A Story of Now

On the eighth day, Claire walks wearily along the bright, fluorescent-lit hospital corridor toward the waiting room. That’s when she sees them.

At first, she thinks she’s dreaming, or having some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination. But no, the three of them, Robbie, Nina, and Mia, are walking slowly toward her. They look like the promise of summer in jeans and T-shirts, sunglasses perched on their heads. It must be another of those perfect late spring days, when a person can feel the tang of summer and the potential of what’s to come. A day when it’s finally possible to bare legs and shoulders.

For the first time in days, Claire feels a desire to be away from the clinical stink and climate-control air of the hospital. She wants to experience the unpredictability of real air against her skin and to absorb whatever warmth the sun provides. The glimpses of sun she catches in the cloying, smoky emergency entrance hardly count.

They spot her straight away and pick up the pace in a bashful, approaching collective of sympathetic smiles. Robbie breaks ranks first and strides quickly until he’s right in front of her. He enfolds her in one of his relentless, no-choice hugs, and his grip is even fiercer than usual.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks.

He steps back and squeezes her shoulders. “We came to see how you are, dummy.”

“And to bring you a coffee.” Mia holds up a take-away cup. “Here.” She passes it to Claire and smiles.

“And to see if you’re okay,” Nina adds.

“I’m okay. Tired.”

“You look it,” Nina tells her as they step out of the way of some hurrying nurses. “No offence.”

Claire smiles in weary agreement and sits on a bank of seats that line the narrow corridor.

Robbie drops down next to her. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s okay. He’s getting his chest tube removed, whatever that means.”

Robbie automatically turns to Mia.

“He must have had a lung collapse,” she says.

Claire points at Mia. “What she said.”

“Gross.” Nina grimaces before turning to Claire, contrite. “Sorry.”

Claire smiles. “Don’t be sorry. It is gross. It’s all been gross.”

“I should probably confess I know more about this from movies than school.” Mia frowns. “We haven’t got to that stuff yet. Is he doing okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. He’s out of intensive care. So that’s good.”

“Do you need anything?” Nina asks again as she folds her arms over her chest, looking awkward. “Clothes or stuff from school?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Robbie brushes his finger against her cheek. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more pale, but you’ve out-ghosted yourself.”

Claire pushes his hand away. “Thanks, Robbie. No, seriously,” she grumbles but is secretly grateful for the way he never changes. “Thanks a lot.”

He smiles at her as if he knows it’s easier for her if he just treats her like normal.

“Maybe we should go outside?” Mia suggests. She looks down the long white hallway to the sliding doors. “While they’re with your brother? It’s beautiful out there. It might make you feel better.”

Robbie nods. “Good idea. It’s pretty awful in here.”

Before she can say anything, they stand.

Anchored by fear, Claire almost wants to say no, that she wants to stay here just in case. But the other part of her doesn’t have the energy to protest, so she stands too.

They traipse back down the long hallway. Claire stops at the nurses’ station and rests her palms on the cool counter.

Lorraine, one of the nurses, comes over. “They’re still with Cam, sweetheart,” she tells her. “Might be a while longer.”

“I’m just going outside for a bit.”

“Good.” Lorraine nods as she picks up a pile of papers. She looks over at the others. “Put her in the sunshine, kids. I don’t think she’s seen much daylight for a while.” She turns to Claire. “I’ve got your number. I’ll call you if you’re needed. Go outside and breath some air, child.”

Claire smiles and turns away. She secretly loves Lorraine, with her epic hair that looks as if it hasn’t changed since the eighties, and her wiry, comforting competence. Cam has managed to chip away at the reserve of this recent round of nurses, for whom their mother is, thankfully, already becoming a distant memory.

They trudge through the sliding doors and head for the park across from the hospital. When they find a patch of grass, Claire sinks wearily onto it, blinking into the brightness. Nina immediately takes off her sunglasses and places them on Claire’s face. Claire smiles her gratitude and lies back on the grass, absorbing the nourishing warmth of the sun.

They sit there in sun-stunned silence for a few minutes.

“Did you know they brush your teeth for you when you’re unconscious?” Claire tells them, breaking the quiet.

“Ew,” Nina says. “That’s weird. What, they just pry open your mouth and brush them?”

Claire shrugs and looks at Nina. “Pretty much. Saw it with my own eyes.”

“Yuck,” Nina says.

“No, I did not know that, Claire.” Robbie flops onto the grass next to her. “Thank you for that invaluable piece of information.”

Claire gives him a lazy smile. “Happy to drop some knowledge on you. Anything else you want to know about sedation-hygiene routines?”

“Definitely not.” Robbie laughs. “Do they teach you this stuff, Mia?”

“Not really,” she says from somewhere behind Claire. “We’re, uh, into things at a more cellular level.”

Nina sighs. “I don’t even know what that means.”

And Claire idly listens to the other three banter, glad they don’t try to make her talk about the accident or ask relentless questions about Cam’s condition like everyone else who visits and doesn’t know what to say.

But after a while, she forces herself to sit up, mostly because she’s afraid she’s going to fall asleep. She hugs her knees to her chest and tries to focus on what everyone is talking about, but it’s difficult to concentrate. She’s grateful they are here, though, a distraction from the awful monotony of another repetitive day.

Her phone starts to ring, and their talk trickles off as she checks it. It’s her mother. She puts it down on the grass next to her. When she looks up again, they’re all looking at her.

“It’s just Mum.” She plays with the laces of her boots. “Probably just to see if they are done. She checks in every five minutes. I’ll call her when I get back.”

“She’s not there?” Nina asks.

“No, Mum and Dad are in Canberra.”

Nina frowns. “What? What are they doing in Canberra?”

“Both of them?” Robbie asks.

“Yeah, they were scheduled to lead this big conference at a university. It started yesterday. So they decided to go when Cam got out of ICU.”

“Is anyone else around?” Mia asks.

“My aunt Lucy comes to see him every night. And his friends visit lots. And I stay with him in the day. Now that he’s out of ICU, they’re stricter about visiting hours, though, but I can hang out with him in the mornings and the afternoons.” She pulls a small clump of grass from the ground and ties the narrow blades into a knot. “I guess they don’t let us be with him all the time because they know he’s not going to die now. Which is, you know, good.” She tosses the grass away.

“What do you do the rest of the time?” Robbie asks.

“I go to the café or sit in the waiting room and study. No point going home just to come back.” She watches kids run into the playground while their mother, laden with shopping, yells at them to slow down.

Mia frowns. “And so you’re staying at home by yourself?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” She doesn’t tell them that she can’t sleep at night by herself. That for the first time in a long time, she actually wishes her parents were there.

Nina checks her phone and sighs. “Crap, I have to go.” She gets up and dusts the back of her jeans. “Sorry, Claire.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Claire squints up at her and frowns. “Why be sorry?”

But Nina looks as if she doesn’t know what to say to that, and Claire immediately feels bad. “Thanks for coming, Neens.”

Nina smiles back, grateful. “Andrew’s holding your shifts at work, too, okay?”

“Lucky me.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Tell him thank you, I think.”

Nina grins.

“I’d better go too.” Robbie climbs to his feet and holds his hand out to Claire. “Will you be okay, babe?”

“Of course.” She takes his hand and stands. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, guys, for coming,” she says again, because she doesn’t know what else to say. They turn back toward the hospital.

“Don’t thank us.” Robbie throws an arm around her shoulder as they trudge back across the parking lot. “Of course we came.”

And Claire feels a rush of warmth, a solace that seems to come as much from his words as his affection. Of course they came. These people are her friends. These people have become her people. She feels an embarrassing prick of tears at the back of her eyelids.

They walk her to the doors of the hospital, and she goes inside quickly before they can leave her. She doesn’t want to watch them go, free to walk into that intoxicating sunshine and to the simpler worries of study, break, and work. She, on the other hand, is relegated to her lonesome station in the hallway, waiting for her brother’s battered body to heal.

She trudges the long passage, keeping to the sides, out of the way of the busy staff moving between rooms. There’s still an hour and a half until afternoon visiting hours, so she decides to go to what she thinks of as her personal corner of the hospital, a little bank of seats tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall.

She usually has it to herself. There aren’t many people around the ward at this time. Most people come during evening visiting hours and then leave. There are only a few who, like her, are left with the sole responsibility of care for someone, or cannot bring themselves to leave until they know everything is going to be okay.

As usual, it’s empty. She sits cross-legged on a seat and pulls out her French text. She opens her book, ready to re-read a chapter, but zones out instead. She stares at the wall opposite with its colourful but depressing posters about health care and skin cancer checks and yawns heavily. Her exhaustion feels like something heavy chained to her, and it pulls her slowly but interminably downward. It makes sitting upright feel impossible. She shuts her eyes slowly and slumps in her seat.

“Hey.”

Claire jumps and opens her eyes, blinking into the fluorescent light. It’s Mia. She stands in front of Claire, her sunglasses still perched on her head, and smiles at her.

“Uh…hey.” Claire blinks harder and once again wonders if she’s seeing things. “What are you doing back here?”

Mia drops into the seat next to her. “I don’t know. I thought I’d wait here with you for a bit, at least until you’re allowed to see him. It must be kind of horrible hanging out here by yourself.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t mind.” Mia puts her bag on the seat next to her as if she is here to stay.

“I’m fine, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you are,” Mia says in that knowing way she has and settles into her seat. She removes an elastic from her wrist and ties her hair into a ponytail.

“Why would anyone want to sit in a hospital if they don’t have to?” Claire frowns.

“Well, I’m thinking of studying medicine, remember?” Mia threads the elastic one more time around her thick hair. “Might as well get used to it.”

“True.” Claire still feels compelled to act nonchalant about Mia’s re-appearance, but already her presence feels like a salve.

Mia smiles at Claire. She’s developed a handful of freckles in this sunny weather, a smattering of brown spots across her nose and cheeks. It suits her. “And you don’t have to talk or anything. I know you’re really tired.”

“I am.”

“Have you been able to sleep?”

“Not really,” Claire admits. “I can’t.”

Mia nods, reaches into her bag, and pulls out a huge textbook. “Rest if you want. I’ve got plenty to keep me entertained.” She lifts up the book. “Exams are horrifyingly close.”

Claire nods. It’s difficult to believe she’s missed the last week of classes and that it’s nearly study break already. She’s been studying as hard as she can when Cam is asleep or between visiting hours. She knows she’ll pass. But she’s also prepared for the fact she might not do too great. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t care.

Mia flicks open her book, pulls out a notepad, and rests it on her knee. She replaces her sunglasses with her reading glasses and busies herself with work.

Claire immediately relaxes, glad Mia doesn’t expect her to talk. Claire has nothing to say, nothing to tell anyone that isn’t about hospitals and wounds and trauma. She rests her head against the wall and shuts her eyes glad of the simple solace of having someone beside her. The last few days, although surrounded by people, have been a lonely experience.

In fact, the whole week has been an exercise in trying to hold it together. Now she actually feels as though she might be able to breathe a little, to let go. She takes in a long, deep breath and lets it out in an unexpectedly shaky sigh.

“You okay?” Mia’s voice is quiet.

Claire nods. Suddenly scared she is going to cry, she keeps her eyes jammed shut and purses her lips. Mia doesn’t say anything, but Claire can feel her gaze. She takes another deep breath, holds it in, and tries to stem the tears. She feels fingers slide over her own and take a light hold of her hand. Warmth spreads through her body at the sympathy contained in this touch, at the comfort of being with someone who knows she’s maybe only dancing around the edges of being okay. For that, she’s incredibly grateful. She gently squeezes Mia’s hand, her way of saying thank you. And Mia’s only response is to simply hold on a little tighter.

After a few peaceful minutes of sitting there, eyes closed to the inexorable, quiet hospital scurry, tethered to the island of sanity that is Mia, Claire turns and looks at her. Her friend’s free hand is busily at work. It flits briskly between writing copious notes and turning the pages of her book. Claire smiles. She could probably use her hand back, but Claire’s not willing to return it. It’s keeping her sustained right now. She looks down at their hands, at Mia’s long brown fingers and neatly manicured fingernails, a stark contrast to Claire’s chipped blue polish and chewed-down nails. She exhales another long sigh and rests her head back against the wall.

“Claire?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you lie down?”

She opens her eyes and turns her head.

Mia gestures at the bank of seats. “I’ll stay with you, and if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when it’s time to see Cam.”

Claire starts to shake her head, but then gives in. All she wants, all she needs, is to shut her eyes for a while. “Do you promise you’ll wake me? At three?”

“I’ll wake you.” Mia squeezes her hand again, her brown eyes insistent. “I promise.”

Claire gives in. She has to. “Okay.” She releases Mia’s hand, kicks off her boots, and eases herself down across the chairs.

“Here.” Mia reaches into her bag, pulls out a sweater, and folds it up. She passes it to Claire. “Pillow.”

“Thanks.” Claire gratefully takes the proffered sweater. She lays it on the chair next to Mia’s leg and lowers her head onto her makeshift pillow. She shuts her eyes and breathes in the comforting, clean scent of washed clothes and something else fresh and light—a smell she’s already come to associate with Mia. She tucks her hands under her chin and shuts her eyes, safe to let go of consciousness for a while.