by Amanda Dick
“Your Mom tried to call you and tell you this herself, because your Dad really wants to talk to you, too. She’s asked him to wait, because she wanted you to have some time to come to terms with it, she wanted to prepare you first.”
“Prepare me?” I snapped, turning around to face him, my body humming with adrenaline that pumped through me so fast I felt dizzy. “For him? I don’t want to see him! Why the hell would she even want to see him? What the hell could he possibly say that would make up for what he did?”
Coop shrugged, clearly exhausted.
“I can’t say. I don’t know. All I know is they’ve been talking, and she feels better for it. It’s allowed her some kind of closure, I guess. She’s been able to move forward finally, to put the past behind her. It’s been good for her.”
“Good for her?” I spat.
“Maybe it’ll be good for you, too. To talk to him, hear what he has to say.”
I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less. I turned my back on him, struggling to breathe. It was too much. First Mom was in the hospital – prognosis unclear – and then there was this?
“I don’t want to talk to him, I’m not interested in anything he has to say,” I said firmly, trying like hell to keep my emotions from getting all tangled up inside me, choking me. “Keep him away from me, and if you had any sense, you’d keep him away from her, too. He’s poison. Everything he touches turns to shit.”
The air in the room seemed heavier, or maybe it was because I was struggling to breathe through all the betrayal. It caked everything around me. She had kept this from me. She had been seeing him behind my back. Why didn’t Coop seem upset about that? Wasn’t he worried? He clearly didn’t know him like we did, Mom and I.
What the hell could Dad possibly expect, from either of us? And what bullshit line was he spinning Mom for her to even see him in the first place? Didn’t she remember what he was like, what he did, to all of us?
“I want to see her,” I choked, turning back to Coop.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had this idea that she would be able to answer all my questions, no matter what state she was in. And there were a lot of them, and they were burning my throat, making my eyes water.
He didn’t say anything, just nodded and stood up.
“Is he here, now?” I asked, my fists flexing by my sides in readiness.
I’d hit him once, years ago. I was ready to do it again.
He shook his head.
“I don’t think so. He wanted to give us some space. He said he was going to go for a walk. He didn’t want to be here when you arrived because he knew you’d need some time.”
Even hearing that, I couldn’t relax. He was out there, somewhere.
Far too close for comfort.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Words can be very powerful. I find them very difficult.”
– Bryan Ferry
Callum
She didn’t look like Mom. With a tube in her mouth and surrounded my machines, I barely recognised her. I was scared to touch her. Between the hospital smell and the noise of the machines, I was afraid to go anywhere near her.
Coop must’ve realised, because he led the way. He walked right up to her bed and he took her hand, then he started talking to her, like she could hear him. I remembered doing the same thing to Ally, after the accident, only it was different this time. I had a thousand questions that needed answering, and no one who could answer them for me.
“Callum’s here,” Coop said gently, leaning over her, stroking her hand.
I didn’t feel here. I didn’t feel tethered to anyone, or anything. It felt like my life had just been ripped away from me. I was floating, and the only one who could bring me safely down was lying on the bed in front of me.
“Take her hand,” Coop said, cajoling me back to reality. “Talk to her.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk to her until she could talk back. I didn’t want to talk to her until she could answer the thousand questions I had flying around in my head. I needed to talk some sense into her, but she couldn’t hear me like this. Inside my head, I screamed at her, demanding answers, demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing, warning her to stay away from him, reminding her what he was like.
“Callum?”
I stared at her, but I didn’t see her, not as she was lying on that bed in front of me. Instead, I saw her the day Robbie died. I saw her screaming and crying, attacking Dad, then being pulled off him by neighbours before collapsing on the grass beside the driveway. It was a moment that haunted me, seared into my soul, where it would live forever.
I can’t be here. I can’t watch this.
Like the coward I am, I turned my back on her and I walked away.
Coop called after me, but I just kept walking. I saw Steph as I walked past the coffee room, staring at me like she wasn’t sure yet if she was awake or still sleeping. I needed to get the hell away from there. Coop finally grabbed my arm as I reached the elevator.
“Where are you going?” he asked, confusion furrowing his brow.
“Away from here.”
It was all I could come up with. The truth, in all its simplistic glory.
“Your Mom needs you.”
“No she doesn’t,” I said, shaking his hand off. “She needs you, and you’re here. I can’t do this right now. I need to get out of here.”
“You need to be here,” he said firmly. “You can’t just leave her.”
My temper flared as I jabbed at the elevator button.
“I’ll come back later. Right now, I need to figure out what the hell is going on and I can’t do that here, where he might turn up at any moment – believe me, you don’t want me anywhere near him, not right now.”
“You’ve just driven for three hours, where are you going to go?”
Where the hell is the damn elevator?
Steph came up behind him, her hair tousled and her eyes still hazy with sleep.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “You just got here. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry kiddo,” I said tersely. “I’ll be back later, promise.”
Coop dug around in his pocket, then handed me a key.
“Here, take this – the guest room’s made up, make yourself at home.”
I stared at the key, but didn’t take it. Was he kidding?
“I’m not staying with you. I’ll check into a motel.”
I jabbed at the elevator button again.
“What? Why?”
Because I didn’t trust him any more than I trusted Mom right now. Because all of them had lied to me and no one gave a damn about how I might feel about that, especially now.
“Because I need some goddamn space!”
At long last, the elevator came, and I jumped into it, ignoring Coop’s desperate pleas to stay.
“I’ll call you later,” I said, as the elevator door closed.
Damn it!
I rammed my hand into the elevator wall. Damn this place, damn these lies, damn everything to hell.
I couldn’t remember leaving the hospital. I remember driving around town aimlessly, until I saw a motel. I checked into it and shut myself in the small, incredibly basic room, and sank down on the bed, my head in my hands.
This was such bullshit, all of it. I drove three hours for this? To find out she’d been lying to me, that he was here, that she wasn’t even awake to tell me why? My head was spinning. I felt drunk, like all of this was happening after a night spent downing a bottle of whisky. I shouldn’t be dealing with this shit sober. No one should have to do that, yet I didn’t have it in me to go in search of alcohol and the stupid little motel room had no mini-bar.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Coop hadn’t called. Sass hadn’t called. I felt like I’d been cast adrift by everyone. I glanced at my watch. It was after midnight, but I knew he’d understand.
I stood up and dialled Jack’s number.
Chapter Forty-Six
“The past is a great place and I don't want to erase it or
to regret it, but I don't want to be its prisoner either.”
– Mick Jagger
Callum
Jack answered after several rings.
“Hey,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry, dude,” I said, wiping a hand down my face. “I know it’s late.”
“What’s going on?” he asked. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after midnight.”
I heard Ally in the background.
“It’s Callum. Go back to sleep,” he said, his voice muffled. Then, to me, “Hang on a sec.”
A few seconds later, he was back.
“Sorry. It’s been a rough night, so I thought I’d let Ally get some sleep.”
Something in his tone was off. I picked it up, even through the haze in my brain.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. What’s going on with you?”
I let it go, because I didn’t have the energy to deal with anything else. I sank down on the hard bed. God, I hated motels.
“Mom’s in the hospital. She had a cerebral aneurysm. She’s in a coma.”
“Shit… Jesus.”
“Coop called me tonight, to let me know. I came straight here.”
He sounded much more awake now. I knew that feeling. My body was exhausted, but my brain would not stop. Between that and the hard bed, I couldn’t imagine getting any sleep tonight, no matter how much I wanted it.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m in some shitty motel just out of town. The Three Oaks, or something. I don’t know.”
“Motel? What are you doing in a motel?”
I stared at the carpet, threadbare in places, with a horrible orange and green pattern that looked like it’d been laid in the seventies.
“Dad’s here.”
There was a pause, as he processed the information.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “That about covers it. This whole thing is a goddamn nightmare.”
“Understatement of the year, dude. Keep talking.”
“Seems like Dad’s been talking to Mom over the last few months, trying to justify himself or some shit, I don’t know. She gave him the time of day, can you believe that? After everything he did. What the hell was she thinking?”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, and I don’t want to, either. I went to see her, and… dude, she’s just lying there, hooked up to all these machines. She’s in a coma, which is really pissing me off because all I want is some damn answers, y’know? Selfish, but true. I mean, she’s been seeing him behind my back all this time – what the hell is going on? As soon as Coop told me, I just backed out of there. I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I’m so pissed off I wanna hit something.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, I can imagine. I can’t quite believe it myself. So what about your Mom? What’s going on, is she gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know. They won’t say. The aneurysm, it’s a bleed in her brain. They’re using drugs to try to stop it, but if that doesn’t work, she has to go in for surgery tomorrow, to drain it.”
“Jesus, I’m so sorry, man. Really. If there’s anything I can do, tell me.”
I stared at the horrible olive green drapes hanging in the window opposite the bed. They were the colour of Sass’s eyes, and I wanted her so desperately, even though, deep down, I didn’t think she’d ever trust me again.
The drapes sucked. The room sucked. The motel sucked. Being here alone sucked.
“I wish,” I mumbled.
“You want me to come up? I can leave now, or first thing tomorrow, whatever you want.”
It was tempting, but Jack wasn’t the one I wanted.
“No, but thanks. No point both of us sitting here twiddling our thumbs.”
There was a pause.
“Have you called Sass?” he asked, as if he’d read my mind.
That was annoying, but typical. My silence must’ve been a dead giveaway.
“What happened?”
“What do you think?” I murmured, shame coursing through my body. “I’m an asshole. I messed everything up.”
“What does that mean? What did you do?”
I considered not telling him, but that would probably make it worse. If there was anyone who knew me better than I did, it was Jack. So I told him who Sass really was, what had happened to her and my little chat with Dawson. Then I told him about her midnight singing sessions, breaking my word to Leo and telling her about them.
“She took off like a rocket,” I concluded. “Then Leo cornered me before I could go after her.”
By now, I was lying on the bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. Talking about it made me feel worse. I should’ve just stopped after ‘I’m an asshole’.
“Do you think you did the right thing?” Jack asked.
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Of course it matters. You thought you were helping, right?”
“Obviously,” I snapped. “It’s not like I set out to hurt her, not that it matters now. She doesn’t see it that way, I could tell.”
“Dude, give her time. Let her calm down a bit.”
“You didn’t see her face. She hates me.”
Jack sighed at the other end of the phone.
“You know, for an optimist, you can be pretty damn defeatist sometimes,” he said.
“Optimist? Where the hell did you get that from?”
“You. You’re a cranky, sarcastic, tell-it-like-it-is optimist, but an optimist nonetheless.”
I disagreed.
“I’m a realist,” I insisted. “Which is pretty much the opposite.”
“No. You’re not. If it wasn’t for you, Ally wouldn’t be walking. In fact, if we’re looking for examples here, if it wasn’t for you she wouldn’t even be here.”
I winced. I hated thinking about that, much less talking about it.
“That’s not optimism, that’s friendship.”
“Call it what you want. Loyalty, friendship, optimism – whatever. It’s who you are – it’s who you’ve always been.”
I closed my eyes. No. He had it all wrong. That was different.
“It’s the same damn thing,” he said, as if he could hear my thoughts. “You’re not your Dad. I don’t know how many times you have to hear that before you’ll believe it. You’re not him. You’ll never be him. You might have some stuff in common, but you’re not the same. You’d never hurt someone you loved like he hurt you and your Mom. It’s just not in you.”
I didn’t want to talk about that anymore, there was no point. I was too tired, and that was a conversation I’d been steering clear of for a long time – and would continue to steer clear of for a lot longer.
“And for the record,” he went on. “If you’d told me what you were gonna do to that Dawson guy, I’d have been right there with you. Dude sounds like a total asshole. She doesn’t need that shit.”
I agreed with him there, but I was starting to doubt the way I’d handled it. Sass’s reaction wasn’t what I expected. Maybe she was right. Maybe I’d made everything worse. Suddenly, all I wanted was to hear her voice.
“Do you think I should call her? I don’t want her to think I don’t give a shit.”
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“No,” I lied.
“I think you should let her be for now. It’s late and she might need some time. Call her tomorrow.”
I stared at the drapes, imagining Sass lying in her bed, crying herself to sleep because of me.
“Do you want me to call Bill in the morning, let him know what’s going on?”
“Would you?”
“Sure. One less thing to think about. I’ll explain it to him. He’ll be okay for a few days, I’m sure. You can’t help this kind of thing, and you don’t need to be worrying about work on top of all this.”
I sighed heavily
. He was right there.
“Thanks. I appreciate that. My head’s just… it’s all over the place right now.”
“I bet it is. Are you going back there tonight, to the hospital?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not tonight. If I see Dad, the way I’m feeling right now, I’d just –“
“Yeah, I get it. Just promise me something?”
“What?”
“Go talk to Coop. Be with your Mom. Don’t give your Dad the upper hand. He doesn’t have any power over you anymore – just remember that.”
“Okay, Doctor Phil,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm.
He ignored me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? And you take it easy. Don’t let your old man get to you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I ended the call and stared at the phone in my hand. Easier said than done.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“A dramatic thing, the first time you stand up to your Dad.”
– Lenny Kravitz
Callum
I headed to the hospital early the next morning. The roads were quiet, and the sun was still rising. I wanted to call Sass first but somehow, I couldn’t find the words to explain anything to her just then. My head was full of Mom, and Dad, and the lies that I could feel burrowing under my skin. Big, black, dirty secrets, like filthy, flesh-eating, sanity-devouring cockroaches.
I took the elevator up to the ICU, and then along the busy room to Mom’s bed.
“Callum.”
Coop was standing in the doorway of the coffee room, a cup in his hand. He’d been here all night. I could tell by the unshaven face and smudges beneath his eyes. Guilt punched me in the gut, and I knew Jack was right. Dad was the least of my problems.
“Hi,” I said. “How’s she doing?”
“No change.”
I nodded, quickly glancing towards her bed at the end of the room. Apart from a few nurses buzzing around her, there was no one else. The relief was immense.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked, indicating the machine behind him.
