by Karen West
I gazed into his eyes as he waited for an answer. ‘Yeah, I will. Thanks, Dad.’
He reached out and hugged me. I hugged him back. My phone squawked. Dad stood up. Catch you later, he mouthed.
‘Hi Libby, I was going to call you,’ I said, closing the attic door behind me.
‘I’m on my way back over.’
‘Do you mind if we catch up tomorrow?’
‘Seriously?’
‘We could meet after Mum’s appointment. We have to be in the city early.’
‘Are you going to tell your mum what you read on the internet?’
‘No, I couldn’t do that, but I do plan on bringing it up with Janice, the social worker from the hospital.’
‘Richard’s here,’ called Dad.
‘I have to go, Richard’s here.’
‘I thought you were tired?’
‘I am. See you tomorrow.’
‘Send him up,’ I called over the balustrade.
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Dad called back. He left Richard parked inside the front door, near the hat stand where we hang the umbrellas.
I took his hand and led him into the lounge room. I knelt in front of the fireplace, using a steel poker on the logs to wake the flames.
‘I don’t think that your dad likes me,’ he said as I crawled across the floor to sit beside him.
‘He likes you, he just doesn’t want you in my bedroom.’
Richard leaned forward and ran his wet tongue over my lips. ‘So, he wouldn’t like me kissing you like this?’ he whispered.
‘Nope, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t,’ I breathed, placing my hand on his chest, moving him away, like a mouse teasing a cat.
‘Libby called me,’ he said.
The thought that Libby might have discussed my clippings with Richard made the blood rush to my head. ‘And?’
‘She’s concerned, Steph.’
‘There’s an art competition,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘Mum wants me to enter.’
‘You should enter.’ His words were encouraging.
‘I might.’ I saw Richard’s expression change from happy to serious. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Yes … no … I mean, yes. Can we do a movie another night?’
‘The movie, yeah, sure. I told Libby earlier that I was staying in. What’s happening?’
‘I’m meeting up with Paul and his band. We’re going to hang at Paul’s house, listen to music, order in pizza.’
‘You didn’t have to come all the way over here to tell me that.’
‘Yeah, I know, but your house was on the way. I’ll catch you later,’ he said.
I sensed there was more. ‘Hey, wait. Is there anything else on your mind?’
‘Paul knew the girl,’ he blurted out. ‘She’s the sister of his mate, Kevin Marks.’
‘Girl?’
‘The girl who was in the car accident, Steph. I didn’t plan on telling you. Her name was Katie Marks. They’re taking her off life support tomorrow. He’s pretty cut-up.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, so am I,’ he said, dropping his head. ‘I just don’t get why young people have to die.’ He started walking, stopped, and doubled back. ‘I love you, Steph, and I’m not saying that because you’re understanding. I love everything about you.’
The thought crossed my mind that Katie’s chances of being loved by a boy were being switched off tomorrow.
‘Did you hear what I said?’
I walked into his arms and he kissed me. ‘I love you too.’
When Richard left, I dialled Libby’s number, but it went to messages.
I sat huddled in the corner of the lounge watching the 6 o’clock news with a nervous flutter in my stomach.
The reporter cut live to the scene of a shooting. ‘Earlier this afternoon in Western Sydney,’ he said, ‘shoppers narrowly escaped injury when two armed men opened fire in a car park. One of the men was shot dead, and the other was taken to hospital. His condition is reported to be critical.’
The camera zoomed in on a tattooed arm protruding from a plastic sheet. ‘The men were known to police, and both had previous convictions for drug trafficking and robbery.’
It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone could be an organ donor. My mum could end up with the heart of a criminal. The thought was disturbing.
Dad appeared at the door. ‘Dinner,’ he said, frowning at the television.
‘Where’s Mum?’ I asked, taking his mind off me watching the news.
‘I’m hoping she’ll join us later.’ I switched off the television and mimicked his giant strides back to the kitchen.
Dad had the paper open on the art competition entry form. He slid a pair of scissors across the bench, reached into his work jacket and pulled a twenty-dollar note from his pocket.
‘Did Mum put you up to this?’
Dad’s eyebrows creased. ‘No, she didn’t. Your mother thinks that your work is good. I trust her judgment. Let’s call it an investment. If you win, I save money. If you lose, you still win because I’ll end up paying the fees for art school. Besides, it might be good to do something other than work. Go for it.’
Later that night I called Willow. ‘You should enter too. Your work is much better than mine.’
‘Don’t underestimate your talent, Steph. It sounds awesome, I’d love to give it a go.’
Chapter Twelve
‘YOU’RE TIRED,’ SAID Mum, with worry in her eyes, as we made our way towards Dr Wong’s office.
‘I didn’t sleep too well.’
Mum stopped walking. ‘Are you sick?’
I didn’t want to tell her that I couldn’t get Katie Marks out of my head. ‘No, I’m fine.’
As Mum and I entered Dr Wong’s waiting room, Mr and Mrs Thompson were on their way out. Mr Thompson was a bit younger than Mum, and he was also on the heart transplant list, but this was his third year.
‘The boys aren’t here today?’ asked Mum, turning to the toy corner where they’d usually sit to play.
‘Kindergarten,’ said Mr Thompson. ‘You’re looking good, Kim.’
‘So are you,’ said Mum, which was a huge lie because his face was sunken, and black shadows circled his blue eyes.
Janice popped her head around the corner. ‘Steph, I’m free if you want to see me early?’
‘I’ll be all right, you go,’ said Mum, picking up a magazine.
Janice opened her door and I walked in. ‘You’ve lost a bit of weight, Steph,’ she said, sounding like a recording of Libby.
‘If you like, I’ll invite you over for dinner to taste Dad’s cooking.’
Janice laughed. ‘That bad?’
‘Worse than bad.’
Janice reached up and swept her fake blonde fringe away from her eyes. ‘Is your mum well?’
‘She sleeps a lot,’ I informed her.
‘How have you been?’
I decided to cut through the pleasantries. ‘There’s a huge chance that Mum might not get a heart transplant, isn’t there?’
My eyes locked on Janice’s, making it difficult for her to turn away. ‘Why do you ask?’ Her hand gestured to the chair opposite.
I chose to stay standing. ‘Stats on the organ donor website say there are more recipients than donors.’
‘Focusing on the negative doesn’t help. You need to stay positive, if not for yourself, for your mother.’
I held my head in my hands to stop my brain from exploding. ‘But what if Mum’s one of the unlucky ones?’ I said, and started pacing.
‘I’d love nothing more than to tell you that your mother will receive a heart transplant and that everything is going to work out, but it’s just not possible.’
‘That’s not good enough,’ I snapped, and realised that our sessions were wasting her time and mine. If my mum was going to live, I needed to take control. I made my way to the door.
Janice stood. ‘Steph, wait, we still have time.’
I stopped and narrow
ed my eyes. ‘Don’t you mean we’re running out of time? I won’t stand by and watch my mum slowly die. I know it’s not your fault, but it’s not fair. It’s just too hard.’
I stood in the corridor with my back against the wall. My chest tightened with the sound of the lift door opening. I hurried in and pressed the button for the ICU. When the door closed, I stared into the mirrored wall. ‘It’s up to you, Stephanie Conner,’ I told my reflection.
I stepped out of the lift and stood outside the doors of the ICU. Unlike other wards in the hospital, you needed to push a button to gain entry, which meant I had to wait for a visitor to arrive or leave if I wanted to go in unnoticed. I held my phone and started pacing, knowing that if I was recognised, my chance of helping my mum would be over. The lift bell sounded, a couple of young doctors strolled out, chatting, and when one made eye contact with me, I freaked. I put the phone to my ear, pretending to be in conversation, and started walking. ‘Yes, they said that Dad should be home later today.’ I nodded. ‘That’s right.’ I checked over my shoulder to see that the doctors were gone.
Soon after, the lift bell sounded again. I moved aside to let a small group of people out and walked behind them, unnoticed. My pulse raced as I waited for them to gain entry, and when the doors flung open, I followed them into the room. Taking a deep breath of hope, I went in search of Katie, with no way of knowing if I was too late.
Like before, the machines flashed and beeped, and the doctors and nurses rushed back and forth.
I recognised one of the doctors standing at the end of an old guy’s bed, filling out a chart. The doctor had been in the ICU when Mum was last admitted. I lowered my head and kept walking. A big part of me knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I kept telling myself that I needed to do this to save Mum. I just needed time with Katie’s parents to explain how sick my mum was, and hopefully, they’d understand and help her live.
A nurse brushed past and quickly backtracked. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
I panicked. ‘Katie Marks.’
‘Are you family?’ My brain froze. ‘Family?’ she repeated.
‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ I croaked.
Her face changed from serious to sincere. ‘I’m sorry.’ She pointed me in the direction of the glass cubicle ahead. My legs started to shake.
‘Thanks,’ I said, willing my feet to keep on walking.
An old woman and man sat in chairs and others were gathered around a bed. A vein in my neck started pulsating. I put my hand on my neck, willing it to stop.
I couldn’t see Katie beyond the gathering of people, but I could see a woman, who I assumed was her mother, sitting on the bedside, reaching forward. A man was standing, rubbing the back of her light-blue cardigan.
The sound of a nurse’s tray hitting the floor drew the man’s attention to me. Our eyes met, pulling me into his sadness, and I realised that I was nothing more than an intruder, and what I was doing was selfish and wrong. I backed away from the glass, bolting in the direction in which I had arrived. The urgency of getting out of there made my breathing erratic.
‘Are you all right, love?’ a nurse called, but I didn’t stop. Outside the doors of the ICU, I stood with my hand on the wall, head down, hyperventilating, holding back the need to vomit.
The doors opened and the man, whom I assumed was Katie’s father, came out into the corridor. I gulped air like a fish out of water and started walking in the opposite direction. ‘Excuse me,’ I heard him call, and froze. Taking a deep breath, I slowly faced him, ready to apologise.
He walked up to me. ‘Did you know Katie?’ he asked.
Short of telling the truth, I couldn’t see a way out. I put my hand out between us. ‘I’m sorry for intruding on your family. It was insensitive of me.’
‘No, please,’ he insisted, ‘Katie would like to have a friend say goodbye. Please come.’ He reached out for my hand, giving me no choice but to take it.
Katie’s father led me across the room to the woman in the cardigan sitting on the edge of the bed. She smiled up at me, but her eyes swam with tears. She stood up and backed away from Katie, making room for me. The two older people moved aside as I inched my way closer.
Every second that followed was surreal. Katie was no older than me. She had bruises on her pale face, and a white band was wrapped neatly around her small head. Her long black hair was held back with a length of pale pink ribbon that swept over the band and tied in a neat bow on top of her head. I was captivated by her youthful beauty, too afraid to talk, and fearful that her eyes would open and I’d be caught out. When I put my hand on Katie’s, a comforting hand squeezed my shoulder. I glanced up to see Katie’s mother nodding as if giving me the approval to say goodbye. And to my surprise, I did.
‘Katie, you’re not alone,’ I whispered, thinking of Michael. I realised how hard this was for her family. Seeing their pain was my punishment for intruding.
As I faced Katie’s parents, my throat ached with sadness. ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘for sharing Katie’s last moments with me, and I sincerely apologise for my intrusion. She’ll be missed by all of her friends.’ Finally, I’d said something that wasn’t a big fat lie. I turned and made my way towards the doors, and once outside I went fleeing back to Mum.
‘How did your meeting go with Janice?’ asked Mum.
I sensed by her voice that they hadn’t spoken since I took off from Janice’s office. ‘I don’t think that my time with Janice is worth cutting classes for.’
Mum flagged a taxi. ‘We’ll discuss it further after school.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss.’
‘Would you tell me if Janice said something that upset you?’
‘She didn’t upset me. We just go over the same old stuff.’
Before I exited the taxi in front of the school gate, I reached across the seat and hugged Mum. ‘Have a good day.’
She hugged me back. ‘You too.’
It was a relief to arrive at school knowing that lunch was over. As I made my way to class, I promised myself that I wouldn’t share what I had done, and mentally crossed my heart.
The last period dragged on like a bad date. I stretched my legs out as far as I could, but it didn’t stop them from aching. I pushed away from my desk to be excused when a well-groomed prefect knocked on the open door, and walked over to our teacher, Miss Scully. The two exchanged a few words, nothing audible. Miss Scully left her desk and headed in my direction. I glanced over my shoulder to the row behind to see that they were looking at me.
‘Stephanie,’ said Miss Scully, ‘you can pack up for the day. Bring your bag and meet me outside, please.’
I could see Katie’s family gathered around her bed, playing like a movie in my head: the tubes in her mouth, the sounds of her breathing apparatus, the leads, the flashing lights. Someone had seen me; I was being brought to account. I deserved to be punished.
‘Yes, Miss Scully,’ I said, and she started taking things from the top of my desk, handing them to me to place in my backpack. When I slipped my arms through the straps everything was heavy – not the pack, but the air, my feet, and my guilt.
As I made my way towards the door, the classroom went quiet, and their focus was on me.
‘You’re needed in the principal’s office,’ whispered Miss Scully.
The prefect took long strides across the path and, like a small child, I had to run to keep up.
We were halfway across the school grounds when I spotted Grandad’s Bentley in the visitor’s parking area. From that moment on my world moved in slow motion.
‘Wait here,’ the prefect ordered, stopping short of Principal Cooke’s door. When the door opened, I could see Aunt Cass sitting on one of two chairs opposite the principal’s desk.
‘You can go in,’ the prefect informed me, but I couldn’t move.
‘Why is my aunt here?’ I asked, willing my body to stop shaking.
‘Stephanie, it’s all good,’ she said, taking my hand, guiding me into the of
fice like a blind girl.
I stood in front of Aunt Cass and tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. ‘They have a donor,’ she said. I freed my hand and fell into her arms.
Chapter Thirteen
THE TRIP TO the hospital was like being stuck between a dream and a nightmare. I sat gazing out the window, unprepared for the storm that lay ahead.
Aunt Cass placed her hand on mine. I had a trillion questions, but they were twisted in my throat like a large knot.
‘Hey, there’s no reason to be worried,’ Aunt Cass reassured me. ‘Your mum’s in excellent hands. She’ll breeze through the operation. She’s a fighter.’
If only she knew how much I wanted that to be true.
I’d always imagined that the call from the heart transplant unit would happen in the middle of the night, not during the school day. I had prepared myself for the scenario of Mum’s phone ringing, Dad bursting into my bedroom to wake me, followed by a dash like you see in the movies when a husband is rushing his wife to the hospital to have a baby. But nothing went to plan in our family.
When I closed my eyes, Katie’s face flashed through my mind, and every hair on my body electrified with the thought that she might be Mum’s donor …
Warm tears filled my eyes. If Katie was the donor, I couldn’t begin to grasp what her parents and family were going through. I’ll never know for certain because they never reveal the donor to the recipient or their family.
The events of the morning plagued my thoughts. I hated myself for what transpired in the ICU and for running out on Janice. She had only ever shown kindness to our family.
A Land Rover cut in front of us. I zoomed in on the stickers on the back window of a mum, dad, boy, girl, dog, and a cat: a perfect family.
When Aunt Cass took the parking ticket and started steering Grandad’s Bentley to level orange, I thought of the movie Groundhog Day.
I was ready to face the claustrophobic lift, the disgusting smell of worn rubber and disinfectant, the words: welcome to shit creek. It was weird knowing that all the waiting was finally going to be over.
When we arrived at reception, Janice was there to greet us. ‘Steph,’ she said, ‘a big day,’ which was an understatement. ‘How are you?’
