by H A Dawson
‘You’re getting ahead of yourself again. Try to stay in the moment, yeah?’
I folded my arms. I was getting ahead of myself, but that was because I knew my father. Once he made his mind up about something, he’d stay with it. He liked to do things his way and didn’t always share his motives. I couldn’t see him changing now, and especially not in the circumstances.
‘Don’t forget the stress it’ll put on him too,’ he continued. ‘His heart is in a weak state.’
‘I’m not likely to forget, am I?’
‘Can’t you trust he knows what’s best for you all?’
I stilled. As far as I was concerned, Matt had made one comment too many and suspected we were talking at cross-purposes. He was no longer concerned about my inability to keep my father’s secret; he was concerned about me keeping his secret regarding the administration of drugs. I shared my thoughts.
Matt wasn’t amused and told me in a stern voice that the two subjects were dissimilar and that any decisions he took at his workplace were none of my business.
‘I care for you,’ I said in an indignant tone. ‘That makes it my business.’
‘That doesn’t give you a right to interfere in my life.’
‘I’m not interfering!’ I held an irritated stare. ‘What you’re doing is unethical, and you know it. You don’t need me to tell you that.’
‘Firstly, I’m not administering drugs. It was-’
‘Not yet,’ I interjected.
‘I was going to say that it was only a consideration. Not that it matters to you. You’ve already condemned me.’
Stiffening, I did not respond.
‘And secondly, I work in amateur sport. If I did go ahead, it’s not illegal.’
Dismayed by his narrow-mindedness, I slurped the rest of my drink, shot him a disapproving stare, and carried the empty glasses and jug to the kitchen. Matt followed on behind, and given he was wearing his jacket and carrying my father’s laptop, I determined he was leaving.
‘I can’t believe how naïve you are,’ I said. ‘You know as well as I do that Noah has the potential to go professional. And what then? If he wins for the next six years using drugs, how is he going to win without them when he turns pro? You should not be encouraging this kind of behaviour.’
‘You’re way ahead of yourself … again.’
‘Don’t tell me nothing has happened. I know it will do, otherwise, you wouldn’t be so defensive.’
‘I’m not being defensive! And even if I am, it’s not for the reasons you’re assuming, it’s because you don’t trust me.’
I ignored his comment. ‘You should be telling him to improve his fitness and strength and not providing him with short cuts.’
‘He’s too young for that. It has to be about enjoyment.’
‘So giving him the tools to win makes it a more enjoyable process.’ I studied his tetchy expression. ‘Do you realise how crass that sounds?’
‘Are you saying winning isn’t enjoyable?’
I folded my arms. ‘You’re not teaching him anything with drugs.’
He progressed to the outer door. Clearly, he’d had enough.
I chased after him. ‘I’m surprised at you Matt. You’re better than this. His father has got into your ear, hasn’t he?’
‘I can think for myself.’ He opened the door and passed me a sad look. ‘I’ll call you later.’
I didn’t respond, pulled shut the door, and returned indoors.
My argument with Matt was another burden for me to bear and I felt as though my life was collapsing around me. Whilst wallowing in sorrow, I wondered if I should have avoided saying anything. It certainly would have been better for my current state of mind; there again, I dreaded the thought of him being labelled as a coach who recommended drug use, whether it occurred now or in years to come.
I didn’t want to allow anymore time for thinking about it. To improve my mental state, I decided to have a girl’s night in, and once I’d confirmed my plans with Ebony, I invited Shona and Marie to our house after work. Both women were nurses who had until recently lived in our shared accommodation. We used to have a hoot and I missed them dearly, especially during trying times.
Tonight was the night. I finished my shift on the ward, and as prearranged, I progressed to Oncology to meet Ebony. As I waited for the lift, I scanned the board listing the various hospital departments and noticed a sign for Cardiac Care. I hadn’t visited Dad since I’d learned about Bex and it caused a wave of guilt to wash over me. I was going to have to visit him soon even if it I didn’t speak to him about Bex. For now, I wasn’t going to allow Dad’s poor state of health or my argument with Matt to ruin my plans, and blocked them both from my mind and stepped into the lift.
Minutes later, I entered the ward. Since I couldn’t spot Ebony, I asked one of the other nurses where she was and learned she was in a ward halfway along the corridor. I resolved to go to see what she was doing and strode to the relevant room. As I approached the door, the sound of laughter coming from within widened my face into a smile. I loved seeing or hearing happy people, especially in a workplace that could be as gloomy as ours could be. Patients with cancer, and in particular those with terminal cancer, had every reason to feel depressed. The fact that some of them weren’t that way should give everyone hope.
Ebony was one of those who had been sharing a moment of humour, as I recognised her laughter. It seemed as though she had been sharing a joke with a young woman whom she was standing beside, as tears of joy still moistened her cheeks. It was a beautiful sight and took my focus away from her bald head, sunken cheeks and pallid complexion.
Ebony welcomed me with a cheery hello then turned back to her patient. ‘Now you behave yourself. The other nurses aren’t as liberal as I am. If you’re not careful, you’ll get yourself into trouble.’
The woman grinned. ‘Not a chance. I have everyone under my control.’
We started away and once we were out of view, our eyes locked. Ebony remained amused by what had happened and shared the incident involving a spilt glass of water and a stain on the bed sheet. Whilst it brought a smile to my face, it didn’t seem especially funny. Perhaps I needed to be there.
Nevertheless, Ebony’s buoyant mood boded well for our planned evening, enhancing my belief that I had done right by putting all my problems aside in return for some lighthearted fun. My friends were always a good pick-me-up and tonight would not be the exception.
Once Ebony collected her coat and bag from a locker, we continued through the hospital to her car and travelled home. She was talking at double-speed, barely stopping for a breath of air and continued to tell me how Rosy Kestell brightened up the ward.
‘She’s a great impressionist,’ Ebony said, ‘but it’s not just that, I love the way she turns negatives into positives with jokes. When she first started losing her hair to Leukaemia, she shaved it all off and made jokes about her looking like an old man. And you know what? She does.’ She passed me a quick glance. ‘She’s not got much of a figure – probably due to her illness – and her face shape seems more male than female.’
‘I can’t say I noticed.’
‘Trust me, she does. Thing is, she puts on a masculine walk and mannerisms, and deepens her voice, and well … you could be forgiven for getting her gender wrong.’
I smiled. She sounded like a fun person to be around.
‘The other day she borrowed one of the doctor’s jackets when he had his back turned and then started imitating him behind his back.’
‘She sounds full of energy. Did you say she has Leukaemia?’
She nodded. ‘Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. She’s undergoing a few problems with the treatment plan. You wouldn’t know it from what I’ve said, but she’s actually very sick. Her humour is her way of dealing with it.’
‘Is it an aggressive cancer type?’
‘Very. It is treatable and often curable, but as you know in this business, there are no guarantees. We’re all hoping for t
he best for her right now. I know you shouldn’t have favourites, but when someone brightens your day the way she does, you can’t help it.’
I agreed. ‘So what’s caused her stay in hospital?’
‘Because she was so sick at diagnosis, they opted for non-intensive chemotherapy. She was okay the first time, but then a few days ago she reacted badly. We’re all keeping our figures crossed it’ll work because if it doesn’t, she’ll need another type of treatment, and possibly bone marrow or stem cell transplants.’ She shot me a quick look. ‘She has a rare tissue type. Getting a donor will be hard.’
‘That’s not good. Has she any brothers or sisters?’
She said not then indicated right and drove the car onto our road. We had a policy of not bringing our work home except in extreme circumstances, so I knew our conversation would end upon our arrival home. And I was right; it did. As soon as Ebony parked the car, she made a comment about how she had dulled my mood and then turned our thoughts to our planned evening.
I was grateful for the swift change of subject. She was correct in that she had made me feel a bit gloomy, but it wasn’t her fault. I had been asking her questions about her patient, and it was right for me to do that. I couldn’t ignore something that was important to her, just as she didn’t ignore things important to me. She was forever asking me about my father and my relationship with Matt, and even though I sometimes felt they were subjects best forgotten, I needed to speak about them occasionally.
However, I wasn’t intending to do so tonight. I wanted to have fun and focused entirely on completing our food and drink preparations before we progressed upstairs to shower and change.
Afterwards, I was applying a little bit of makeup when Ebony caught sight of me from the landing and stepped into my room.
‘You won’t get rid of your wrinkles that way,’ she said.
I feigned annoyance. ‘I do not have wrinkles!’
‘You should have with all the drinking you do.’
‘And you shouldn’t?’ I cast a twisted smile. ‘I reckon it’s a myth that alcohol accelerates the ageing process. I would definitely feel much older if I was teetotal.’
‘Feeling old and looking old are different things.’
‘So, Miss Perfect, I take it you’re not imbibing tonight.’
She grinned. ‘I’ll be off the alcohol tomorrow.’
‘What, for one day?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Half a day, maybe.’
‘That would be right. You can’t resist it in the same way that I can’t-’
Ebony broke me off. ‘Resist a hot man?’
I gawped. ‘I am not like that.’
‘Okay, so dump Matt the way you intended, and stay single for one month. And that means no one night stands too.’
‘I never said I was going to dump Matt.’
‘You’re not happy with him.’
‘I am,’ I said, forcing a convincing tone.
‘I don’t believe you. When was the last time you had a night of hot sex?’
‘That’s personal!’
‘Like hell it is! These walls are so thin I can hear everything. And the squeaking bed doesn’t help either.’
My skin warmed. Ebony may be a good friend, but the thought of her listening into my intimate moments was not a pleasing thought.
‘You and Matt are more like brother and sister than lovers, and I think it’s killing you. Get rid of him, babe.’
I passed a twisted smile. ‘He’s serving a purpose.’
Ebony was displaying her curiosity when the doorbell sounded.
‘Saved by the bell,’ I said grinning, and weaved past and progressed downstairs.
Shona and Marie were already in the kitchen when I arrived. Shona was checking out the food in the oven and on plates in the fridge, and Marie was trying a spoonful of one of my favourite punches. As I poured out the drinks, we shared a few light-hearted comments then progressed to the lounge.
Shona was amidst her wedding preparations with Justin, and Marie was getting used to living with her partner, Lance, and his Aunt. I had not seen her looking more radiant and assumed her decision to move out to have been a good one.
A warm glow spread across her face. ‘I’ve never been so happy. We’re looking for our own place now.’
‘Really? That’s great news. I take it Lance is in good health.’
‘He’s getting better every day.’
Lance had terminal cancer, and when Marie met him again after a few years apart, she advised he tried adopting an alternative cancer treatment plan. I knew I would have struggled to adhere to it since it removed alcohol and junk foods from the diet as well as other things, but to his credit, he adhered to a regimented approach and it was working well. It had been an impressive turnaround.
‘I heard about your father,’ Marie said. ‘I’m so sorry. How’s he doing?’
Whilst I was appreciative of her consideration, I didn’t wish to share the doom and gloom and kept my response brief. She seemed to understand, and soon, with the formalities out of the way, the fun started.
Throughout the course of the next couple of hours, we drank, ate, and laughed about the most ridiculous of things, things that in a sober state I doubted would have even raised a smile. Yet it didn’t matter. We were all equally intoxicated, and we all wanted the same thing; we wanted to enjoy ourselves.
I was grateful to have finally removed my father, Bex, and Matt from my mind, and I felt carefree and happier than I had been for days. Giving it brief consideration, I wished to remain in this state forever, but as was always the case, the good times couldn’t last. I guess, if they did, they would be no comparisons and the joyous times may even seem bland. However, right at that moment, as I absorbed the pleasure noticeable on Ebony, Shona and Marie’s faces as they shared a joke, it seemed an extreme thought.
The musical tone on my mobile phone interrupted my thoughts. I considered ignoring it but given my father’s critical condition, I felt compelled to check it. It was Matt, and given our dispute a couple of days earlier and the fact we’d barely spoken since it had happened, I didn’t believe he was passing time. Choosing to answer, I strode from the room for some privacy.
My speech must have sounded a bit slurred as he asked me if I’d been drinking. Had I not had as much as I had, I may have felt offended; as it was, I asked him if he was jealous. He said he wasn’t, although I could tell he was irritated I’d asked and it allowed me an opportunity to poke fun. After I’d made several comments, he told me I was being immature, but then forgave me, telling me that it was the alcohol speaking.
I stopped myself from saying to him that my punch didn’t have a voice box.
He interrupted my thoughts. ‘I rang to tell you that I’ve been fixing your father’s computer.’
‘Bo-ring.’
‘Kelly,’ he said stiffly. ‘Will you please listen to me for one minute? I have something important to tell you.’
‘If I have to.’
‘I’m doing you a favour here, believe it or not.’
I did not reply and glanced at Ebony passing me by and pulling a face. I stifled a giggle and waved her away.
‘I’ve managed to restore your father’s email account,’ he continued. ‘Your father has been trying to track down Bex Chapman.’
‘What?’ Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so drunk. ‘What else do you know?’
‘Not much. He’s sent an email out to someone – unfortunately, their account name is letters and numbers rather than a name – so I don’t know who he’s been talking to.’
‘Are there any replies?’
‘No, not yet. I’ll keep you informed. I’ve not yet got it fixed, but when I do, I’ll drop it in.’
‘Okay, and thanks.’
‘Have you spoken to your father yet?’
‘No, I’ll be going tomorrow.’
‘Tell me how it goes,’ he said.
I said I would and we ended the call. I was stunned. I
had spent hours feeling jealous and bitter about Dad’s relationship with Bex, yet there had never been one. Matt had been right; I had been worrying for nothing.
Optimistic thoughts filled my mind. Dad hadn’t lied and he hadn’t been secretly spending time with his other daughter. I had no reason to be angry with him, nor should I feel betrayed. Bex might not even be his child. There was every chance that their relationship was something else. I should be happy.
Nevertheless, in spite of my intoxicated state, alarm bells rang in my mind. It seemed a crazy thing to happen, and I wasn’t certain why it had. Perhaps my doubts would become clearer once I was sober. Until then, I was going to enjoy the rest of my evening. I could always rely on my friends to bring me joy. They would never let me down.
Chapter 5
My head throbbed the following day, which was not surprising considering the amount I’d drunk. Nevertheless, as I reflected on the hours of laughter I’d shared with my friends, which continued into the night, I knew it had been worth it. Appreciative, I glanced at Ebony lounging on the sofa with a book and drew her attention. Over the following few minutes, we chatted and giggled about the funnier moments we’d shared before she asked about my visit to my father.
I regretted the change of subject. ‘I’m not sure I’m up to it. I’m knackered.’
‘Is there a reason you’re putting it off?’
I hadn’t told her about Bex and the presumed relationship she had with my father and considered speaking out. Nevertheless, as I formulated my speech in my mind and heard my whiny voice, I reconsidered. I didn’t wish to revert to my gloomy state; I wanted the benefits of our evening to last as long as possible.
‘Dad told me I didn’t need to visit every day,’ I said, ‘so I haven’t.’
‘I presume he’s doing all right.’
I nodded. ‘He’s better than he was, but he’s not stable enough to return home. His cardiologist is not confident that his medication is working as well as it should be.’
‘Do you think they’ll try something else?’
