To Fall for You

by R. J. Groves

  A look of worry and sadness swept over his face, his tired eyes betraying him.

  “Renée is in hospital,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Has been since Sunday night. Who are you, anyway?”

  He must have noticed the confusion and worry in my voice when I spoke next; Aimee was too appalled to speak.

  “Friends. Wh–what’s wrong with her?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.

  “Appendicitis. Well, so they reckon. The symptoms all seem to point that way, but they have to be certain before they can do anything about it,” he replied. He closed the door behind him, leaving us standing on the front steps, confused and worried.

  I looked at Aimee, and she nodded in agreement as though she could read my thoughts. We turned and almost ran away from the big, beautiful house.

  Chapter 6

  Growing stronger includes facing your fears.

  We stood outside the huge white building, preparing ourselves for anything that would be inside. While we stood motionless, staring at the huge glass doors, we realised that we didn’t know what room she was in, let alone what ward. We both took a breath and entered through the glass doors.

  I always remember hating hospitals. I never hated the fact that they saved lives and helped people get better, but I hated the feeling of being in one, as either a patient or visitor. The feeling you get when you walk into the big building smothered in white. White walls, white floors, white roofs, white bedding. As much as I personally love white, it was possibly the worst colour imaginable when I walked through those doors and found myself surrounded by it.

  But it’s not just the being surrounded by white that I hate; it’s also the noises. In almost every room you enter, there are machines beeping which, whether you are a patient or just visiting, really get on your nerves. Apart from the beeping machines, you also see many people who often have serious illnesses. The sight itself makes me nauseous, something which I could never handle no matter how many times I went into these terrifying buildings.

  This hospital looked just like every other one I’ve been in. I felt like running away from this place I dreaded. It was Aimee, who knew how much I hated hospitals, who had hold of my arm, urging me forward, deeper into the building. The gentle but firm grasp she had on my arm was not one to keep me from running away, but it was a constant reminder that I had a friend in this building, who was most likely more scared than me, and who needed me there with her to tell her that she’ll be all right. To provide a relief from the loneliness and rejection that she could be feeling, to help her concentrate on something other than her illness, and to be a distraction from her pain.

  This kept me moving forward. I knew that I could have pulled away from Aimee’s grip with the slightest amount of effort, but this time I would not run. I would continue all the way to Renée’s ward, and sit there with her for as long as she needed me. I would be the friend I should have been when she first came to the school, instead of saying what I did about her. I would be someone she wanted to be friends with, instead of someone she felt obligated to be friends with because of the way we greeted her on her first day.

  I would be someone who was there for her when she needed it the most.

  We reached the reception, glancing into the waiting room on our way. There seemed to be lots of people waiting to see the doctors: people with bruises and dried blood on their arms and legs, others coughing, and children crying in their mother’s arms. Normally this sight would have sent me out of the hospital – that is, if I hadn’t already left. But today, it didn’t. Today, I was able to overcome my fears. I felt a familiar nudge against my side. I looked to my right to see Aimee looking concerned. She frowned, seeing the sadness in my eyes as I looked away from those in the waiting room.

  “We would like to visit Renée Clarkey,” I said to the receptionist. “Is that possible?”

  “Room 7B. Left at the end of the hall. Look for the number on the doors,” she replied, hardly looking up from her paperwork.

  “Thank you,” Aimee and I said at the same time.

  We walked quickly in the direction the receptionist sent us in, Aimee’s hand still holding onto my arm in firm assurance, looking at each of the numbers on the doors.

  Three.

  I began to feel impatient, feeling Aimee tense beside me.

  Four.

  What would Renée look like? Would she look like the chirpy redhead we knew her as?

  Five.

  I thought about her family; we had never met anyone from her family before, apart from seeing her brother at her house. What would they think of us?

  Six.

  The next door ahead was open; we could read the large number on the side of the door. Both Aimee and I moved at a faster pace now.

  Seven.

  Now rushing, we walked into the room without knocking, glancing around. My eyes looked over the walls, the floor, the ceiling. White. My heart started racing. There were two beds in the room, both with white bedding. The moment I had been dreading outside – the thought of being deep inside the terrifying building – had become a reality.

  My eyes rested on a blonde girl lying in the first bed, tears rolling slowly down her face, her parents holding her hands, and an older girl with long golden hair resting her hand on the poor girl’s legs.

  My eyes moved quickly from the young girl to the redhead in the next bed. Her face was pale, her body frail and shaking. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. A stab of sadness and compassion rushed through me as we moved to the end of the white bed that contained the familiar girl. Her face lit up and reached a weak smile as soon as her emerald eyes rested upon us.

  “Hey,” she said weakly, her smile more radiant than any smile I have ever seen in a hospital.

  “Renée, are you all right?” I asked, realising too late that she wasn’t and that it was a rather stupid question to ask someone who is in the hospital.

  “I have been better,” she replied, her voice containing a small amount of humour. “How did you know I was here?”

  Aimee was the one to talk this time.

  “We wondered why you haven’t been at school, so went to your place and you weren’t home. Your brother said that you were here.”

  Her voice trailed on the last word as she observed the room around us. Renée cringed, grasping her side, a tear rolling down her cheek. I soon found myself sitting next to the frail redhead, her hand grasping mine tightly.

  “They can’t do anything yet,” she started. “Not until they know for sure.”

  Unable to find the right words to say, I nodded. We sat in silence for a moment. The sobs of the blonde girl in the bed next to us, and her family encouraging and comforting her, were the only audible sounds we could hear. Renée broke the silence, sighing.

  “I didn’t think you would come,” she said, looking at both me and Aimee.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t bring you anything,” I apologised. “We didn’t happen to pass any florists on our way here. Well, we didn’t see any.”

  I smiled when I heard a weak laugh from the pale girl, who now looked years younger than she actually was.

  “But you did bring me something,” she said.

  Aimee tilted her head, bit her lip and raised her eyebrow.

  “What did we bring you?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t bring anything.”

  “You brought yourselves,” Renée replied. “I couldn’t want anything more than to have my friends next to me. Besides, fresh conversation is more refreshing than inanimate objects.”

  I smiled, a tear rolling down my own cheek. I was sure it wasn’t a tear of sadness, but of happiness – happiness in knowing that I had done what I planned to do in a way that Renée found significant and important. I knew that, at that very moment, I was being the friend I should have been from the start.

  A short doctor walked into the room, her black hair high in a bun, and rushed over to Renée’s bed with Renée’s mother – I presumed – right at her
heels with tear-stained eyes.

  “Renée, sweetie, I have some bad news,” the doctor said, reaching over to feel Renée’s forehead.

  “I have it, don’t I?” she asked. The doctor nodded. “I need to have an operation, right?” Another nod. Another tear rolled down her cheek. “When?”

  “It’s worse now,” the doctor replied. “So… immediately.”

  It was Renée’s turn to nod, more tears streaming down her face.

  “Girls, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room,” the doctor said to Aimee and me. We both stood to do as we were told.

  A cold, frail hand grasped onto my arm. I turned to look into the emerald eyes that were looking up at me.

  “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me,” Renée said.

  I felt another tear roll down my cheek as I reached out my hand to push part of her curly red hair away from her eyes.

  “You’ll be all right,” I said. “Everything will be fine.”

  “Coffee, one sugar, just the way you like it.”

  Aimee handed the hot foam cup to me and took a sip of her own coffee. We had been at the hospital for two hours, waiting to hear some news about Renée. We knew that the operation itself was finished, but Renée was still unconscious. We rose to our feet when we saw Mrs. Clarkey walking down the hall towards us.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said, sounding exhausted. “The surgery went smoothly, but Renée still hasn’t woken up. She should wake up sometime soon, but she will probably be out of it.”

  “We’re glad to know she will be fine,” Aimee said for both of us.

  I leant against the wall, only just realising how tired I was feeling.

  “So am I,” Mrs. Clarkey said absentmindedly. “Girls, can I talk to you for a moment?” she added after a sigh.

  I looked at Aimee after taking another sip of coffee, receiving a nod in return.

  “We have time,” I answered the tall, tired redhead, who looked so much like her daughter.

  We all sat down on the seats in the corner of the waiting room.

  “I just want to thank you for coming to see Renée. You could never imagine how much it means to her to have both of you by her side,” she started.

  Aimee and I nodded, silently urging her to go on.

  “Renée was telling me last night that most people have their friends come to visit at the hospital. Looking into my daughter’s beautiful green eyes, I couldn’t see how it was possible that she still hadn’t made any friends,” she said. “I knew about the two of you, though; she came home from her first day at school with a huge smile across her face, telling me all about how nice you were to her.”

  I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that what Renée told her mother that day wasn’t entirely true.

  “It always broke my heart to find that, at every other school she has been to, she never made any friends,” she continued, her eyes starting to glisten. “To be honest, I sometimes don’t think she really ever tried to make friends. She always enjoyed reading and seemed to find the school breaks to be a perfect time to read in quiet. She changed schools so often because we moved a lot, but also because she was teased. She would almost always come home with tears in her eyes, dreading the day that was to follow. When she told me about the two of you, I finally felt hopeful that it might be different this time.”

  I swallowed my guilt. I wish that I had known about Renée’s past before. Maybe I would have been more mindful about how I treated her.

  “Last night she was really upset because her only visitors were her family. It just makes me so happy that you were concerned enough for her that you made the effort to check on her,” she said. “As soon as I walked through the door, I could see that Renée’s face had lit up in a way I have never seen before, despite her being unwell.”

  A tear rolled down Mrs. Clarkey’s cheek and she paused to wipe it away with a tissue.

  “All I can say is thank you,” she said finally. “Thank you for taking the time and effort to talk to Renée on her first day, for showing her around, and for befriending her. It means so much to us that you both have put a smile on her face.”

  I looked at Aimee. Just like me, she seemed at a loss for words. We had no idea that befriending Renée would impact her family like it apparently had.

  But I still felt guilty. After everything she has been through, what I said on Friday couldn’t have made her feel any better. I still hadn’t apologised to her, and I knew that I couldn’t keep putting it off. I looked at the time, thinking that our parents would be worried about us. We can explain when we get home, I thought. They will understand. I looked at Aimee, and she nodded, her eyes saying that it was time for us to go.

  “Mrs. Clarkey,” I began. “We are so sorry, but we really need to get home – our parents will be worrying about us. We’re glad that Renée is happier now. It has been nice getting to know her, and we’re terribly sorry to hear that she had appendicitis. Sorry we can’t stay for longer.”

  Mrs. Clarkey’s expression was concerned.

  “Are you going to come tomorrow?” she asked.

  I looked at Aimee, her brown eyes showing her answer. I looked back at the lady in front of us, her red curls framing her face and enhancing her green eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 7

  When the truth was revealed.

  Just as we promised, we returned to see Renée the next day. I had a renewed determination to apologise to her for what I said on Friday. Before today, I only ever planned on telling her that I was sorry for what I said, that it didn’t come out how I wanted it to, to tell her that I only said it because I was upset and frustrated. It was different now. It wasn’t just simply wanting to apologise to remain on her good side and to not give her anything she could hold against me.

  It’s because I knew that I had hurt her, especially after all that she’d been through and all that I had said without realising that she could have had so much more happening in her life. An apology wasn’t just something I thought necessary, but also what I wanted to do and knew was necessary. I didn’t want to apologise just to remain on her good side. I wanted to apologise because I cared about her.

  “Renée is ready to see you now,” the nurse said, walking into the waiting room.

  We nodded our agreement, and I started walking towards Renée’s room, Aimee close behind me. When we got there, the smile returned to her face. She seemed so small and fragile, enclosed in the hospital bed, surrounded by white, her face pale and pastel-like, blending in completely. Her emerald green eyes and her bright red hair were the only parts of her that stood out against the pale room.

  “You came back,” she said to us, her voice breaking.

  “Of course we did,” I said as we walked over to the bed and sat on the chairs next to it.

  I reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes, receiving another weak smile in return.

  “You look better today,” Aimee observed, twining her fingers together.

  Just like me and my hatred for hospitals, Aimee was never very good when she was visiting. As soon as she walked through those doors, she kept her eyes on the ground, her skin appearing pale itself. Anyone could mistake her as a patient if she wore the right clothes. When sitting next to the person she was visiting, she rarely talked. She never went to the hospital on her own and she always took someone who was likely to talk to the patient so that she wouldn’t have to. I’ll admit that she could talk a lot all the time, her location rarely having an effect on her, but in the hospital, she turned into a shy, inconspicuous, quiet girl.

  “I don’t feel much better,” Renée replied, frowning. Aimee looked up at her for the first time, allowing a small gasp to escape when she saw how pale she was. “But thanks anyway.”

  “You’re welcome,” Aimee replied quietly, returning her gaze to the floor.

  We sat in silence for a few seconds. Renée broke it with her weak voice.

  “What have I
missed at school?” she asked, looking over at me.

  Her question surprised me. Even though she had been in hospital all week and had her appendix removed, she seemed determined to do well in school and catch up with everything she had missed as soon as she possibly could. I was shocked at the idea that she might want to start catching up so early after the operation.

  It has been a whole day after her operation, I thought. I find it hard to concentrate the day after I have mostly recovered from a cold.

  “Mostly chemistry,” I replied. “But I’ll fill you in on everything when you leave hospital. Which reminds me – when are you leaving?”

  A slight look of disappointment swept over her face. She really didn’t think that I would let her do school work while she was in hospital, did she?

  “Okay,” she replied, sounding slightly defeated. “I leave tomorrow night – they want to keep me in for at least forty-eight hours after the operation to make sure I don’t have any trouble. But I can’t go to school for at least four nights after I leave. What will I miss in sport tomorrow?”

  I suddenly realised that I didn’t know. But I always know what we are playing for sport, I thought. Except for last week. Except for last week. A pain shot through me as I recalled why I didn’t know what we were going to play last week.

  “Soccer again,” Aimee replied, breaking the silence and still staring at the floor.

  The world around me seemed to be caught up in my memories of that day once again. Everything that was happening around me coalesced into one big mess, confusing me and leaving my breaths short and ragged.

  “Emma.” The familiar voice sounded concerned. “Are you all right?”

  I turned my head to the direction of the voice, trying to sort out the mess in my mind so that I could concentrate on what I was doing.

  “Emma?”

  I looked up into the bright green eyes that belonged to a pale face framed with red curls, feeling a hand on my shoulder – not hers – at the same time. I didn’t need to look to know that my best friend was next to me, trying to get my attention.