There’s another knock.
‘Okay, seriously, just come in,’ I say, surprised by how loud I can be even when I’m this tired.
The door finally creaks open.
‘Hey,’ Aiden says, looking like he wasn’t sure he had the right room until he opened the door and he saw me stuck to the bed.
‘Oh my God,’ I say, not really sure I’m seeing him either.
‘Can I come in?’ he asks.
‘What?’ I’m flagging already, seeing Aiden is so great, but I think I got so excited I used up all my morning energy. Also, I really want some toast. ‘Do you have to ask? Of course, you can come in.’
Aiden pushes the door open until it knocks against the wall. He leaves it there when he walks in. I think about asking him to close it. I don’t like when the door is open and I can hear everything going on out on the ward; like some of the little kids crying because they want to go home, or someone puking their guts up. But Aiden seems so nervous I think he’ll be freaked out if I ask him to close it.
‘Right, don’t take this the wrong way,’ Aiden says, ‘but, you look absolutely awful. Like, seriously bad.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile.
Aiden smiles too and shuffles a little further into my room. ‘Be honest, Kay,’ he says. ‘How you doin’?’
Aiden’s Joey impersonation is terrible and I shake my head.
‘That good, yeah?’ he says.
‘What are you doing here?’ I rub my eyes and wake up more. ‘Visiting hours aren’t for ages.’
Aiden scrunches his nose. ‘Kay it’s five past one.’
‘In the afternoon?’ My eyes open wide.
‘No. In the morning,’ Aiden laughs and tilts his head to one side. ‘Of course in the afternoon, you eejit. I was here earlier but your mam said you were sleeping and wouldn’t let me in.’
‘You were here earlier?’
‘Yeah. I got the train up. My mam went off on a mental one about travelling alone to the big smoke, blah, blah and at rush hour, blah, blah. But I got here. And Dublin is awesome. Kinda smelly though. Does the Liffey always stink this much?’
I nod.
‘Well, anyway. I’m here and it’s great to see you,’ he says.
‘I can’t believe you convinced your mam to let you get the train by yourself. You’re usually so… so…’
‘Chicken,’ Aiden finishes for me.
‘Careful,’ I say, my eyes closing without me telling them to. ‘You’re in danger of growing up.’
It’s so hard to stay awake. I’m really happy to see Aiden, but a part of me wishes he wasn’t here so I could go back to sleep.
‘Is it really 1 p.m.?’ I ask.
‘Yup. And my God can you snore. I actually thought there was a donkey in here. He-haw, he-haw,’ Aiden teases.
‘I do not snore.’ I jam my hands onto my hips, pretending to be deeply offended. ‘Ouch.’ I wince when the stupid cannula in my hand pinches.
‘You okay?’ Aiden says, his eyes widening, and I know I’ve scared him.
‘Yeah. Just this stupid thing.’ I point to the needle in my hand. The tape around it is peeling off and grubby and there’s some gross dried blood on it and under it.
‘Wow, Kay. That looks sore,’ Aiden says.
‘It’s a killer,’ I inhale. ‘Seriously. I think this thing is the worst part of the whole stupid nightmare. It really, really stings. I thought I’d get used to it, but I just hate it and wish they’d take it out.’
‘Have you asked them?’
‘Yeah, a bunch of times. I’d just have to get a different one in my other hand and that’s no fun.’
‘I’d say.’ Aiden goes pale just looking at it.
‘Dude. You should sit down.’
Aiden nods and hurries over to the set of chairs next to my bed. He flops into the one furthest away from me and I don’t know why but it really hurts my feelings. Like he doesn’t want to get too close. He knows I’m not contagious, so I don’t get it.
‘Everyone is asking after you,’ he says, sitting a bit straighter.
‘In school?’
‘Yeah. Miss Hanlon got everyone to make a card in PE. Here…’ Aiden swings his schoolbag, that I didn’t notice him wearing, off his back and onto his lap and rummages around inside. He unfolds a giant card and passes it to me.
‘Thanks,’ I say, stuck for better words.
There’s a big tatty grey teddy on the front. He has sad eyes and a bandage around his head and the swirly, lilac font at the top says, Get Well Soon, Champ.
‘Champ?’ I say, running my finger across the letters.
‘Miss Hanlon thought it was appropriate, cause you’re basketball captain and all.’
I look down at my padded and bandaged knee and struggle to hide how emotional I am. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That was thoughtful of her.’
‘So, what’s the story, anyway?’ Aidan says, pulling himself fully upright, recovered from his dizzy spell. ‘When will you be better? The team sucks balls without you. We’ve lost the last two games, Kay.’
‘I… I…’
‘We actually had an assembly for you, too,’ Aiden cuts across my spluttering.
‘You what?’ I say, my eyes raised and my neck poking forward.
‘Yup.’ Aiden smiles and I know he’s loving this. ‘The principal. Vice. Year head. They were all there. There was a prayer and poems and it was super weird. You’d have bloody loved it. Been pissin’ yourself laughing too.’
I shake my head. ‘What the hell, Aiden. That’s not funny.’
Aiden’s stupid grin disappears and he becomes serious all of a sudden. The same way he does when a teacher gives out to him.
‘Does everyone in school think I’m dying or something?’
‘What?’ Aiden says. ‘No.’
‘Well, what’s with all the prayers and stuff then?’
Aiden doesn’t answer and the silence that falls over us is weird and awkward and I’m not sure I want him to be here. I’m not sure I want anyone to be here.
‘I miss you,’ he finally says. ‘School is so boring without you.’
‘School is always boring,’ I correct.
‘Yeah, but it’s extra boring without you.’
I take a deep breath and look around at the four walls I’m growing to hate, the window that tries to be all bright and reassuring but overlooks the car park and the door that creaks open and closed during the night when nurses come in to poke me, check my blood pressure or dose me up with drugs.
‘I never thought I’d say this,’ I admit, ‘but I actually miss school.’
Aiden looks away and I can hear him puffing out deep breaths.
‘Jesus, dude. You’re failing miserably at this reassuring me thing,’ I say, teasing. I’m trying hard to make this easier – for both of us.
‘Wanna go to the games room?’ Aiden says, without turning back.
I don’t. I have no energy. ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘It’s just down the corridor.’
Aiden turns slowly back at last and I can see the tears in the big eejit’s eyes. ‘Do you need help… you know… getting out of bed or anything?’
‘Noooo,’ I lie. ‘I’m fine.’
Aiden stands up and opens the door way before I’m ready. He stares at me as my good leg shakes when I throw it over the edge of the bed. I wriggle my hip, certain I’m pulling a weird concentration face as I guide my bad leg to follow. I shuffle into giant Winnie-the-Pooh-head slippers and I’m so light-headed standing up, I’m pretty sure I’m going to topple over. I can hear Doctor Patterson’s voice play over in my head, ‘Listen to your body, Kayla. It will tell you when you’re ready to be up and moving.’
‘Ready? Aiden asks, his relief to leave my room written all over his face.
‘Ready, ready, ready,’ I say, using up so much energy getting from the bed to the door.
Twenty-Six
Kayla
It takes us two hundred years to reach the games room. I had to keep stoppin
g every couple of steps to draw deep breaths like I’ve been smoking like a trooper since the day I was born. Aiden rubbed my back sometimes. It was a bit weird and it didn’t help, but I didn’t want to offend him and ask him to stop when he was trying so hard.
Aiden’s reaction when we reached the games room was also weird.
‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘This place is great.’
It’s not great. I mean, really, really not great. But, to be fair, compared to my boring-as-hell room, it’s a lot better.
There’s a pool table in the centre of the room, a couple of cues hung up on the wall behind it, and blue chalk that’s worn down to a stub on the side. There’s also a play kitchen and book shelf overflowing with fairy tales for little kids. Also, there’s a not-too-shabby huge TV on the wall. It’s mostly taken over by Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol, but in the evenings when the little kids are asleep, a few of us get together to watch Friends.
‘Game of pool?’ Aiden says, bouncing into the room with a nervous energy.
I groan inwardly. My hand is fanning the wall just outside the door, weirdly over Aladdin’s crotch and I know if Aiden looks over I’ll never hear the end of it, but it’s way too much effort to move.
‘Kay, c’mon. You love pool, don’tcha.’
I don’t know where he’s got that from. Because sick or not, I hate pool.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, wondering why the hell I didn’t think to bring my crutch. It was right beside my bed. And it’s just one, so it’s not really obvious that I’d be leaning on it so much.
Aiden grabs a cue off the wall and chalks it up like he’s some sort of pool champion who knows what he’s doing.
‘Kay, c’mon. You have to chalk it.’
‘Do you?’ I pull a face, wondering why you would.
‘Of course,’ Aiden says, as if that’s a reasonable answer and I try not to smirk knowing he has no clue either.
I peel myself off the wall and shuffle into the room as if I’m one hundred on my next birthday.
‘Game of eight,’ someone says, like a whisper scratching against your window when you can’t sleep.
‘Who’s there?’ I say, craning my neck to search the seemingly empty room.
The beanbag in front of the telly rustles and the boy who seems to always be morphed into it finally stands up. I’ve seen him before. He’s stuck to the beanbag in the evenings before I come down for Friends and he’s always still there when I leave. I’m shook to see him standing up. I kind of assumed he had something wrong with his legs, but he stands up no bother and it irrationally irritates me. Why is he even here?
‘Who’s first?’ he says, looking at me.
‘Aiden,’ I say pointing at him, since he’s holding the cue, and I’ve yet to make it over to the wall to reach mine.
‘Right,’ Beanbag Boy says to Aiden. ‘You pot first. Hit a stripe. That’s what you’re aiming for. Hit a plain, you’re aiming for that. Get me?’
Aiden nods, but his eyes aren’t on Beanbag Boy, they’re on me.
‘Need help, Kay?’ Aiden asks.
‘I’ve got it,’ I say, closing my eyes for a moment before I hobble forward. I take down the remaining cue and hold it across my chest like a warrior ready for battle.
‘Your shot,’ Beanbag Boy says.
‘You look like you wanna play more than me,’ I say, offering my cue to him.
‘Nah, Healthy Boy here thinks he can take you on. I say let him have it.’
‘Healthy Boy,’ Aiden snorts under his breath as he searches under the table for something.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask.
‘Sean,’ beanbag boy says with a lisp, and I see that his jaw doesn’t open and close properly when he’s trying to speak.
I hate myself for gasping. I’m missing half a leg, for God’s sake – I’m not one to be shocked. It’s just, Sean seemed so normal, so unaffected; his struggle catches me off guard.
‘Got it,’ Aiden says, straightening and holding a plastic triangle above his head.
‘It’s mouth cancer,’ Sean says, ignoring Aiden’s announcement. ‘And before you say anything, I don’t drink or smoke, I’m fourteen, gimme a break. But yeah, it sucks. And yeah, I’m screwed.’
‘Knee,’ I point to my padding and plaster. ‘Well sort of, more the bits around it, but my knee is still mangled.’
‘Ouch,’ Sean says.
‘What’s your excuse, Healthy Boy?’ Sean smirks, his eyes shifting to Aiden. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m visiting. Just visiting,’ Aiden says.
‘Ha,’ Sean snorts. ‘Alright for some.’
‘Aiden is my mate from school,’ I say.
‘Just a friend?’ Sean asks.
I laugh, probably a little harder than is necessary. ‘God, yeah. We’re not going out. That would never happen. Not in a million years.’
‘Okay, Kay,’ Aiden grunts, as he gathers all the balls into the plastic triangle that he’s placed in the centre of the table. ‘I think he gets it. We’re just mates.’
‘So, do you have a boyfriend, then?’ Sean asks.
I glance at my plaster and wonder if he’s flirting. And if he is, why? Look at the state of me. Who would want to flirt with me like this?
I hear the crack of balls knocking against each other and I look up, relieved to find Aiden has started the game. Maybe we can get back to talking about pool and Sean will stop making this awkward.
‘Nice break, Healthy Boy,’ Sean says. ‘You’re stripes.’
‘Please stop calling me that,’ Aiden says.
‘Healthy Boy, Healthy Boy, Healthy Boy,’ Sean chants.
‘Seriously, dude. What are you? Like six? Cop on,’ Aiden says, slamming the cue down onto the table. Some of the balls rattle and move from position. The blue one rolls into the middle pocket.
‘C’mon,’ I say, placing my hand on Aiden’s shoulder. ‘Let’s just play on.’
‘You can’t play on now,’ Sean snorts. ‘Healthy Boy here is cheating.’ Sean points at Aiden and pulls a face. ‘Cheater, cheater, cheater.’
‘Okay.’ Aiden’s eyes widen with frustration and he shrugs my hand off him. ‘You’re just a wanker, do you know that? If you weren’t sick I’d punch your bleedin’ lights out.’
‘Aiden,’ I squeak, horrified.
‘What?’ Aiden snaps. ‘You heard what he said.’
I shake my head.
‘Oh, is Healthy Boy sulking now cause his missus gave out to him?’ Sean says.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘That’s enough. You’re being rude. We’re leaving now. C’mon, Aiden. Let’s go. I don’t even really like pool anyway.’
‘Ah, what?’ Sean says, sounding disappointed. ‘Don’t go. I was only having a laugh.’
‘It wasn’t funny,’ I say.
Sean raises his hands above his head and frowns. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I was just messing. I didn’t mean to piss you off. You guys stay and play. My gran is coming in to visit soon anyway. I gotta go.’
I hear Aiden puff out and gather up balls, I guess he’s resetting the table to start over. But my eyes are on Sean as he walks towards the door with his shoulders flopped forward and his head down. He seems genuinely sorry that he offended us. I think his tough-guy thing is all an act. And I get it. Maybe it’s easier to pretend to be something you’re not, than face up to never being the way you were before, ever again.
‘Hey,’ I call just as he’s about to walk out the door. ‘I’ll see you later for Friends, yeah?’
He stops and twists his head over his shoulder. ‘Friends.’
I think Sean could really use a friend in this place. So could I.
Twenty-Seven
Heather
I’m downstairs in the canteen trying to talk some sense into the manager when my phone begins to ring. I ignore it. Someone has complained about too many blueberries in their muffin, and the manager has pulled me aside for a quick word. That was over five minutes ago and I’m anxious to get back upstairs to
Kayla. I left her alone on the ward over an hour ago and I told her I wouldn’t be long.
‘This is the third complaint,’ the manager says with her hands on her hips.
‘It’s the same patient complaining each time,’ I say. ‘If they don’t like blueberries they should order a plain muffin.’
‘We take complaints very seriously, Heather.’
‘And so you should,’ I say, my phone buzzing furiously in my pocket. ‘But this is just stupid.’
‘Heather!’ The manager’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘I’m disappointed to hear you say that. We pride ourselves on good customer experiences and we would never consider any of our customers stupid.’
My phone stops ringing.
‘Someone found a hair in their tomato soup, yesterday,’ I say, becoming increasingly impatient with this ridiculous conversation. ‘And I never said the customers are stupid. I said complaining about too much fruit in a fruit muffin is stupid. And it is.’
‘Just don’t be so heavy with blueberries in future, okay?’
I’m about to retort with a question about where we stand on raspberries and chocolate chips but the respite from my ringing phone is short-lived and it starts buzzing again.
‘Less blueberries moving forward. I got it,’ I say through gritted teeth, as I reach into my pocket and pull out my vibrating phone. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.’
‘Hello,’ I say, holding the phone to one ear and pressing my finger against the other, trying to block out some of the noise bellowing from the clusters of people eating and drinking all around me.
‘Heather?’ a man’s voice says.
‘Yes.’ I hurry through the double doors of the canteen, instantly relieved by the sudden silence on the corridor as I make my way towards the lifts.
‘Heather, it’s Jack. Jack Patterson.’
‘Doctor Patterson,’ I say, taken aback that he’s my incessant caller. The lift doors open and the woman who gets in ahead of me holds the door, but my feet are frozen to the spot. I wave my hand and she lets the doors close. ‘What’s wrong? Are there more results back? Is it bad?’
The Forever Gift Page 14
