by West, Jade
I was giving her the stab of the needle, to save her the infection. This was an infection that would be deep in her heart. Deep and long. More painful than any breakup I could give her, right here, right now.
“Maybe I don’t want you to be here,” I told her, hating myself at the words. “Maybe I need some time. Some space.”
“That’s not true…” she said, but there was a flash of self-doubt in there.
“She was my mother, Chloe. Do you think you can fix that? Do you really think that you holding my hand through the night is going to make up for the space I need alone?”
She didn’t answer me, and that self-doubt was more than a flash on her face this time. It was a blush, pink through the tear streaks, pounding her heart along with the grief.
I stared at her and she stared at me, and I kept it firm, kept it cold, summoning every scrap of professionalism I’d learnt through the years and keeping my damn fucking emotions under the surface where they belonged.
“Honestly, Chloe. Thank you for being there for me, but I’m through with that now.” I paused, fighting the urge to retch up the whole fucking load of the pain and fall to my knees. “It was easy to get caught up in Mum’s fluffy ideas of companionship forever, but it’s still true that you’re barely more than half my age and I barely know you. Please. Just give me some fucking space, will you?”
It broke her.
And it was all I could do to hold it together.
I felt her fracture inside, pain on top of pain. Rejection. Grief. Loss.
It took every scrap of my willpower to keep steady as her sobs rose back up in her throat.
“I just…” she tried. “I can give you some space… if that’s what you need… but how about tomorrow? How about we –”
I was shaking my head.
“This isn’t going to be fixed by tomorrow, sweetheart. How about you get yourself back to work and back to your training contract, and I’ll give you a call sometime.”
She didn’t know what to say.
Seeing her like that, the white rabbit twitching to run while her heart screamed out for her to stay, was a bludgeon to every scrap of hope I’d grabbed hold of since she danced into my world – the whirlwind in my darkness.
Luckily, the white rabbit won.
“I’ll, um… get my things then…” she whispered, and walked away on stumbling legs.
I didn’t go after her. I stared at the kettle, breathing strong to fight the tears, listening to the floorboards creaking over my head.
I don’t know how I managed to call a taxi. I don’t know how I managed to watch her there, standing at the front door, jittering with a whole fresh kind of jitters without holding her tight and begging her to stay.
The lights of the cab shone through the window, and I walked on out alongside her, handing over the cash to the driver before she could protest.
“Halsey,” I said, and he nodded.
Chloe was dithering as I opened the rear door and gestured her inside.
“Thanks again,” I told her, and my voice sounded so fucking cold.
She didn’t answer, just shrugged, a fresh stream of tears down her cheeks.
“Make sure you head into work,” I said. “The ward will need you tomorrow.”
She shrugged again. “I’ll try my best.”
“That’s a good little jitterbug.” I managed a smile, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
“I mean it,” she said once she had dropped into the backseat. “I love you, Logan. I don’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave.”
It was my turn not to answer.
I closed the door and raised a hand as the car pulled away, watching her saucer eyes watching me through the window until the street corner blocked her from view.
She was gone.
I hated myself.
My little freckle-faced jitterbug was gone.
I made it back to the dining room table before I collapsed with my head in my hands. Ripples of pain ate me alive, over and over as my goodbyes tore me apart.
Because it wasn’t just one goodbye I’d said that evening.
Wasn’t just one farewell I’d made to every joyous moment of my life.
I stumbled upstairs to the bathroom, retching in the sink before I met my eyes in the mirror.
I saw my pain. I saw the futility. I saw everything I needed to see to open that bathroom cabinet and pull the huge insulin bottle from the back of the shelf.
I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t do it.
I stumbled along the landing, and this time I couldn’t stop the glance inside Mum’s room at her empty bed, oxygen pipes still dangling limp by her mattress.
The insulin bottle was in my hands when I went into my bedroom to check Chloe had taken all her things. I was still looking for her clothes at the side of the bed when I caught the flicker of white from my pillowcase.
A letter.
I saw a letter.
Logan.
My gut twisted and lurched.
I could hear Mum’s voice calling my name, her scrawl a squeeze of her hand on mine.
I put the insulin down on the bedside table and picked up the envelope, turning it over and over in my hands.
Logan.
I sat and stared. Thought. Drifted in and out of sleep, that envelope in my hands until the very first hints of sunlight started up through the window.
Logan.
The world started turning. Rousing to life. And I was still a part of it.
I was still Dr Logan Hall.
No matter how much I wanted it to be done for me, I was still Dr Logan Hall.
Fuck it.
Fuck it all.
I took the letter downstairs, and this time I really did flick the kettle on. This time I got myself a mug from the cupboard and spooned out coffee from the pot, and I pulled myself together.
I sat down at the dining table, my teeth gritted tight and my throat dry as a bone, cursing myself for my own fucking weakness in a cruel fucking world.
Then, finally, I tore that envelope open.
45
To my son, who fills my days with love and joy. I watched you grow from a boy into a man, and no mother could be prouder of all you’ve achieved.
When you read this I will no longer be here, but please smile for me, knowing that my life has always been a good one where lessons are learnt and blessings are earnt. You have always been my biggest blessing, my boy, and I’m so pleased to leave you with a blessing all of your own.
I can now pass on, sound in the knowledge that if you open your heart and life, like I know you can do, and share the good, bad and joyous with that beautiful little sweetheart by your side, you will never be alone.
With Chloe I know that you will see how wonderful it feels to be loved, safe and secure. Everything is always better if you share your love and joy. Everything. She is strong, with a wise little head on her shoulders, and she loves you as you, for you. For the amazing Logan Hall I love so much.
She’s a lucky girl, my love. A very lucky girl. And you are a very lucky man alongside her.
I have given her all of my blessings, and all of my snippets of wisdom, so what have you got to lose, my precious boy? The best things in life can’t be bought or sold, they are given. Chloe wants to give you herself and all that comes along with it.
Don’t be sad, for I will always watch over you. Remember me in all the funny, crazy memories we have had, then start building a whole set of new ones with the woman you love.
Life is a span of years,
Full of hope, love and tears.
But there is a time and a place in every day,
To find a special moment to see your way.
Thank you for being my pride and joy, from a tiny bundle of sheer delight into the loving, caring man I’m so joyous and so damn proud to call my son.
Love you to the moon and back.
Mum.
If only she could have known.
46
> Chloe
I let all three of us down that night.
Logan’s mum, when I’d promised her I wouldn’t be leaving him.
Logan himself, when I walked out of there without the greatest fight he’d ever had.
But mainly, I’d let myself down.
I’d walked away from the love of my life, knowing he was meant to be my world. I’d walked away from the place I was happiest, even in the worst of the pain.
Mum and Dad were in bed when I walked through the front door that night. I petted Beano, but even he was dozy, flopping back into his bed without even bringing me his ball.
I crept on upstairs, and already my bedroom felt alien to me. Cold and empty, even though it was packed with my things.
I had a faded old bed set I’d loved for years, and my favourite photos of college up on the walls. I had some of my old teddy bears sitting up on top of the wardrobe, and a sparkly pen set on my desk. Once upon a time it would have been enough – to rush on home to the safety of my parents, like the little girl falling off her bike outside.
But I wasn’t that little girl anymore.
I didn’t make it into work the next morning – I’d have been useless if I’d have tried. Luckily, Romi was still available to help me out and cover my shift. I tried calling Logan right through the day, leaving him messages he didn’t answer. I was ready and set to head on over there, and attempt his front door. I’d found out the train times and got myself dressed ready for the journey, and was just about ready to put my shoes on when I heard the bleep of a message on my phone.
I need my space, it said. Please, Chloe. Give me my space.
Fuck.
I sat down on my bed and cried all over again.
I didn’t know what to do.
I was missing Logan worse than I could have thought possible, and missing Jackie along with him, both of them gone like a gulf from my soul. I tried to hide it as best I could from Mum and Dad, keeping my distance bar a nibble at dinner that night with a whimper of a bad stomach.
I laid down in my room and failed at reading. I tried to sleep but failed at that too.
I was still barely awake when my alarm sounded for work the next morning. My legs were like jelly when I threw myself into my usual nurse uniform, still pulling on my sweater as I ran down the street.
I made it to the train, throwing myself in the carriage and dropping down onto the nearest seat, barely catching my breath before it pulled away.
And then I wondered what the fuck I was doing there.
How the fuck would I make it through the day in a ward full of people trying desperately make it through their own?
I’d just have to try.
I’d have to try for Franklin. For the staff and the patients.
And for Dr Logan Hall.
The man who would want me to help the ward, instead of helping him.
Who knows how I did it, but I did it. I choked back everything I could, sobbing frantic sobs in the toilet every time I had a couple of minutes I could grab. I managed tiny smiles, giving my all to being as genuinely happy as possible, even though I’d taken a grater to every scrap of my insides.
The other nurses knew I was going through some painful shit. They could see it a mile off.
Romi pulled me aside before lunchtime, and her expression spoke a million words.
“Are you alright, Chloe? Has something happened to Dr Hall? Wendy said it’s Dr Edwards in this week instead of him. And I know I’ve been covering… but I don’t know what I’m covering for…”
I’d seen Rachel Edwards in the ward before, and she was great. Really great. But nowhere near as great as Logan, not in Franklin Ward.
“Logan’s got some, um… issues…” I said, and then lost it, lip trembling as I goofed up with my words.
She pulled me into the staffroom and was up close in a heartbeat, holding me tight.
“Hey, girl. Let it out. Let it out,” she soothed. “What the fuck’s going on?”
I cried, gasping. I pulled away enough to shrug, but she didn’t leave me, wouldn’t even look away.
My friend.
She was my friend.
So I told her.
I told her everything in a nutshell. I told her about how I was beyond in love with Logan and would be for the rest of my life. I told her about Jackie and how she was the most incredible woman I’d ever met. I told her how we’d said goodbye to her, and how my heart was still torn up, just not anywhere near as much as Logan’s.
She listened, nodded, and I saw it again, as clear as day, just how skilled and how supportive the staff in Franklin Ward were, helping people with loss and fear and grief through every working day of their lives.
“You get over there and tell Logan how you feel,” she said. “He can say he needs his space all he likes, but he needs you, Chloe. For sure, he needs you. Nobody is invincible. Not even Dr Hall.”
I shrugged again, frustrated through the tears, because how could I get him to reason? How could I get him to listen when he wouldn’t even answer my calls?
I told her as much, but she didn’t stop nodding, her hands gripping my shoulders.
“You do what it takes, Chloe. If you wanna speak to him then you head on over there. You bulldoze his door if you have to. Just get yourself in front of him, and make sure he knows how you feel.”
I loved her logic. I nodded, and calmed my tears and I told her she was right. I would do whatever it took to get myself in front of him.
I was pretty confident when I set off from Harrow that night on the Redwood line train.
The train passed Churchley, and I was still breathing steady, knees knocking just a little as I shuffled in my seat.
Newstone came and went, and my fingers started twisting in my lap as I pictured Logan opposite me, his paperback in his hands.
Eastworth had my nerves fluttering in my stomach, memories of Jackie dancing through my heart, hurting bad enough to catch my breath.
Wenton, Callow, then the Sunnydale viaduct, and the pain was hard, tears pricking.
Then it was Eddington, and my old life. The old life that was done for me. So alien it was strange.
Then Redwood.
The train arrived at Redwood train station.
My legs were shaking as I stepped from the carriage. I focused on every footstep as I made my way to King Street and the man I loved.
And there it was. Logan’s house.
I walked up his front path, legs still shaking.
I knocked at his front door and waited. No answer, so I knocked again, harder.
Still, there was no answer.
I stepped back and looked up at the windows, but there was no sign of life. Nothing.
I called his phone. No answer.
I knocked again. No response.
I called his name through his letterbox, but the place was still, silent.
So, I sat on his doorstep and waited, waited, waited. Still, there was nothing. Not a single sound came from behind that door.
Finally, the ping of a message had me leaping to my feet, fingers scrabbling at my phone. But the message wasn’t from Logan. It was from Liam.
Just come and get your fucking stuff, will you? I mean it. I’m chucking it out. You’d better get your ass in gear if you give a shit about it.
I didn’t give a shit about it. Not anymore.
The tears came streaming all over again, and I had one last attempt at the front door. I shouted his name, cried with all my heart, but still no answer came.
It was cold outside when the sun started setting. I tried his phone once more before I figured I was knocking at nothing and gave up with a fresh bout of tears, defeated as I made my way back to the train station.
The journey was agony. My sobs kept on coming, right the way through to Halsey. I could barely even breathe when I crossed the front lawn. My parents were watching TV when I stepped inside. I excused myself as best I could and headed right on up to my bedroom, but after an evening of
being the one rapping her knuckles against solid wood, this time it was Mum who was knocking at my door. I let her in, and showed her my tears in their full glory.
“Oh, Chloe!” she said, and she held me and rocked me, in that way only a mum can do for her child.
It only made it harder, just thinking how much Logan was missing his mum.
I shared my story from start to finish with Mum, and she listened. I told her how much I loved Dr Hall, and she smiled.
“Then you don’t let it go,” she said. “Whatever it takes, Chloe, you don’t let it go. Not if you love him that much.”
I managed a smile, through the grief and the fear, and she smiled back at me, tears springing up of her own.
“What happened to my little girl?” she asked. “You’re not a little girl anymore, are you? You’re a woman. A woman who knows her road.”
I nodded, and for the first time in my life, my fingers didn’t twist in my lap.
She was right. I was a woman.
And I did know my road.
I was a woman in love, with Logan Hall.
And I’d reach him. I would.
Some way, somehow, I’d bring those walls of his tumbling down.
47
Logan
She would have been a storm of sunlight in my rain. Hearing her knocks and cries at the front door that night was a summons that brought me to my knees.
Fuck. I wanted her.
Fuck. I needed her.
But fuck, she sure didn’t need me.
So, I sat there in the darkness.
My phone was still on silent, resting on the table along with the insulin bottle, and Mum’s letter was propped up next to it, the Logan scrawl burning bright.
I’d known the final extent of the news before Dr Mitchell had called me that afternoon, but it didn’t matter. There was always room for pain on top of pain.
Still, I’d deal with it. Just as I always dealt with it. Just as I always forced my way through the misery with a heart of cold steel.
