by Dawson, H A
‘Not wanting to go then?’
Brittany gawked.
‘The doctor said you are to go home.’
‘What now?’
‘Yes, so long as you take proper bed rest for a few days. Do you have someone to look after you?’
Brittany said she had and thrust back the covers. At last, she could get out of this godforsaken place.
Having gathered her belongings and trundled away from the ward, Brittany reached into her bag for her phone and hoped she had missed a call from Michelle. When she saw she had, in fact, missed three calls, her excitement rose and she accessed the list. The most recent call, however, had been from Imogen, the others from Jason. Disappointed, she sank onto a fabric chair, still clutching the phone, and pondered her options.
It was worth one more try. It may be her last opportunity. She opened the contact list and stopped at the entry for Michelle. The dial tone was perpetual, and reluctantly, she was forced to admit defeat. For whatever reason, her mother wanted no contact. It was a bitter blow.
For a moment, Brittany remained seated, hardly aware that patients, visitors and staff meandered by, and tried to gather strength. Their failed relationship was as much her fault as her mothers, and unwillingly she pondered deliberately hurtful comments, from her youthful outbursts, to her more recent and immature provocations.
Realisation dawned. Discovering the reason for Michelle’s actions had no importance. Why had she not realised that sooner? What mattered was that they could spend time together, whether it was eating together, going to the cinema, or going shopping. Even just sitting in front of the television would be a pleasurable experience. She didn’t want to waste what precious time she had left by bickering.
Brittany looked to her phone again, and to Michelle’s number, but lacking confidence, she decided to contact Imogen.
‘Hi Brittany, how you doing?’
‘I’m okay. Do you know where my mother is?’
Silence.
‘Imogen?’
‘I . . . er . . . we’re going to her house now.’
‘I’ll meet you there.’
Silence.
‘Is something wrong?’ Brittany asked.
‘No. We don’t know if she’s there. If she is, we’ll let you know.’
‘I have to see her.’
There was edginess in Imogen’s tone, and along with Luke’s expletives occurring in the background, the tension was evident. It was unsettling.
‘I think you’ll be wasting your time,’ Imogen said. ‘I promise, if we speak to her, I’ll make sure she contacts you. Are you still in hospital?’
‘I . . . er . . . yes.’
‘How long are they keeping you in?’
‘I’ve just been discharged.’
‘That’s good news. You’re fully fit then?’
Brittany hesitated. ‘Yes.’
Luke yelled at something.
‘Sorry, I have to go,’ Imogen said, ‘Luke’s freaking out. The traffic’s hell.’
‘Ring me later?’
‘Will do. Oh, and ring Jason.’
‘Jason, why?’
But the call had ended.
Their eyes locked and smiles stretched across their faces. Brittany flung her arms around Jason’s quivering body and was drawn into his muddle of emotions, from elation and expectation to dread and anxiety. Tongue-tied, he told her about the moment he heard about the transplant; his voice jittered and his sentences ill constructed as his words rushed out in waves.
Tears dampened Brittany’s eyes, reliving his moment of pure pleasure.
‘It was unreal,’ Jason said. ‘I had to ask again to check I hadn’t misheard.’
‘I am so pleased.’
‘I’d given up hope. I just didn’t think it was going to happen for us. I’m just not a lucky person.’
She pressed her hand onto his thigh. ‘You are now.’
‘I hope he’s well enough to cope. Do you think he will be?’
‘I would imagine so. They wouldn’t have attempted it otherwise. How long has he being in there?’
‘Ages.’ He looked to a clock. ‘Over an hour.’ He pressed his hand on to the seat and levered himself to his feet. ‘I wish they’d tell me something.’
He headed to the operating room door, pressed his hands onto the glass, and tried to peer through a crack in the blinds. His arms were quaking, and for a few moments, he remained there, staring at nothing.
It was impossible for Brittany to imagine what he felt, yet believed the flood of emotions must be difficult to contain. It could have been what had driven her mother to disappear, and it may have resulted in her confession. Perhaps she had been so ecstatic it slipped free, or perhaps given her weakened mental state, she succumbed to the bullying. Someone must have taken advantage.
It was not going to happen again.
Jason turned around and looked to her with a desperate longing in his eyes. ‘I love him Brittany, he’s all I’ve got.’
‘He will be okay.’
Jason smoothed his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know how other people cope.’
‘But they do, and you are going to too.’
‘It’s not easy though, is it?’
‘It makes you stronger, or so my dad used to say.’
‘I don’t feel stronger. I want to do nothing but sleep and forget everything that’s going on, but I can’t switch off.’
‘You will, once you know he’s okay.’
‘What’s it like waking up after a transplant?’
Brittany chewed upon her fingernails. She wanted to say bar the fatigue she had been glad the operation had been a success, but the words stuck in her throat and she could only manage a weak reply. She may have just received a kidney, but her mother’s confession and departure shortly afterwards had ripped out her heart.
‘You seemed a bit off colour the last time I saw you,’ Jason said. ‘Is it always like that?’
‘I have had years of being well, and Ethan will too.’
‘I hope so. I want to see him laugh again, and play with his toys and computer games.’ He caught her gaze. ‘Thanks for coming. It helps seeing you. It gives me a sense it actually works.’
‘It does, so enjoy it while it lasts.’
Jason narrowed his eyes.
Holding her breath, she regretted the bitterness in her tone, and fumbled with her ponytail, slipping the slightly greasy texture between her coarse fingertips.
‘Are things not going well for you?’ he asked.
‘Everything’s good.’
His expression displayed his doubt, but she could not give him a better explanation, and stood up, headed towards the operating room door, and listened to sounds, keen to divert the attention. He was watching her, maybe pondering her thoughtless comment or maybe just thinking of his son.
She spun around. ‘You have a wonderful relationship with Ethan. You’ll get through this, and he’ll be better in no time.’
‘Thanks. And I’m sorry about your mum. Have you spoken to her yet?’
‘No. Luke and Imogen are going there now. They said they’d call me later.’
‘You really should try to sort out your problems. There’s nothing more special than a parent-child relationship. Don’t waste it.’
‘I . . . I don’t know if we can.’
‘That’s what Michelle said too.’
‘Did she?’
‘I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for her at the time. Here I am, desperate for Ethan to recover, and in the same situation, she dismissed you. Even now, she can’t face up to what she’s done. She shouldn’t be running, she should be talking.’
‘It’s what she’s running from that terrifies me,’ Brittany said.
Fear crept into his face. Jason did not need reminding that he had done something very similar, and paid Dr O’Riordan for preferential treatment, yet she could not hold back.
‘I’m sorry. I know you’ve tried to beat the system.’
/> He looked away.
‘You paid them, didn’t you?’
‘You know about that?’ Jason said in a quiet tone.
‘Mum did the same. I think she’s regretted it ever since.’
‘But at least you’re alive,’ he said, ‘and Ethan will be too. I shouldn’t have regrets.’
He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared at the operating room door. He neither flickered nor fidgeted, not even when footsteps and voices sounded a little distance away, and seemed entirely absorbed in his plight. Was he fearing the consequences, or just wondering what his money had bought? Perhaps he knew what was going on, and for the sake of his son had agreed to keep quiet.
The operating room door opened. Jason hurried towards Dr O’Riordan.
‘It’s been a success.’
Jason’s knees buckled. He leaned against a wall. ‘Can I see him?’
‘Shortly.’
Brittany moved to Jason’s side. He turned around, tears drenching his eyes, and flopped into her arms. Drawn to a persistent gaze, she looked to Dr O’Riordan. There was a mixture between pride and curiosity in his face.
‘Hope you’re not busy in the next few days,’ he said.
‘Not at all,’ she replied.
‘I don’t mean for Ethan.’
‘Then what?’
Smirking, he turned away.
She rushed after him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you seen your mother recently?’
‘I . . . no, why?’
‘She’s come clean. I always thought she was a little insane.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Dr O’Riordan strode back into the operating room and padded the door shut. She looked to Jason searching for his assistance in sorting out her confusion, but he was oblivious to the conversation and his hands rested of his glistening face.
His little boy had survived the transplant. It was a joyous moment, a time he shouldn’t be disturbed by triviality.
Chapter 36
Something blocked the road. It was too narrow to do a three-point turn, there were no side streets or driveways, and there were cars at Luke’s rear stopping him from reversing. He was in a jam, and had no option but to wait.
He leaned out of the window and craned his neck to see beyond the queuing traffic and impatient drivers. There was no change, nothing obvious that told him they would soon move, and he thumped the steering wheel and yelled an expletive.
‘It has to be an accident,’ Imogen said.
‘People should take more care!’
‘They’re not being deliberately inconsiderate.’
It seemed as though they were. Everything was against him. First, someone stopped the traffic for a lorry to reverse out of a yard, and took ages to make minuet adjustments and negotiate a way through parked cars, and then three donkeys were on the road and refused to budge. Why did hold ups always occur on the days when time was precious?
They edged forward.
‘Brittany’s not making her way over is she?’ Luke asked.
‘No, I put her off. I hope you’re wrong about Michelle.’
The traffic up ahead was starting to move. He wasn’t wrong, and time was important, every minute, every second.
‘I might try turning around,’ he said.
‘There’s not much room.’
‘When the car in front moves forward, there will be.’ A gap formed. The driver was biding her time. ‘Come on you idiot!’
She moved forward. He glanced in his rear view mirror, checked there was no traffic driving on the wrong side, and proceeded to turn. It was a bit of a squeeze, and he had to move forward and backward several times before he managed it.
At last, he was moving, and relief loosened his muscles.
His phone sounded. He pulled it out of his pocket and flung it to Imogen. ‘Check that, will you?’
‘It’s Michelle. It says, “can you please send someone to my house, asap”.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘Surely that means she’s all right.’
‘Think about it. If she had reason for wanting to see us, she would have said what it was, or rung. No, I’m definitely right.’
‘I hope not,’ Imogen mumbled.
‘Ring her, will you?’
The car squealed as he turned a corner, and he lurched to the right. There was a bus up ahead and a van coming towards him. He slammed on his brakes, his pulse pounding and images of Michelle clouding his judgement, and stopped only centimetres from the rear of the bus. They surged forward, the seatbelts restricting. Imogen gave him a concerned glance. Disregarding her anxiety, he rhythmically nodded his head as he urged the van approaching to move faster. It ambled past, the driver apparently in a daze. Having given him a stern glare, Luke yanked the steering wheel to the right and pressed his foot hard on the accelerator. A car was heading towards him. He spun the wheel to the left, slipped into a gap, and breathed a relieved sigh.
‘Slow down, will you?’ Imogen cried. You have a child to think of now. Don’t forget that.’
He eased his foot from the pedal as a rush of pleasure crept into him, but it wasn’t enough to remove his fear of what he was about to face.
‘She’s not answering her phone,’ Imogen said.
‘I didn’t really expect her to.’
‘This is horrible.’
‘If these bloody pensioners would get off the road, we’d be there now.’
The traffic lights were green. As he approached, they turned red. He slammed on his brakes, and counted the seconds until they changed back. He only reached fifty, but it seemed like a few hundred.
Another couple of miles and they would be there. To his left, a car was moving towards a nearby junction. He kept his eye on it, urging the driver, a female, to wait for him to pass. She did so, allowing Luke progress along the road unhindered.
The sight of Michelle’s road caused a sweeping release of anxieties. He brought the car to a screeching halt and ran along the street to her house. There was no immediate sign of any life within.
He pummelled the door.
No answer.
He tried again. ‘Michelle?’
Imogen appeared at his rear, unflustered and calm. ‘Try the handle.’
It was open. He shot through to the living room and the kitchen, crying out her name. There were envelopes on the kitchen table, one for Brittany and one for Gavin, and there was a suitcase and a holdall on the floor.
Imogen screamed. She was upstairs.
He spun around, blood pounding his veins, and raced up the steps. His foot slipped. He stumbled. His eyes locked with Imogen’s.
She was slumped to the floor, just within a bedroom, and had her hands covering her nose and mouth. She did not acknowledge him and displayed a terrified expression looking to something within the room.
He stepped inside and followed her line of sight.
It was Michelle, hanging from rope with her head drooping and her eyes closed.
Chapter 37
Shadowing Jason, Brittany crept into the ward, her eyes trained on his son. It was inconceivable to think the little boy had just undergone major surgery, and bar the monitor displaying the regular spikes of his heartbeat, it would be easy to think he was asleep after a hard days playing. She marvelled at the procedure and the skills of the surgeon. Had it not been for the person who had donated a kidney, he would have quite possibly died by now. She would be forever grateful.
She pulled up a chair, sitting on the opposite side of the bed to Jason, and caught his eye. Drawn to a look of sheer joy and absolute disbelief on his face, her eyes welled. He responded with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, and then covered Ethan’s tiny hand with his huge palm. The boy did not flinch.
A lengthy recovery lay ahead, and that was assuming that any complications were dealt with promptly. Bleeding could occur, detectable within the twelve to twenty-four hours following the transplant, and blood clots could form. The re
nal artery may scar as it healed, and sometimes the ureter, which was attached to the kidney. It was not a simple operation, but given the faith she held in the transplant team, Brittany was sure Ethan would prevail. She passed Jason a look of confidence, then, under the instruction of the nurse, they departed the ward.
‘He’s going to sleep for a long time,’ Brittany said, ‘we may as well get a bite to eat.’
Jason grinned. ‘Has it really happened?’
‘It has.’
‘Thanks for being there for me.’
‘My pleasure.’
He reached to her hands. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bit odd at times. I was wondering if we could . . . you know . . . carry on where we left off.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘I should never have pushed you away. I was scared Brittany, and not just for Ethan. I didn’t think I could cope with two people in my life with end-stage kidney failure. Thank god, it’s not happening. I’m so glad you’re okay. And I am sorry.’
She gulped and pulled free her hands. ‘Let’s go to the café.’
Jason carried the tray to the table. All she could think about was her failing body. She should have been honest with him, and in the very least have told him about her hospital stay, but it was the happiest she had been for ages, and she knew it was true for Jason. In addition, she did not want to spoil the mood.
He talked non-stop, and amongst telling her about his son’s antics, mannerisms, and habits, he told her about his plans for Ethan and his desire to go to the Artic in search of whales. He wanted to treat his son, to thank him for fighting and to make up for lost time, and he wanted to live a little.
He squeezed her hand. ‘I’d love it if you’d come too.’
‘I’m not sure I can,’ her pulse quickened, ‘it’ll be expensive.’
‘I agree, but I’m sure we could find the money.’
Brittany’s pulse quickened, her confession swirling. She should tell him now, fight her dry throat, and let the words spill. The sooner the better.
‘One thing being sick makes you realise,’ he continued, ‘and that’s that every day is precious. From now on, each day Ethan awakes and is healthy, we are going to enjoy it. I’ve had enough of illnesses to last a life time.’
