by Helen Cox
‘He excused himself. You know how he gets when he’s hungry,’ said Rhonda, who was Hispanic with plump lips and a deep, ravishing voice that played out like an old blues record.
‘Hmm. He’s supposed to be on post. Not convinced that guy needs another meal neither,’ said Alan, ever a stickler for the rules. Rhonda stopped stapling paperwork and smiled.
‘Well, you’re here to protect us all now.’ She winked at him. ‘This the woman you told me about on the phone?’
‘Yeah, this is Esther,’ Alan said. I smiled.
‘Hi Esther,’ said Rhonda. ‘Jack still isn’t awake, I’m afraid, but if you want to visit him you can just go down that corridor. He’s in room seventeen.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ I nodded. ‘I won’t be long,’ I said to Ryan and Alan before turning down the corridor Rhonda had indicated.
Once alone, my heart beat harder with every step. My hands shook and I tried to steady myself with some slow, even breaths. There was too much symmetry to this moment. Dad. Michael. And now, Jack. I’d walked down what seemed like the same hospital corridor for all the significant men in my life. I’d lost Dad. And Michael, I’d given away. Jack, I was determined to hold onto. Somehow, this churn, this unsettling cycle I’d fallen into, had to be broken.
I pushed open the door of room seventeen. Like every hospital room I’d ever been in it was dim but it was, at least, more spacious than I was expecting. A sort of scuffling noise sounded out to my left. I whipped round. Long blue curtains hung at the open window, rippling in a light breeze. I sighed. Why was I so on edge? Hospitals were creepy in their own right but I’d spent a fair amount of time in them over the years so there was no reason for the sense of dread unfurling inside.
I shook my head and turned back to the patient. A glass vase of white tulips stood on the bedside table, accompanied by a few cards sent from friends, and probably Jack’s agent. And then there was Jack.
The wounds had all been to his body so his face looked just the same. He was still able to breathe by himself and hadn’t needed a ventilator, which the doctors said was a good sign. It was like he was sleeping. He looked content, just as he had when he laid next to me on those dreamy nights we spent together. Remembering to close the door first, I walked over and pushed some stray hairs out of his face. I kissed his forehead and breathed in the warmth of him. The swamp of remorse that’d been stagnating in my stomach for the past twenty-four hours began to drain. At his side, I was home again.
‘Jack,’ I said, taking hold of his hand. I opened my mouth to say something you might write in a Valentine’s card when you were twelve but stopped myself. Sappiness wasn’t really our thing and it’d take a lot more than a coma to change that. ‘You know, there are easier ways of getting a girl’s attention than a stabbing.’ I managed to smile. ‘If you wanted me back that badly, I probably would’ve settled for a mini-break to Amsterdam.’ I kissed the palm of his hand and looked down at him. My eyes filled with tears so that the image of him, lying there, blurred. ‘I love you, Jack. You’re a bloody idiot, but I do.’ Trying to ignore the crack in my voice, I pressed my lips together. ‘You…’
I stopped talking.
A sharp breath filled my lungs. I stood stock-still.
There was a hand on my shoulder. Not the kind hand of a friend patting in sympathy but a spiteful, unyielding grip. I closed my eyes. That hadn’t been the breeze rippling the curtains. Someone had been in the room. Waiting. And, if the cold metal scraping around my jugular was anything to go on, it was the same person who’d attacked Jack. I gulped. Winced. The blade scuffed the top layer of skin.
‘Laura, please don’t do this,’ I said. Though I couldn’t see her, I could smell the vanilla in her perfume. Plus, she was the only woman I knew with a history of crazy knife-wielding. Well, her and Glenn Close. But I wasn’t sure if Glenn was local to New York.
‘What did he tell you?’ Laura asked. ‘Did he tell you I was mad? That’s his favourite lie.’ I’d forgotten how hard her voice was. So cruel it was almost corrosive.
‘He…’ The knife grazed my throat as I spoke. ‘He didn’t exactly use that word.’
‘Did he tell you what he did? What he did to me?’ Laura pressed the knife harder against my skin and I pulled away, fearing she’d actually draw blood.
‘The miscarriages.’ I kept my head still but lowered my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how that felt.’ This seemed to give her pause. I suppose understanding isn’t the first thing you expect from someone you’re threatening with a knife. The pressure on the blade slackened for just an instant before she pressed it against my skin once more.
‘And knowing what he did to another woman, you still want to be with him?’ That last part came out through gritted teeth. Whatever I said next had better be soothing otherwise it might be the last thing I ever uttered.
‘What he did to you was wrong. So wrong. And he knows it.’ I paused, trying to ignore the sting of the knife pressing into my gullet. ‘He told me that he knows what he did was wrong. And he’s sorry,’ I said.
‘He’s not sorry enough.’ Again the pressure on the blade increased. Again I jilted my head back as far as I could.
‘I thought you said you wanted to make things work with him.’
Laura just laughed.
‘All part of the game. We can never work things out. He never understood my loss. No matter how many times I’ve tried to push him to the places I’ve been, he just bounces back,’ said Laura with a quiver in her voice.
‘Well, this time the doctors don’t think he will bounce back.’ I looked down at Jack and thought about what it must’ve felt like to endure almost a decade of this. Knowing you can never make up for the worst thing you’d ever done. And all I’d done was add to that, pushing him away for something he was trying to repent for. Pushing him away when he wanted the same thing I wanted: forgiveness.
‘Oh, he will.’ Laura’s barbed voice pierced through my thoughts. ‘He’ll wake up and when he does, do you know what he’ll find?’
I shook my head.
‘Well, I haven’t quite decided myself. Perhaps I should just cut up your pretty little face.’ Laura moved the knife along my jaw and up my cheeks near my eye. ‘See if he still loves you then?’
My bottom lip wobbled at the thought.
Laura noticed. ‘Oh, don’t worry. He’ll probably stay with you out of guilt.’
My breath became shivery. I tilted my head to the left to meet her venomous green-eyed gaze.
‘Please, don’t…’ I whimpered. ‘This isn’t the way…’
She looked hard at me. I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy on her face but anger toughened it up again.
‘No, you’re right. I think I’ll settle for my original plan. Maybe he’ll understand then. When he sees the woman he loves, dead. Because of him and what he did.’ The blade journeyed down my throat to the base of my neck where it stuck. Pointed inward. Poised to stab. My eyes fixated on the black handle of the knife.
This was it.
This was my chance.
I could die here, if I wanted to. I could let Laura bury that blade into me. Stand passive and draw an end to the suffering. Nobody would blame me. They’d just think I’d been over-powered.
But…
Looking at her weapon, raring to tear through skin and soft tissue, I realised something I’d never properly digested before: there would be an end. One day Jack, Ryan, Mum, even Laura would melt away into oblivion. One day there would be peace but not now. I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t done yet. This life might at times be unbearable, but it was mine. If I’d only live it.
Like Quinn said: I was a survivor.
Staring down at Jack from where I stood, my legs tensed. I didn’t know why. I don’t remember thinking it through; I only remember the locking of my knees and the clenching of my gut as I charged, ramming Laura sideways until we hit a wall. She cried out in surprise and, I assume, pain as her body crunc
hed against the windowsill. The knife dropped to the floor and I kicked it away. Alright, so I was a survivor, and maybe a fighter, but the idea of shoving a knife into somebody still made me want to throw up. I needed another weapon. Something less final. The glass vase filled with tulips was just within reach. I grabbed at it but at the same time Laura grabbed my other arm, twisting it behind my back. Then it was my turn to scream out in agony.
‘Looks like nobody ever told you that making crazy people angry is deeply stupid.’ Laura twisted my arm again. I squealed. Pain shot through my body and, in desperation, I swung around, smashing the vase against the side of Laura’s head.
She screeched as the glass shattered and blood streamed from her scalp.
My hand was also bleeding now. I brought it into my chest like a bear with a thorn in its paw. The impact of the vase had knocked Laura off balance. She clung to the wall trying to recover, muttering obscenities.
Gasping for breath, I saw my opportunity and ran towards the door but I had barely opened it before Laura had hold of the back of my shirt and wrenched me towards her, shoving me to the other side of the room. Laura slammed the door shut again and stalked over. She’d reclaimed the knife and brandished it in her right hand.
‘Esther… Laura?’
We both froze.
It sounded like Jack’s voice but it was weak and irregular. In synchrony, Laura and I turned just our heads to look at the bed. Jack’s eyes were open. He looked vague, like a child who’d yet to fully wake from a nightmare.
‘Jack…’ I said, smiling. He was conscious again. He was going to live. I, however, might not. Laura, taking advantage of the distraction, pushed me hard against the wall. My body was sore already from the scuffle and the gash on my hand was still bleeding.
‘See, I told you. He always bounces back,’ said Laura. I went to scream for help but before I could make a sound she crossed her forearm over my neck and, squeezed the breath out of me. I gripped at her arm trying to move it but she was too strong. I could see the muscles protruding just above the elbow. Great. A crazy woman who works out. The closest I’d come to lifting weights in the last six months was carrying stacks of dirty plates in the diner.
‘You woke up just in time for the show, Jack.’
Jack’s eyes widened as he realised what was about to happen. He made a move to jump up but couldn’t. He groaned and clutched at his chest.
‘As a caring wife, I wouldn’t recommend getting up right away, dear,’ said Laura. ‘If you do, you may experience excruciating pain. Something Esther is about to relate to.’ Laura started dragging the knife across my stomach.
‘No!’ I cried out in terror with what little oxygen I had left. But she was just toying with me. The cuts weren’t deep enough to kill. They were just designed to sting.
‘Sorry, Esther. This is where your story ends.’
I kicked and shoved as hard as I could but with her arm across my throat I was running out of air so my movements weren’t enough to shift her. She pulled the knife back, a few centimetres from my stomach, ready to strike. I glanced over to Jack who was fumbling with something next to his bed. I couldn’t see what.
‘Jack!’ His name would likely be the last word I’d ever say.
‘Sorry, Jack’s not the hero you thought he was,’ Laura said. ‘We’ve all had to learn that the hard way.’
‘Hey!’ A voice shouted.
Laura reeled to see who the unexpected witness was. Ryan stood in the doorway. Laura’s arm loosened as Ryan surged towards us but this was my fight and I was going to finish it. I kicked her hard in the shin. She screeched and stumbled but I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t aware of anything except my own desperation to prove I wasn’t the victim, not anymore. Grabbing the wooden tray the tulips had rested on, I swiped her across the head. She staggered but stayed standing so, clenching my eyes shut, I hit her once more and this time she fell flat to the floor. Unconscious.
Panting from the unexpected exertion, I dropped the tray and bent double. It was only then I noticed my throat was throbbing. I massaged the area, bursting to get more air to my lungs. Ryan’s hand rubbed the top of my back as I recovered. After half a minute or so I forced myself to stand up straight again.
‘Remind me never to start a fight with you,’ Ryan said. I looked at him and then down at Laura who was out cold. ‘Come here.’ He put his arms around me.
‘Ow,’ I croaked. ‘Easy, easy.’ Unused to fist-fighting for my boyfriend’s affections, my whole body ached and my stomach still stung from the cuts.
‘I’m so glad you’re OK.’ Ryan kissed my forehead and held me close again.
‘OK is a bit of an exaggeration,’ I said. I heard Ryan laugh. When he let me go, I turned to see Jack was watching us, heartbreak flaring in his eyes. I opened my mouth to explain but before I had a chance Alan, Rhonda and another cop I didn’t recognise bounded into the room.
‘Oh, hell…’ said Alan. ‘You OK?’ This was aimed at me but he wasn’t looking at my face. His eyes were fixed on the cuts to my stomach soaking red blotches through my white shirt.
‘I’ll live,’ I replied. Alan shook his head and gestured for the other cop, who was a bit on the tubby side, to give him a hand.
‘C’mon Rudy.’ Alan approached Laura, who stirred a little as he put his hands under one of her arms. Rudy followed, struggling a little more than Alan was with the weight of her.
‘I’ll call some orderlies to help,’ said Rhonda, dashing back out the door. I watched as the barely conscious Laura was carried out and wondered what would happen to her now. Granted I wasn’t her biggest fan but I couldn’t shake the feeling that with a few more wrong turns I could’ve been like Laura. A few more years with Michael certainly could’ve pushed me over the edge. I sighed and then remembered why I’d come here in the first place.
‘Hey,’ I said to Jack, walking over to the bed. ‘Jack, what did she do to you?’ I put my hand to the side of his face.
‘It’s nothing.’ His voice was hollow and he moved his head away. ‘Thanks for …’ He looked over at Ryan. ‘You didn’t have to come so thank you.’
I frowned at him, and then followed his gaze before shaking my head.
‘I stand by my previous assessment,’ I said. ‘You are a bloody idiot.’
‘Well, that’s probably why you two are such a good match for each other,’ Ryan chipped in after also recognising the source of Jack’s reluctance. I glared at him.
‘I don’t understand.’ Jack unleashed his first proper frown since he woke from the coma.
I sighed. ‘Jack, this is my friend, Ryan.’
‘Friend…’ Jack parroted the word and pressed his lips together.
‘I know. Hard to believe people will put up with her; she is a pain. But I like to think of it as a service to the community.’ Ryan grinned, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
Jack looked between the two of us and, resistant at first, his lips remembered how to smile.
Chapter Thirty
‘You heard from Jack?’ asked Mona, pouring me some juice to go with the pancakes I’d ordered for breakfast. Bernie and Walt, sat either side of me at the counter, stopped what they were doing and leaned in.
‘You going to ask me that every morning? Because there are other diners around here, you know?’ Using my good hand, the one that wasn’t still smarting from smashing Laura over the head with a glass vase, I picked up my drink, took a sip and glared at her.
It’d been four days since I left Jack in the hospital to recuperate. There was a lot to work out but other people seemed determined to make sure we didn’t have a second to ourselves. Rhonda wanted to bandage my hand and stomach. Jack, having awakened, needed a formal check-up from the doctor. And that was without Alan insisting on questioning us about Laura’s attack. Separately. In the end we decided to talk after he was discharged which was probably for the best. It seemed unfair to start any kind of meaningful conversation the second he’d woken up from a coma. Besides, I pre
fer not to make major relationship decisions when the other person is on prescribed medication. Best to at least wait till they finish the course, as a rule.
‘Not so funny when someone asks you the same questions over and over, is it?’ Walt piped up. The glare, still fixed on my face, morphed into grin. It seemed so long ago, I’d almost forgotten I used to torment him over his morning paper.
‘Just thought you mighta heard, that’s all,’ said Mona.
‘He only got discharged last night,’ I said. ‘Give him a chance.’
‘Worked out what you’re gonna say to him yet?’
‘I don’t know.’ I pouted my lips to one side. ‘I keep trying to work it out but I just get all mixed up. Nothing in the world should be this complicated. Cracking a Rubik’s cube would be easier.’
‘You’ll work it out, honey.’ Mona put a hand on top of mine. I nodded and squeezed her hand in return.
Just then, the clatter of a dozen plates smashing on the floor sounded out just beyond the kitchen doors followed quick by Lucia screeching ‘For the love of Gawd’ at the top of her voice.
Bernie and Mona winced at each other. Jean, the new waitress Bernie had hired when I left, wasn’t really working out; carrying things without dropping them seemed to be a major challenge for her.
‘It’s your turn,’ Mona said to Bernie. ‘I dealt with it yesterday.’
‘That kid, I swear to God I’m gonna do something I regret,’ he muttered as he slipped off his stool and shuffled towards the kitchen.
Mona watched after him, shaking her head but was soon distracted when the bell chimed above the diner door.
Out of habit from my own days behind the counter, I turned and tacked a smile to my lips when I saw Angela and Ryan walk in, giggling. Their arms wrapped around each other. They’d been almost inseparable for the last three days. Angela had spent two out of the last three nights in Ryan’s hotel room and I’d spent a lot of time in my own sleeping quarters, two doors down from theirs, reading. It was just typical. I flew halfway around the world to be with the man I was in love with and got a knife in the gut. The guy who tagged along got a whirlwind romance.
