36. Jamie
Turns out hospitals are not my favourite place to be.
Once Mike had parked the car and the three of us began to make our way across the road to the hospital, I froze.
The all too familiar images of the explosion began to play out in my mind, memories of scrambling to save myself and the guys in my truck amidst the carnage became all too real again, and the sweat began to pour down my back as the need to vomit rode high.
I couldn’t get the putrid smell of burning flesh and death out of my nostrils.
“Hey, what’s going on, are you alright?”
Mike pulled me to one side when we were a few feet away from the A I needed her to tell me it would all be okay.
I didn’t need to hear her cheery voicemail greeting telling me I knew what to do and she’d get back to me.
After a few minutes had passed and the fear in my stomach had reached near crescendo, I dialled her number again.
This time, it didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail.
She’d turned it off.
Mike appeared at my side, “Hey, how are you doing now?”
His hand rested on my shoulder; his concern etched deep within his frown.
“Does that happen often? I thought you were going to pass out, for a minute.”
I hold out my hand, offering Mike his car keys back.
“Unfortunately, yeah.
Too often.”
Making his way around the front of the car, Mike unlocks it and settles into the driver’s seat.
“You could have got in; you didn’t need to wait outside.
He turns the key in the ignition and reverses out of the space, before heading back out of town towards home.
“I needed the fresh air.
How’s Ben, did you see him?”
Turning to look at Mike, I pray that it’s good news.
Mike shook his head, “I didn’t see him.
Josh’s mum was waiting for the doctor to come out and update her.
He was in resus when I left them.”
All kinds of scenarios run through my mind, the worst being that Ben has passed away, and I did nothing to save him.
That thought sinks like a lead balloon and sits heavy in my stomach.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed again and the heat rises up from my toes, “Can I open a window?”
I ask while I’m cracking open the passenger side window.
“How was Josh?”
It’s a stupid question but the best I can formulate at the moment.
“He burst into tears when he saw his mum,”
Mike flicks the indicator and we turn down onto my street.
“Let me know which is yours,”
I point out our house on the left with the blue door and he pulls over, parking in front of the gate.
“I just hope the old man makes it, for Josh’s sake.
He’s been through enough recently.”
As I put my hand on the door handle, ready to exit the vehicle, Mike says, “If I can help you to deal with these… panic attacks, just tell me what you need me to do.
You’ve fought for us, it’s the least I can do to repay you your dedication.”
His words are kind and heartfelt, and they do not help the dryness that’s present in my throat, forbidding me from answering.
So, I offer him a half smile and a nod.
“If I get an update on Ben, I’ll let you know.”
Mike calls after me before I close the car door and head inside.
Thankfully, my mother isn’t home, she’s gone to visit my brother, Charlie, for an overnight stay.
She tried to convince me to go with her, and if I hadn’t signed up to volunteer with the football club then maybe I would have gone.
But, I’m a man of my word, so I’m home alone for the first time since I took the overdose.
My first stop is the kitchen to grab a drink.
Foregoing water, I open the cupboard and pull out a bottle of Whiskey, the one my mother saves for the Christmas cake, and pour myself a decent measure.
I ponder momentarily, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass, before I lift it to my mouth and down the glassful.
The afterburn warms my chest and I contemplate pouring another shot but instead, I pull out my phone and dial Scarlett’s number again.
This time, when the voicemail clicks in, I listen to her voice. ‘Hey you’ve reached Scarlett, I can’t answer right now but you know what to do,’ There’s a loud beep and I stumble over my words. “It’s me, call me back,”
there is a moment’s pause before I end the call and then I stand there staring at the screen.
Hoping, that somehow, if I will it hard enough, it’ll light up with Scarlett’s smiling face.
The photo I have stored with her number is one from before Tom and I joined up.
It was originally a selfie of all three of us, but I’ve cropped it down to just Scarlett now.
It was a beautiful summers day, and we’d been to the beach.
Scarlett had insisted on going on all the fairground rounds and Tom and I took it in turns to ride with her.
I drew the short straw and had to ride the Big Wheel because Tom hated heights.
That was one of our last days out as a three.
We left for training a week later.
With my glass refilled, I head up to my room, climbing the stairs slowly as I grip both my glass and my phone in my hands.
I’m afraid if I slide my phone into my pocket I’ll miss Scarlett’s call.
Stupid I know, but I’m all about the irrational these days.
I place the glass on my bedside table and head over to close the curtains, still clutching my phone tightly.
As I settle onto the bed, I give in to the urge and try to call again.
All I get is her voicemail again, so I leave another message.
This time I manage to beg a little more.
Then I down the Whiskey.