by Wells, Nicky
“Rach, it’s so amazing. We’ve not even done anything, obviously, we’ve talked and he’s like my soul mate. He reads me. Like he’s known me forever. Tim and I, we got dating and it was lovely and comfortable and all that, and romantic to start with, but there was never that connection. Ever. And Dan, well, that was a whirlwind of excitement and romance and—”
“Sex,” Rachel interrupted.
“—and that, too,” I whispered, as if all the other patients on the ward might have heard her. “It was all of that, and he did know me really well, and still does, but it was different somehow.”
“Are you sure that’s not the anesthetics talking?” Rachel probed gently, adding teasingly, “You do sound mildly delusional, you know.”
“Do I?” I giggled. “Steve keeps telling me the same thing. Not about being delusional, but about the anesthetics and medicines clouding my judgment. But I don’t know, I feel lucid. I don’t feel great, physically, and I’m really tired and woozy and wobbly. Yet lying here, resting, I feel my head is clear and my thoughts are there.”
“Hm.” Rachel mused doubtfully.
“Anyway,” I continued, “Steve is keeping the brakes on until I’m better. He hasn’t said, but I can feel it. And even so, it’s there, that weird magic, that knowing each other. That rightness.”
“Hm.” Rachel said again.
“Will you stop ‘hm-ing’ me?” I demanded,
“Okay,” Rachel yielded. “It just all sounds so lovely. I’ll have to come down and meet this man as soon as possible, I suppose.” She sounded like the big brother I didn’t have.
“When will you come back?” I pounced.
“Probably next week, or the week after. I’ve got a few projects to wrap up here, but I’m all better and…what was that you said just now?” Rachel paused as though collecting her thoughts. When she went on, I could practically see her making a Sophie-face as she was talking. “I feel lucid. My head is clear and my thoughts are there.”
I snorted. “Don’t take the mickey out of an invalid, it’s unkind.”
“But I’m not,” she protested. “I do feel all there. Calm. Ready to go back and face it all. You know, my flat, the places we used to hang out… I’ve visualized them all in my mind and I can take it. So,” she adopted a Schwarzenegger voice this time, “I’ll be back. Soon.”
We shared a giggle, and I hung up. I was a little exhausted after this conversation, but I felt jubilant.
I felt even more jubilant when, during rounds the next morning, I was told that I would be discharged the next day. Thank heaven! Steve came round soon afterward and he already knew. He said he would take the day off to help me settle into my flat and wouldn’t brook any kind of argument. I was touched, and nervous. What would it be like introducing my man to my flat? How would we behave, what would we say in a private environment? It was like having first date nerves.
Steve was unperturbed. On the contrary, he was busy making arrangements to ensure that I would be comfortable. We were almost done when Dan turned up, accompanied by a young lady who looked slightly familiar. She was immaculately turned out, wearing beautiful, expensive clothes. She smiled widely and genuinely at me. Yet my heart sank. Steve meeting Dan, here, for the first time, and in the presence of this beautiful stranger...
Steve got up and extended a hand to Dan, greeting him openly.
“You must be Dan,” he said. “I’ve heard all about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
Dan grinned his big boyish smile and took Steve’s hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he drawled, then gave Steve a light matey punch on the shoulder. “You must be Steve. Good to meet you, mate,” Dan continued sincerely. He was in his best making-friends mode. I had not seen it often, but I did know this was for real. It wasn’t his I’m-nice-to-you-but-I-don’t-know-you-and-I’ll-never-see-you-again brand of friendliness. There was a brief uneasy moment as the two men eyed each other up. The unfamiliar woman broke the spell by clearing her throat and poking Dan in the ribs. Dan sprang to.
“Oh, yeah, right, of course, sorry,” he mumbled apologetically. I had rarely seen him so flustered. “Sophie, this is Jodie. Jodie, this is Sophie.” He made clumsy back-and-forth hand gestures between me and his sister, and suddenly everything became clear. I had never had an opportunity to meet any of his family before, and he was out of his comfort zone introducing us. Jodie rescued the situation gracefully.
“You social klutz,” she pronounced teasingly and playfully poked Dan in the ribs once more. “It’s a miracle to me that you’re so popular with the ladies.” Turning to me, she instructed, “Ignore him. He may be my famous older brother, but he’s got the grace of a guinea pig.”
She appropriated a chair and sat down while the men were still standing round uncertainly.
I stared in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” I burst out ungraciously, then backtracked. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. It’s lovely to meet you, only Dan said he rarely ever sees you and suddenly you’re here, of all places…”
Jodie fiddled with her handbag. “It’s crackers, I know. But I simply had to meet the owner of the Sophie dress. I’m just passing through London on my way to LA and I couldn’t resist.”
The dress, oh my God, of course!
“Thank you so much for my perfect little dress,” I gushed. “It’s divine. It’s the most amazing piece of—” Whoops, hold it, Sophie. I couldn’t call the dress a piece of clothing. I corrected myself quickly. “—the most amazing garment I’ve ever owned, or ever will. Short of a wedding gown, perhaps.” I giggled nervously. “Thank you so much, I…well, I really don’t know what to say. When they said in the shop that I could have it for nothing…”
“It was nothing,” Jodie stated simply. “I made it for you. I hoped one day you would find it, or it would find you. It did, and that made me happy.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But still…”
“How are you feeling?” Jodie whispered and cast an appraising eye over me. “You certainly don’t look your best.”
I laughed, and picked at strands of my greasy hair. “What a relief to hear someone say that,” I replied honestly. “For days, everyone has been telling me how great I look, how much better I look, but I know I’m not, and I’m desperate for a hair wash.” Jodie made to say something, but I jumped in first. “Don’t even go there. I may feel skanky, but there’s no way I feel like braving the shower yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
Jodie laughed, and I joined in. It was lovely to have some female company, somebody who instinctively knew how weird it was not to wash your hair and blow dry it and look nice day in and day out. She was totally down-to-earth and unaffected, and I had a feeling we would make great friends, given the chance. She was still pondering my beauty conundrum.
“How’s about a funky scarf or something?” she offered. “You know, the ethnic look.”
“Ah, no thanks,” I joked back. “I feel quite ethnic enough as it is.”
“What are you two girls talking about?” Dan butted in suddenly. He and Steve had been to the vending machines and brought tea and snacks for everyone.
“Lady things,” Jodie replied to his question. “Comforts and necessities.” She raised her eyebrows at Steve, rubbing her fingers across her scalp in a hair washing kind of motion. Steve caught on immediately. He set his cups and muffins down on my tray quickly and dabbed at my hair.
Right, now I really felt like an ethnic freak.
“I’m sorry, my lovely,” he said. “It never even occurred to me. That’s men for you. And I call myself a nurse.”
He looked suitably apologetic. “Shall I get it sorted for you? Because I can, if you want. It’s not a big deal at all, I—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted. “Maybe tomorrow, at home…” I let the sentence hang, my eyes darting from Steve to Dan and back.
“Good idea,” Steve concurred. “Peace and quiet and no rush. We’ll sort it tomorrow.”
Dan raised his eyebro
ws but said nothing.
“I’m getting out tomorrow,” I blabbed, almost apologetically. “Steve’s helping me settle at home. Because I’m struggling to move and bend and I’ll probably need some help and…”
Dan held up his hands, palm outwards. “It’s okay, you don’t need to explain. Steve’s filled me in on the plan.”
He had? What plan?
Steve grinned. “I did. I mean, I did tell Dan that you’ll be getting out tomorrow and that I’ll be taking you home. To your home,” he amended quickly.
I felt like I was behind some sort of glass wall, not understanding what everyone else was saying to me. “And?” I prompted uncertainly.
“And nothing,” Steve said. “Dan’s only making it sound grand.”
I noted a tone of familiarity, as though the two of them had known each other longer than ten minutes.
Steve continued talking. “It’s just that I’m taking you home. That’s it.” He took my hand as if to make a point. Dan stepped back and watched. Somehow, the moment assumed a special significance, as though a handover had taken place. Steve had stepped up, and Dan had stepped back. I could have sworn the two men exchanged a conspiratorial look.
Jodie noticed it too, because she gave me a big wink. “They’re getting on quite well, don’t you think?” she uttered in a stage whisper. “Looks like there won’t be a fight in the sandbox today.”
Dan tickled her under the chin. “Oi, don’t you go talking about your big brother like that,” he teased. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I don’t get it,” I mumbled. “I feel like I’ve missed a chapter somewhere along the line.”
Steve cleared his throat. “You have,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sort of. You see—”
“Steve and I went out for a pint that first night you were in here,” Dan elaborated. “He’d called me at home with the news that the op went well, and I think I got a bit shirty and rude on the phone, and—”
“—and I said we should meet up,” Steve picked up the thread. “I knew about Dan, of course. I mean, come on, the whole world knows about Dan.”
“Hang on,” I burst out. “All the introduction palaver earlier…‘You must be Steve,’” I mimicked for emphasis. “Why didn’t you simply say you’d met?”
The men were looking sheepish.
“Well…yes…um…it’s all mildly embarrassing, really,” Steve elaborated hesitantly. “You know?”
“I don’t know,” I challenged. “Why would it be embarrassing?”
Dan decided to ignore me. “So we went to the pub,” he went on. “And we talked. Like grown men.”
“Yeah, like grown men,” Steve repeated. Now I was getting the embarrassment factor. Jodie and I exchanged a look. I stifled a laugh; Jodie busied herself rummaging in her handbag to hide her twitching mouth.
“And that’s that,” Dan concluded lamely.
Jodie spoke up. “I think what these two imbeciles are trying to say, very clumsily, is that they met up and put their proverbial cards on the table. It will have been like this.” She pulled a face and continued in a deep, wide-boy voice. “Oi, you, you know I’ve been dating this bird. I’m not dating her anymore, but I won’t have her hurt.” She pulled a different face and assumed a slightly deeper, macho voice for Steve. “Good to know. She’s my bird now. I won’t hurt her.” And back to the wide-boy voice for Dan. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
The men stood there, open-mouthed and looking abashed.
“Yup,” Jodie confirmed. “It looks like they’ve sorted out their claims. Lucky you, to have two such adorable men looking after your well-being.”
Lucky me, indeed.
Jodie came to the rescue one final time. “Sophie is absolutely exhausted,” she observed. “Come on you guys, buzz off. You can come back later.” She made a shooing hand gesture, and the men obligingly turned to leave. Steve came back for a quick peck on the cheek, and they ambled down the corridor, shoulder to shoulder.
“I don’t believe this,” I muttered helplessly.
Jodie regarded me gravely. “Look, Dan cares deeply about you. But he knows you’re through. I think he’s trying to tell you that it’s okay to move on. He’s been a bit worried that perhaps…” she faltered, but went on bravely. “That perhaps you wouldn’t go after your new man for some weird reason to do with him. Men.” She rolled her eyes. “They think they’re the center of the universe, don’t they? Anyway, all this bravado, that’s for show. Really, he thinks Steve is a nice guy.”
“That’s great. That’s cool. But do you know, this matey stuff, that’s freaking me out,” I confessed.
“I’m not surprised,” Jodie smiled. “Just give it some time. Most importantly, give you and Steve some time. I’ll sort Dan out, don’t you worry. I know where you’re coming from. Give this new relationship some time to grow, and you’ll find a space for all your old friends, and new ones, too. Trust me.”
I smiled back. “Thank you, I needed a little pep talk. I feel a bit overwhelmed.” I sighed. “Why is life so complicated sometimes?”
Jodie took my hand. “It feels complicated now, but it won’t do, not over time. You know Dan, he’s Mr. Chilled-and-Easy-Going. He’ll come round, as will you. And Steve. You never know, one day Dan will be godfather to your children.”
I snorted disbelievingly. What a notion!
“Don’t diss it,” she said. “You wait and see. I have a good feeling about this. And now I must fly,” she declared abruptly. “Here, have this.” She pressed a card in my hands with a whole array of telephone numbers and email addresses. “Any time you need to talk, or if Dan gives you any trouble, give me a call.” She gave me bracing poke, then she rose to go. “I must dash, but you go, girlfriend.”
She blew me a kiss and she was gone.
I sank into my pillows, feeling as though I had been tumble-dried, all hot and crumpled and discombobulated.
“Give it time,” I whispered to myself. “Let it grow.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Steve arrived after breakfast the following morning. While he gathered together my things into a rucksack, I had a clumsy go at getting dressed on my bed, behind drawn curtains. All done, we waited for the discharge notice to come through, which eventually happened before lunch.
“Would you like to go home, or partake of another hospital lunch?” Steve asked with a big cheeky grin.
“Home, please,” I responded simply. I wasn’t in the mood to joke about this. All I wanted was to go home, have a bath, and wash my hair.
Steve carried the rucksack while I hobbled to the lifts. As the consultant had instructed, I had been shuffling up and down the ward several times a day, every day, and I could move reasonably well, albeit very slowly, and not for long. But I managed it to the lifts, and through the lobby, and out to a waiting taxi. Steve dumped the rucksack in the back and opened the passenger door for me, holding it wide while the driver looked on. I stood uncertainly, not sure how to get in.
Seeing my hesitation, nurse-Steve surfaced again. “Sit down with your bottom sideways on the seat…ever so gently,” he instructed and commented on my progress as I followed his advice. “Right, that’s good. Now lift your feet in…carefully, right, good. Now turn on the seat…turn your bottom…well done. And lean back, slowly. Right. There, well done.”
He gave me a big smile as he pulled the safety belt down and across.
“Here, strap yourself in, but go easy, now,” he instructed, pushing the clasp in my hand. Then he installed himself the back seat, looking at me expectantly. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I acknowledged.
Outside the flat, Steve and I stood together uncertainly for a moment. How weird that Steve had never been here before, even though we had talked about our lives as though we had always known each other. How weird that he could confidently take the key off me, unlock the front door, and lead the way into my home, carrying my belongings in his rucksack.
“You go and sit dow
n in the lounge,” Steve instructed me sternly, adopting his best staff nurse voice. “I’ll make a cup of tea.”
“I don’t want a cup of tea,” I protested. “I really, really want a bath. I feel so dirty and full of hospital grime.”
“Oh, all right, if the lady wants a bath, the lady shall have a bath,” Steve relented. “But please will you have a sit down while I run it?” So I sat down on the sofa, gingerly, while Steve ran me a bath in my bathroom in my flat.
While I reveled in the bubbles, Steve prepared a little lunch, a few sandwiches and nibbles, which he thoughtfully laid out, buffet style, on the coffee table in the lounge. He also equipped the sofa with my pillows and duvet, and pulled the telly round so I could see it better.
“Your recovery suite is equipped and prepared,” he joked as he made me lie down on the sofa.
“It’s the middle of July,” I protested. “I can’t lie around in the lounge with my duvet as though it was the middle of winter.”
“You can, and you shall,” Steve informed me dryly, then switched the telly on without further debate. He flicked through channels until he found a rerun of Magnum, PI.
“Cool,” he exclaimed involuntarily. “I used to adore Magnum.”
“Me, too,” I agreed. “Leave it on.”
Steve settled on the other, shorter prong of my L-shaped sofa and handed me a sandwich. I munched slowly, still not feeling hungry, trying to focus on the TV program and not thinking too hard about the fact that Steve was there, in my flat.
It turned out that conversation was beyond me at that point, as was TV watching. I fell asleep under the snuggly duvet before I had quite finished my sandwich.
When I woke an hour later, Steve had turned the telly off and was busy doing the cryptic crossword in the paper. There was a cup of tea on the coffee table beside him, as well as the discarded sections of his paper. He had opened one of the sash windows and a breeze was gently stirring the curtains. The tableau of domesticity and familiarity was so powerful, so comforting, that I had to catch my breath. Steve noticed me looking and flashed me one of his devastating smiles.
