Chapter 22
Before
It was late January and Kasie had come back home after recovering from a severe sickle cell crisis.
She had stayed in hospital for three weeks, and it was scary.
Her family had argued against her returning to the flat, wanting her to recover with them, but Kasie was desperate for space and a return to normality.
Our flat had been freezing cold, and the landlady had advised me to bleed the radiators and call her back. ‘Bleeding radiators,’ I gagged. ‘There’s no way it’s called that.’
Kasie was wearing a furry brown onesie, which made her look like a teddy bear. She grabbed a plastic jug and sat on the living-room carpet next to me. ‘It is called that.’
I pulled a fleece blanket over my shoulders and watched as she turned a tiny key in the radiator.
She’d lost weight while in hospital, her wrists were knobbly and her clavicle protruded slightly, though her face seemed rounder than usual, in a way that made her look far younger than twenty-nine.
She caught me staring. ‘Yes? Why are you making eyes at me?’
‘I’m always making eyes at you.’
She indicated for me to take over cranking the key. It was tight yet soon gave way and discoloured water dribbled into the jug. ‘How do you know how to do this? You’re so practical.’
Kasie gave me a side eye. ‘You can’t ignore stuff.’
‘I’m not ignoring anything.’
Her face was pinched and annoyed. ‘It makes it worse for me when you pretend that nothing happened.’
I studied the murky water as if searching for something to say. ‘Is that it? Do we now drain the others?’
‘It’s not draining,’ she snapped at me, ‘it’s bleeding.’
We sat there for a minute in a cold silence and Kasie stared at me, her eyes too large in her head.
I knew what she wanted to talk about, I just didn’t know why.
Why drag up those horrible weeks? Why not put them behind her and look forward.
‘Your family was there,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to intrude. ’
‘I know in the past there have been times when I’ve told you not to bother coming to the hospital. This was different. You knew it was different. You should have been there.’
I nodded.
‘You’re my best friend, Zoe. The next time I’m sick like that, you need to come.’
‘There won’t be a next time,’ I said. ‘You’re stronger now than ever.’
‘Don’t put your denial on me. Of course there will be a next time.
I will go back to hospital, because that’s my reality.
’ She got up and stalked off to the kitchen.
I listened to the tap run and water splash, then wiped my eyes on my sleeves before she came back. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I really am.’
‘Forget it.’ Kasie went to the thermostat on the wall and turned it up. ‘Don’t cry. Why are you crying?’
‘Why are you shouting at me?’ I whined.
‘Because,’ she yelled, ‘you’re being a dick about this.’
I must have gasped because she turned back to me and burst into laughter.
‘I can’t believe you called me that.’
Kasie pulled her hood down over her eyes. ‘I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that came into my head.’
‘Dick was the first thing in your head?’
She returned to the carpet and attempted to push me over. ‘Shut up, Zoe.’
We sat side by side, this time close, and stared at the radiator, which was making an empty gurgling sound.
It was my turn to talk, yet all I could do was rub my eyes and wallow in how crap a friend I sometimes was.
Eventually, I said, ‘I kept thinking you would be home the next day.’ I focused on the jug and its contents so that I would miss her expression; it was bad enough saying the lie without seeing that Kasie knew it was one.
‘Plus, you always moan about what a pain I am to have bedside.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘your bedside manner is not great.’ She put her hand on the radiator. ‘I’ve never been sick like that before.’
Of course, I recognised that this hospital stay was different.
It wasn’t only the length of time she’d been there; it was how minimal the contact I ’d had with her family had been.
Usually, Kasie’s brother would update me, but throughout January, his messages had been short and vague, the gap between them agonisingly long.
Midway through the second week, I took to having my phone switched off during the day as I couldn’t focus with it on, with the possibility that any second it could light up with some devastating news.
‘I’m a terrible friend,’ I said, embarrassed I was crying again. ‘I should have visited you and I didn’t. I was terrified.’
Kasie made a great show of rolling her eyes. ‘You’re so melodramatic.’
It only made me cry more.
‘Zoe, stop.’ She leaned over and hugged me. ‘You cry at everything. Stop it. You need to regulate your emotions better.’
‘That’s not true.’ My tears ran fast, down my face and neck. ‘I’m so good at regulating my emotions, my last boyfriend questioned if I had any.’
Her head dropped against my shoulder as she laughed into it.
‘You’re so dumb sometimes. Please. Let’s make the deal now that you’ll visit me when I’m in hospital.
Whether it’s to pester me about how I’m feeling, or gossip about the nurses or even if it’s just to sit outside the ward and make awkward small talk with my mum. ’
I snorted and wiped my nose with my sleeve. ‘Your mum won’t thank you for saying that. She hates me.’
‘She doesn’t hate you. You need to stop saying that. And stop trying so hard with her.’
‘I want her to like me.’
‘She does like you.’
‘She’s never liked me. And I’m polite and overachieving. Why doesn’t she like me?’
Kasie grabbed my wrist and shook it. ‘Forget about my mum. Promise me.’
‘I promise I will visit you to talk rubbish and cheer you up and bring you gifts.’
Kasie stared at me then winced a little. ‘And to say goodbye, if it comes to that.’ This time she put her hand out as if for me to take it, but I couldn’t close the gap, not during this conversation. It felt too binding somehow, like by shaking on it, we were manifesting something into existence.
‘Zoe?’ she tried, now catching my fingers as I strained to pull away. ‘Promise.’
‘I don’t like goodbyes.’
Kasie’s face contorted. ‘Why are you lying? You love goodbyes.’
‘What’s that based on?’
‘You throw yourself a goodbye party every time you travel.’ Kasie held my hand in a tight grip. ‘Promise,’ she said.
‘I promise.’