It’s amusing—well, it is for me. I know I’m grinning when Nurse Gretchen places her chilled hand onto my arm and says, “He’s ready to finally go home. You are here to collect Alan today, aren’t you?”

It’s a simple nod in response, and with it I’m suddenly being led by this woman, who probably should have been a basketball player due to her height and build. She helps me take the final steps I couldn’t seem to take on my own.

“Gretch, I need you to come to bed eight now.” It’s a desperate plea made by a flash of blue passing us in the doorway.

Gretchen relaxes her hold on my arm, and with a worried gaze, she mumbles, “I’ll be right back.”

Watching her scurry away does little to extinguish my anxiety, still I barge through the doorway with little more than a clearing of my throat.

Alan’s back is my view as he sits facing the bay window overlooking the carpark. The maroon curtains that are normally closed are drawn wide, and the sun beams against the glass. My skin heats as I approach Alan. “Hey, mate. You ready to go?”

Alan doesn’t shift to face me. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly planted on the window pane.

Squeezing his shoulder, I again say, “Hey, mate. You ready to go?”

He shrugs, but still doesn’t afford me any attention.

I stand watching a black SUV, which from this height appears to be matchbox-sized, loop the carpark at least five times before Alan finally says, “It’s just a leg, right? I still have another one.”

Closing my eyes, I find myself trying to identify with the pain Alan must be feeling right now, but I can’t. After all, I still have two functioning and normal legs. He doesn’t.

“Tank.”

“Yeah, mate?”

“Why didn’t they come? You know, to even check on me … Since it happened, that is.”

Fuck, he’s broaching all the hard questions today. Taking a drawn-out breath, I can’t stop myself from releasing it with a sigh.

“Well?”

“You know what? Fuck them. Blood means shit, Alan. Your parents … mate, I’m not going to sugar-coat this for you—they are scum. You’re better off without them. Anyways, you’re not alone or homeless or uncared for, so let it go and—”

Alan laughs. It’s one of those laughs starting from deep down in your stomach that travels until it explodes out of your mouth.

I find myself chuckling alongside him. Why we are laughing? Well, I’ve no clue, but it seems to take the stale tension from the air and brings a lightness to the situation.

With a wiping of his eyes against the upper sleeve of his T-shirt, Alan ceases his laughter and looks at me from over his shoulder before tilting his chin upwards to make eye contact. “Suck it up, princess. Right? That’s what you were going to say?” He grins.

“Bloody oath, I was. Now stop being a Nancy and pull yourself together, will you? Don’t make me buy you a tutu and have you dance the Nutcracker one-legged. You’d look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I would.” He snickers.

“Why are you sitting in this wheelchair, anyway?”

“My new wheels, they tell me.”

“Bullshit it is. You lost a leg, you didn’t break your back and stuff your spine. You’re walking out of here, kid. You didn’t just do all this physiotherapy to sit on your arse.”

“I still can’t believe it’s gone. Fifteen and legless. Shit.” His head drops low.

“Staph infections are the pits. You survived, kid. Plus, women totally dig a dude who needs nurturing and shit. Don’t stress about it.” Patting his shoulder twice, I lift my arm and peek at the watch wrapped around my wrist. Shit. Almost 1:00 p.m. Double shit, bloody Tessa is still waiting in the car.

“We need to go. I’ve something I want you to see anyway.”

“My bag is on the bed.” Alan sighs.

“Well, get off your arse and get it. I’ll grab you some crutches.”

The eye roll I’m gifted from Alan has me smirking. This kid is going to bloody make it in this world if it kills me.