by Ali Berg
‘What is it?’ Bea asked urgently.
‘It’s a shattered malleolus. I knew it!’ The doctor practically whooped, like he was a little boy who had just found a bag of biscuits in the pantry, not a doctor conveying a diagnosis.
‘What does that mean?’ Zach asked, exasperated.
‘Surgery,’ the doctor said, smiling unnervingly.
So, my search for the Mystery Writer almost killed me. Great, Bea silently berated herself for being so reckless.
The doctor clicked off the X-ray viewer. ‘You’ve got a break in two parts, looks pretty nasty from where I’m sitting. I’d suggest getting an operation as quickly as possible. Dr Richards seems to be free first thing tomorrow,’ he said nonchalantly, running his finger down the schedule on his clipboard.
‘An operation?’ Zach and Bea exclaimed in unison.
‘Yes, it’s routine, really. Dr Richards does them all the time. Mainly on elite footballers.’ He paused, looking Bea up and down. ‘But you’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about. You might want to consider taking a few days off work. You’ll be in a moon boot for a few weeks after that, I imagine, but with some light physio you’ll be right as rain. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Oh,’ Bea muttered, while Zach rubbed her hand soothingly. Bea hadn’t had an operation since having her wisdom teeth removed when she was nineteen. In her post-operative state, she’d been convinced she was in Narnia and kept referring to the duty nurse as Aslan. Bea shuddered.
‘Do you have any family you want me to call?’ the doctor asked.
Bea couldn’t find her voice to reply. She shook her head, an image of her frantic mother popping into her mind. Maggie would just stress, and Martin, well, he would practically demand to do the surgery himself. It would be better if she delayed that conversation for now.
‘I’ll be here though. I won’t leave her side,’ Zach said, injecting confidence and warmth into his voice.
‘And you are?’ the doctor asked.
‘I’m her boyfriend,’ Zach replied, glancing at Bea for approval.
She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. I guess we’re back together then.
‘Zach, I don’t think I want to do this.’ Bea squeezed the hand of her new-old boyfriend. She was lying on a bed in pre-op, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and thick socks. She had just gotten off the phone to her parents and sister, who were all fretting over every detail. ‘It’s just routine,’ Bea had told them. She had also sent a quick message to Dino to let him know what was going on. Just in case he was worried when he hadn’t heard from her. He hadn’t replied.
‘Don’t be nervous, Bea. Like the doctor said, you’re in great hands and it will be over before you know it! And I’ll be waiting here the whole time.’ Zach tried to sound cheery, flashing her one of his movie-star smiles.
She still couldn’t quite believe that yesterday she was single and healthy, and now she was in hospital, about to be cut open, with an apparently doting boyfriend by her side. And the overwhelming and numbing fear (not to mention pain) of it all was enough for her to temporarily put her rage and downright scepticism on hold because she just couldn’t fathom being alone right now. Does that make me entirely pathetic and the total antithesis of a strong, independent woman? Bea asked herself, lamenting that they had disconnected her morphine drip.
‘You do realise that they’re going to slice open my skin, crack my bones and jiggle them into place? Slice, crack and jiggle! Slice, crack and jiggle!’ Bea said, trying to act casual.
‘Stop saying slice, crack and jiggle.’ Zach shuddered, tickling her stomach lightly through the blankets. ‘You’re going to be fine.’
A man wearing light blue scrubs entered the room. ‘Miss Babbage, are you ready? I’m your anaesthetist, John,’ he said kindly, shaking her hand reassuringly. ‘I’ll be taking you into theatre.’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Bea said lightly, but her heart was racing.
‘Is this where I leave you?’ Zach asked.
Bea nodded, unable to speak. Her body was limp, she needed to catch her breath.
‘I love you,’ Zach said.
Bea swallowed. Love you? Before she could think how to respond, she was wheeled away towards the operating theatre. She stared up at the big bright lights that shone down on her as if she were in an interrogation room. You’re going to be okay. This is all routine, she reminded herself over and over again. She then let her mind wander to thoughts of lattes and poodles and Dino and … Doesn’t he care that I’m about to have surgery?
‘Now, I’m just going to put this on you.’ Dr John said, pulling a mask over her mouth and nose.
Bea closed her eyes.
‘You’re about to have one of the best sleeps of your life,’ he said in his calming voice, as Bea felt a coolness creep through her veins as the Propofol was injected into her IV line.
‘Okay. Sweet drea—’
‘I’m fine. Just sore. I can’t walk, but the doctor said they’ll help get me up and moving tomorrow, with crutches and a moon boot,’ Bea said into her phone. She was FaceTiming Lizzie from her hospital room. Bleached white walls, a tiny window and a small painting of a sailboat stared back at her. Bea had been lying there for the past four hours, and the only things keeping her sane were Zach’s company (believe it or not) and a good supply of endone. She was still in her hospital gown with her leg propped up on a tower of pillows, and she didn’t even want to think about what sort of state her hair was in. She felt self-conscious, allowing Zach to see her so exposed. But Zach didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed to relish looking after her. And, she had to admit, he had been truly brilliant at it. She had woken to a room full of sunflowers and Zach had read to her, talked to her and even (mortifyingly) watched her fall into a drug-induced sleep complete, no doubt, with drool and snoring.
‘Oh Bea, I wish I could be there, but both girls have chicken pox and it’s an absolute animal farm over here. And of course, Nick is off in Perth for work again – I’m thinking of calling him to come home, telling him I need to be in Melbourne to help you,’ Lizzie said apologetically, pressing her face so close to the camera that Bea could see the clumps of mascara that accented her lashes.
‘Don’t be silly, Liz. I’m fine. My boyfriend is here to look after me.’ Bea turned her phone towards Zach, who was sitting on a chair in the corner of a room, flicking patiently through a copy of WHO magazine.
‘Your boyfriend?’ Lizzie’s tone instantly changed.
‘Oh Liz, don’t be rude. Speak to you later. Love you!’ Bea blew air kisses at the camera and then switched it off.
Zach grimaced. ‘Well, she hates me.’
‘She just needs time to forgive you. And possibly for also allegedly flirting with her. She’ll come round.’ Bea shrugged. Have I forgiven him yet?
Zach’s face blanched. ‘I would never do that to Lizzie! Oh my God, I am still mortified that she thinks I was coming on to her.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Bea said dismissively, too tired to get into that again. In fact, she felt utterly drained and the dull throb in her ankle was proving more and more difficult to ignore. ‘Zach, you must be tired. You haven’t slept since – when? Two nights ago?’ Bea asked, taking in his sunken cheeks and the bags under his eyes.
‘I’m fine, Bea.’
Bea smiled. ‘So am I. Seriously. I’m going to fall asleep now for the next few hours. Why don’t you head home, have a quick nap, and then pick us up some takeaway? I can’t bear to eat hospital food again.’ She knew the only way to get him to leave was to spin the situation to make it seem as if he was doing her a favour.
‘Fine, fine, you have a point there. Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘I don’t mind one bit. I’m so out of it I won’t even remember any of this tomorrow anyway! Go home, get some rest, and then bring me back a Nando’s burger,’ Bea said, rubbing her hands together and practically licking her lips in anticipation.
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ Zach
put on his boots and stood up.
‘I’m positive.’
He bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips, almost as if he was afraid she might break.
She looked up at him. ‘Thank you for everything, Zach. Really.’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, and don’t forget the fries!’ she called as he walked out the door. Then she closed her eyes, relieved to have some solitude.
A loud crash brought Bea back from the depths of a deep, drug-induced sleep. Bleary eyed, she scanned the room to find a dark shadow on the floor next to a toppled-over chair.
‘Dino?’ Bea asked. ‘Is that you?’
Hopping up, Dino adjusted his grey hoodie and dark blue jeans, flour still scattering his clothes. He must’ve come straight from work. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was about to leave when I saw you sleeping, but I tripped over this inconveniently placed chair,’ he said, righting the chair. ‘What the hell happened to you, Babbage?’ He lightly punched her on the arm.
She revelled in the friendly nature of the gesture, sick of all the nurses, even Zach, treating her with such delicacy. ‘Oh, you know, your standard Thursday. Sushi for lunch, climbing and then falling from a tree resulting in an ankle break for dinner and impromptu operation for dessert. Just the usual.’
‘What were you doing climbing a tree? Actually, let me guess. Mystery Writer again?’ He awkwardly sat on the bed, his legs dangling clumsily from the side.
Bea caught her breath, feeling things she didn’t want to. We’re just friends. This is fine, she told herself.
‘I was pretty worried there for a second, Babbage,’ he said.
‘It didn’t seem like it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This is the first I’ve heard from you. I’ve been out of surgery for hours.’
‘Bea, my phone died. I called the hospital as soon as I found out. Don’t ever think I don’t care about you.’ Bea nodded, relieved. He didn’t forget about me.
‘I can’t believe you had to do this alone. Bea, just the thought of it …’ His brow furrowed.
‘I wasn’t alone,’ she admitted quietly.
Dino raised an eyebrow.
‘When you didn’t answer, I called Zach. He was the one who came to fetch me from the park. He didn’t leave my side until I made him go home after my operation. He’s been quite sweet, really. He seems different.’
Dino’s face contorted. He shuffled back, leaving a cool, empty space between them. ‘Why would it have even crossed your mind to call him, Bea?’
‘Because I have no family here and – well, I’m thinking of giving him another chance, Dino. Like you said, it’s ultimately my decision. And I’m being smart about it and
seeing what he’s like, and I have to say, he’s trying his best to make things up to me. Heck, he got me through this whole ordeal when I had no one else,’ Bea said firmly, attempting to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince Dino.
Then Dino was up and off the bed and pacing, frustration rising from his skin. ‘I thought you only liked him because you thought he wrote those stupid inscriptions in the book and, well, how do we even know he can read now?’ he spat. ‘So – what? You’re back together now? Just like that?’
‘I don’t know, maybe, something like that,’ Bea replied, attempting to edge her way up to a sitting position. ‘Do we have to do this now?’ She gestured to the hospital room.
Dino ignored her, powering on. ‘I can’t believe you, Bea. Jesus, I thought you were smart, but your judgement is totally off with this one.’
‘Excuse me? How dare you!’ Bea spat. ‘You don’t know me at all. I had this whole fantasy in my head that my ideal man was the Mystery Writer, and when Zach told me it wasn’t really him, well, I threw the idea of him out the window. But maybe that’s ridiculous. Maybe the owner of Meeting Oliver Bennett is just some random person who I’ll never meet, and the real love of my life is Zach. I owe myself a chance at finding love, don’t I?’
‘Jesus, Bea. You’re so gullible sometimes, so willing to trust others, even when they have proven on countless occasions that they are completely untrustworthy. You’ve been so caught up with living in the margins that you’re totally blind to what’s actually reality. You have to get out and start living for you.’ Dino paused. His fists were balled up by his sides and he was taking heavy, shallow breaths, seemingly trying to get a handle on himself.
‘I’m living in the margins? I’m living in the margins? Well, I’m sorry, Mr I’m-too-cool-for-everyone, don’t-look-at-me-the-wrong-way-or-misquote-a-piece-of-poetry-or-I’ll-bite-your-head-off. No one can live up to your ridiculous standards, Dino. And quite frankly, I’m sick of it.’ Bea crossed her arms. Her mind was foggy and she couldn’t quite see straight. She did, however, see Dino’s face contort in – was that hurt?
‘Well, good luck, Bea,’ he said in a chilling voice. ‘I’m out. I can’t watch you self-destruct. If you’re going to include that lunatic in your life, I want no part of it. I hope you two are very happy together.’ He turned and walked out the door without looking back.
‘Fuck you, Dino,’ Bea muttered, unsure why she was crying so much.
Tell us in 2 words or less, why you want to win a year’s supply of Kair’s large wax strips.
Lost my razor. Haven’t had time to buy another, and now mobility restricted due to broken ankle. Leg hair currently longer than War and Peace.
It had been a few days since Bea had arrived home from the hospital and she was still groggy and out of sorts. She reclined against the couch, running her eyes around the perimeter of the ceiling. She counted one crack, two small spider webs, an unidentified bluish-green stain and a small glow-in-the-dark star. She shook her head, thinking back to her childhood bedroom, which was adorned with her very own glow-in-the-dark constellation. Cassandra had taken one look at her pride and joy, smirked and said,
‘Cute.’ Even as a ten-year-old, Bea had known that she wasn’t trying to be flattering.
Picking up a half-empty takeaway cup, she took a sip of the cold latte. Being limited in her mobility, and on less than great terms with Dino, she had begun ordering coffees from The Nook on Uber Eats. Bea could handle distance from Dino, but her caffeine cravings were a different story: they couldn’t stomach going without The Nook’s strong, smooth, hit-the-spot coffee. So she had convinced herself that the $5 delivery fee was well worth it. She just wouldn’t look at her bank balance.
Her buzzer blared. She frowned, checked the time again, and wondered if it might be Dino, grovelling and begging for her forgiveness. Easing off the couch, she used one of her crutches to hoist herself up and then halfhopped, half-hobbled on her moon boot to the intercom, her gait noticeably awry.
Clicking the speaker button, she yelled down the line: ‘Hello?’
‘Beatrix? It’s me!’
‘Who’s “me”?’ Bea called back, her heart sinking at the distinctly female voice, racking her memory for recognition.
A muffled pause, followed by a shrill, ‘Ruth!’ blasted up the line.
‘Ruth? What are you doing here? Did we have plans I forgot about?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, well, how lovely and unexpected!’
‘Do you think you could let me up now?’ Ruth said, matter of factly. ‘I have business to discuss and would rather not do it in front of the whole street.’
‘Oh yes, yes, of course! Sorry!’ Bea fumbled with the intercom, releasing the lock.
Looking over her shoulder, she surveyed the mess that was her living room with a sigh. Half-drunk cups of tea, tissues, a bowl of chicken soup (her mother had couriered a container of frozen chicken soup, distraught that she couldn’t visit herself ), dirty socks and cartons of the various drugs Bea was taking littered the room. Before she had a moment to rectify the situation, a firm knock announced Ruth and Philip’s arrival.
Bea plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. ‘Ruth! How did you know wh
ere I lived? How lovely to—’ Bea stopped, taking in Ruth’s dishevelled appearance. Her frizzy hair sat in an unruly bird’s nest on top of her head and her red paisley shirt was half untucked and hanging over green cargo pants. ‘Ruth, are you okay?’
Ruth took a sharp intake of breath and held some very intense eye contact before dissolving into a puddle of tears. It was only then that Bea noticed Ruth’s ferret, Philip, scampering about at her feet.
‘Oh, Ruth! Please, come in.’ Bea ushered her surprise guest into the living room and plonked her down on the couch, surreptitiously kicking her pyjama bottoms under the couch with her good foot. Grabbing a box of tissues, she thrust a handful at Ruth, then hovered awkwardly. ‘What can I get you? Tea? Chocolate? A scotch on the rocks?’
‘English breakfast!’ Ruth wailed. She hadn’t seemed to notice Bea’s own wounded appearance.
Relieved to have something to busy herself with, Bea shuffled to the kitchen, grabbing at chairs and walls to steady herself. She boiled the kettle and rummaged through her bare shelves. Finding exactly three tea bags left in her tea canister, she grabbed an English breakfast and looped it into a mug.
‘Milk? Sugar?’ she called through the open door. When there was no reply, she shrugged and plopped a liberal dose of both to the brew.
Thankfully, when Bea emerged from the kitchen, precariously balancing the mug, Ruth seemed to have calmed down somewhat. No longer actively crying, she sat on the couch blowing her nose with one hand while methodically patting Philip with the other. Bea cautiously put the tea on the coffee table, using all of her energy not to spill it or tumble forwards.
‘I love this book.’ Ruth gestured at Meeting Oliver Bennett. It was sitting on Bea’s coffee table.
Bea was over the moon to know that someone else had read the book. ‘You’ve read it? This one, well, it’s really special. It’s filled with—’
‘What happened to you?’ Ruth interrupted, eyeing Bea’s moon boot.
