by N. R. Walker
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I asked.
Dane took my hand. “I’m sure she will.” Whether he believed it or just said it to make me feel better, I wasn’t sure.
“Thank God Wicket was there,” I mumbled.
Dane smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yeah. He’s pretty smart.”
“If it weren’t for him, I’d hate to think what would have happened to Bernice.”
“She’ll be okay,” he offered, but the truth was, that was something he just couldn’t know.
We arrived at the ER and were told she was being seen by the doctors and that we would have to sit and wait. So, we sat and we waited. And if the drive to the hospital took ages, being in that God-awful waiting room felt like an eternity. We sat in the plastic chairs and stared at the scuffed wall opposite us. “Do they make these chairs uncomfortable on purpose?” I griped, shifting in my seat again. It didn’t help that we were still wearing our boardies and I had sand in places it didn’t strictly belong.
Dane gave me a sympathetic smile. “I think so.”
“And why do all hospitals smell like hospital food and disinfectant and vomit?”
I was being testy and he, with the patience of a saint, took my hand. “She’ll be okay.”
“Can you believe she’s some world-famous surfer chick from the seventies?” I asked.
He nodded and smiled. “You know what? I really can.”
“I knew she’d lived an interesting life, but I had no idea.” I sighed. “I guess when you think you know someone, you really don’t.”
Dane squeezed my hand and nudged his arm into mine. “Yes, you do. She’s probably told you more about the real her than she has anyone else.”
I thought about that, closed my eyes and let my head fall back, but I never let go of his hand.
“And I reckon I know you pretty well,” he murmured. “Even though we haven’t known each other all that long, we know each other, don’t we?”
Still leaning against the wall behind me, I turned my head to look at him. “Yeah, I reckon we do.”
Then a woman in scrubs came out into the waiting room and everyone paused, waiting… She read the sheet of paper in her hand. “Griffin Burke?”
Dane and I both stood. “That’s me,” I said.
“You can come through now,” she said, leading us through the triage doors. We followed her down a hall of cubicles and she stopped at one near the end and put her hand on the curtain. She gave us a nod and told us in a curt tone, “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Bernice lay in bed, looking different from the Bernice I was used to seeing. She had tubes taped to her hand, monitor pads stuck to her chest, she was pale, and her grey hair lay in waves around her shoulders. She appeared softer somehow. K sat in a chair beside the bed, and the poor guy looked like he’d had ten years taken off him.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Up for visitors?”
Bernice smiled. “I told them they best go find you.”
“How’re you feeling?” I asked.
“Better now,” she said, though considering she’d been unconscious before, that was hardly surprising.
“What did the doc say?” I pressed.
“Blood sugar.” Bernice rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“She’s not fine,” K said. “She almost died. She’ll need daily injections now. If she’d been home alone and no one had found her, she would have died.” Then he looked to her. “You were lucky Wicket the dog was keeping an eye on you.”
Bernice smiled at us. “Yes, I hear he’s our little hero.”
“Do you remember anything?” Dane asked.
Bernice shook her head. “I wasn’t feeling too great, but you know, we just soldier on.”
“You should have said something,” K said before I could.
Bernice went to wave her hand, but it was attached to an IV and she stopped, letting her hand fall back to the bed. She sighed loudly instead.
“What’re they doing with you?” I asked. “Do you have to stay?”
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Sleepovers just aren’t what they used to be.”
“Do you need me to grab you anything from home?” I asked. “I can bring it back.”
“Oh, that’s really sweet of you,” she said.
“I can grab it,” K said softly. “I’m coming back anyway.” Then K looked to us. “If you boys can take me home, then I can come back with a few of her things.”
“You don’t need to fuss,” she said, her brow creasing.
K scowled at her. “You can stop being so stubborn. I’ll fuss if I want to bloody fuss.”
She tsked and rolled her eyes. “Still the same after all these years.”
“And so are you,” he bit back at her. “You’d think after fifty-something years, you’d stop being so damn stubborn.”
“You’d think after fifty-something years, you’d know when to quit.”
K didn’t reply to that, and it was pretty obvious to everyone that her words had hurt him. They clearly had so much history, and I wasn’t sure what to make of their bickering.
A doctor came in and read a printout from one machine she was hooked up to. “So, I hear a world-famous surfer is in today?” he asked, giving Bernice a smile.
Her eyes darted to mine like it was a secret she didn’t want me to hear. “I already know,” I said. “Dane told me.”
She looked at Dane, then back to me, then to the doctor. “Well, don’t go telling anyone,” she barked at him. “I don’t need no one sniffing around me for a story, especially when I’m in here.”
The doctor—or was he a nurse? I wasn’t sure—pretended to lock his lips and throw away a key, then did another pin prick test on her finger. He seemed happy with the results. “Okay, we’ve got you a room upstairs. We’re gonna get you moved soon, okay?”
She grumbled something just as K said, “Well, Doc, she won’t listen to me about someone watching over her, so maybe you can talk some sense into her.” K stood up and walked out. “I’ll wait outside.”
Bernice frowned and the doctor gave her a lecture, I assumed not for the first time, about how it was a good idea, just while she got used to the insulin injections, that someone be there to watch over her.
“I don’t need no goddamn babysitter,” she barked, then she clammed up.
He obviously knew when a battle couldn’t be won. He patted her hand. “We’ll chat later.”
So, yes, she was being stubborn. I felt kind of awkward just standing there, but I had to do something… “K just wants to help,” I offered.
“Well, I’ve managed this long on my own. I can manage another sixty bloody years on my own.”
I didn’t need to explain the maths. I knew what she meant. “He was worried sick today. He was scared, Bernice.” I frowned. “Like really scared.”
“He’ll get over it,” she added defiantly. Then she sniffed. “He wants me to move in with him or him with me. I don’t know. I turned him down.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Her eyes shot to mine. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”
“Well that explains the look on his face.”
“What look?”
“The look that he’d just had his heart broken.”
She blinked and went to say something but decided against it and pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Now, I don’t know him too well, but I’d say there’s a good chance he’s been in love with you for fifty-something years.”
She frowned and looked away, and I had to remember that she was in hospital, rather unwell. “He doesn’t need to be spending his life looking after a cripple,” she whispered.
“You’re hardly a cripple,” I replied.
She rolled her slack shoulder and her left arm moved clumsily. “Ain’t real friggin’ useful, either.”
Oh Jesus. “Is that why you keep turning him away? Because you think you’re not able-bodied enough?”
“I’m not who I used to be
. Haven’t been her for a long time.”
“Bullshit.” Her eyes went wide and I stared right back at her. “You’re still you.”
“He fell in love with the surfer-girl all those years ago. Not the one-armed girl.”
“No,” I said softly. “He fell in love with the girl. Do you think he’d have stuck around all these years if he hadn’t?”
She frowned, a little teary, and turned her head.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to upset you.”
She waved me off with her good arm.
I took a deep breath. “Anyway, K’s coming back with your stuff. Is there anything I can tell him to grab you?”
She shook her head sadly. “Just a nightgown or something. And a cardigan. The fucking air conditioning in here is frightful. You’d think they’re getting me ready for the fridge slab in the morgue.”
I gave her a smile. “Okay.” I patted the blanket over her shin. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And next Monday, if you’re up for it, we can do surfing lesson attempt number two. Now that I know I’m getting lessons from the best.”
“Oh, shut up.” She pulled the blanket up a bit. “And tell K to bring me a brownie.”
“Bernice! You’re in here because of your sugar levels.”
“Half a brownie then.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll pass the message on to K. But if he chooses to bring one or not, that’s up to him.”
She glared daggers at me. “Tell him to come see me.” Then her tone softened, as did the look in her eyes. “Can you go get him for me, please. I have something I need to tell him.”
Dane pulled on my arm. “Sure thing.”
“We’ll come and see you tomorrow, okay?” I said.
She smiled sadly and nodded. “I’d like that. Despite you being a pain in my arse.”
I laughed and waved goodbye, and we found K sitting outside the main entrance. He looked calmer, even a little resigned, but he stood when he saw us.
“She wants to see you before we leave,” I told him. “We’ll wait right here.” And you could see it, the flicker of hope in his eyes before he raced back inside.
“They’d be really cute together,” Dane said, “if she’d give him a chance.”
“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? I mean, I’m pretty sure he’d move heaven and earth to make her happy, but she doesn’t think she’s worthy.”
“It is sad,” he agreed, “that she might have wasted all those years by not telling him the truth.”
Something solidified in Dane’s eyes and he was about to say something else, but people walked past and he looked at them instead.
I pulled him over to an unoccupied bench seat. “What’s up?”
He squeezed my hand. “I really like what you told Bernice in there. It was sweet.”
“It was true.”
He nodded. “Yes, it was.” He looked down at our joined hands and his eyebrows knitted together. “Griffin, I—”
“There you are,” K said, interrupting us. He was smiling from ear to ear. “Dunno what you said to her, but she wants to talk… about everything when I get back.”
I stood up and grinned at him. “That’s great! And I didn’t really say much at all. Her hang-ups have nothing to do with you, you know that right? It’s not that she thinks you’re not good enough. It’s about her. She thinks she’s not good enough.”
“Oh, son. I’ve known that for as long as you’ve been alive.”
Dane stood up and clapped K’s arm. “Then we better get you home so you can hurry and get back here.”
K beamed, his grey hair and wiry beard catching the sun like steel wool. “Yeah. God forbid, I keep her waiting fifty years or anything.”
I laughed at that, and we walked to my car. Dane drove again, and when we’d gone a few blocks, I turned and looked back at K. “Is she really Bunny Warren?”
K gave me a knowing smile. “I could tell you some wild stories about her, but she’d kill me.”
“She’s told me a few stories of her travels and that she could surf and skate, but I never clued in that she was famous.” The corner of my mouth pulled down. “To be honest, the name only kind of rings a bell with me. I’ll have to google her when I get home.”
“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” K said, then he sighed. “She is the one and only Bernice Warren, nicknamed Bunny because of the rabbit warren thing. She hated it at first, but then she found it gave her some separation from the fame. She could be Bernice on paper and no one knew who that was.” He looked out the window for a moment, obviously remembering something. “We met in 1979, and we’ve been inseparable since.”
“And you’ve been in love with her since then,” I concluded.
“Since that very first day. She was this tiny thing with long blonde hair, carrying a board twice as big as her, and she was giving some guy from Argentina a lecture on wave etiquette. I think he cut her off a wave at Bondi, and by God, she was giving it to him.” He sighed again. “I’d never seen anything more beautiful in all my life.”
I smiled at Dane and he grinned right back at me. “Did you travel with her?” I asked K.
He nodded. “All over. I wasn’t as good as her. Not many of us blokes were. She was better than most of us combined, but the world wasn’t what it is today. The generation she was born into robbed her of world titles.” He shook his head and his smile became rueful. “Didn’t stop her from speaking up though. She pushed the boundaries and challenged the officials to get a start on the pro-circuit. There was nothing written back then to say women couldn’t surf…”
I grinned at that. “So she hasn’t changed, then?”
“She hasn’t changed at all,” K said. “Even after the skin cancer… She had the surgery and had to have some treatments, and she lost her hair… She was still beautiful. But the nerve damage to her arm was irreparable.” He shrugged. “She lost some spark after that.”
“She called herself a cripple,” I admitted.
He shook his head fiercely. “She’s anything but that.”
“That’s what I told her,” I said.
He sighed again and stared out the window for a bit. “She’s so bloody stubborn.”
“Oh, and she wants you to bring in a brownie,” I added.
He rolled his eyes but it gave way to a chuckle. “So bloody stubborn. If diabetes thinks for one second it’ll stop her, it’s got another thing coming.”
We dropped him back at his car at the beach car park and drove back to my place. K pretty much followed us into the drive.
“Tell her we said hello,” I said.
“Will do.” He gave us a salute and hurried in through the front door.
Dane and I went round the back and trudged up the stairs and found Wicket sound asleep on his spot on the sofa. He greeted us sleepily, happily, and we let him out to pee, and just as we were about to close the door and shut the world out, K called out to us and took the stairs two at a time. “Here. I’m not taking her a full one, she can have half. You guys can have the other half.” He handed over the brownie and was gone with a wave.
I closed the door and put the half-brownie on the kitchen counter. “Um…”
Dane shrugged. “We could order pizza, have that, and watch the kids’ cartoon channel.”
I laughed. “I guess we could.” Then I grinned at him. “Or we could each have half now and crash on the sofa.” I broke it in half and handed him his. Then I planted my arse on the couch and grinned at him.
He watched me for a second, then joined me on the sofa. “Wait, before you eat that, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dane
* * *
“What is it?” Griffin asked. He put his half of the brownie back on the coffee table. “You’ve been kinda quiet since the hospital. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I blew out a breath. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking. A lot. And today kinda broug
ht it home, ya know?”
He took my hand but chuckled. “Um, no, not really. You want to tell me something?”
I took a deep breath and started again. “I don’t want to be like Bernice and K.”
“What? Old potheads?” He laughed. “Or finally taking a chance at happiness?”
“Yes, no, both.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to wait fifty years because it never felt like the right time, or because I think you’re not ready to hear it, or I’ll scare you off…”
“Dane,” he murmured.
But right then, Wicket jumped up onto the coffee table, snatched up the brownie in his mouth, and hightailed it off again.
“Wicket, no!” I lunged after him, but it was too late. He’d eaten it.
Griffin stood beside me. “Will it hurt him?”
I whipped out my phone and quickly searched up if hash brownies were bad for dogs. “Um, I can’t really find… some say yes, some say no. There’s YouTube videos… What kind of idiot would tape themselves getting their dogs stoned?”
When I looked up, Griffin had Wicket under one arm and was getting his leash. “Come on. We’re going. I’ll drive. You call the emergency vet and tell them we’re on our way.”
He was already out the door, so I grabbed my keys and raced after them.
Thirty minutes later, while one vet took Wicket, Griffin and I sat there getting our arses chewed out by another.
We explained the brownie wasn’t ours. We explained we would never do anything to deliberately harm him. We explained all that, but still, she was right to be pissed. It could have been fatal. Not just the hash, but chocolate wasn’t good for dogs either.
The first vet came to tell us that Wicket would be fine and they were just running another test or two, before both vets left us alone in the waiting room, and Griffin sighed. “What a day.”
It had been one helluva day. First surfing, then Bernice passing out on the beach and being in hospital, now Wicket at the vets…
Griffin leaned in and whispered, “If someone had told me I’d be getting my arse reamed this afternoon, I would have assumed it would have been you.”
I burst out laughing just as the second vet came back in. “It’s not funny,” she said.
