Chapter Thirty-One
Kate
Hold the Line by Toto
I’m breaking all my own rules. Sharon now has a camp bed that she folds out every evening and sleeps on each night next to Danny’s bed.
She has a drawer in his bedside table containing her clothes and she comes and goes from the staff room as she pleases, leaving us biscuits – store-bought these days – and making us cups of tea and coffee.
Her toothbrush and washbag sit in my locker and she knows the code to open it.
Most of the time, she sits next to him while he drifts in and out of consciousness.
That said, for a couple of hours – usually during visiting hours – she works her way around the ward.
Dishing out the biscuits she buys – Hobnobs, Ginger Nuts, Digestives during the week, custard creams and chocolate bourbons for the weekend – she talks to those who want to or are able, and she sits with those who aren’t but still want the company, still want a hand to hold.
Every other day this week, we have given Danny a bed bath together.
After we changed Danny after his accident on Monday, I was worried Sharon wouldn’t be able to do it.
She couldn’t quite wipe the shock from her face completely and the last thing any of my patients need is to see horror staring back at them.
But I wanted to try and I’m glad I did. It’s Saturday and we’ve just finished washing him and getting him changed.
I’m watching her as she settles him back in bed, a gentle smile on her face.
I feel a surge of pride; she was confident and calm as she washed him.
She turned the radio up when it was a song he liked and down when the DJ started talking.
Again and again, she reminded him that his mum is on her way to see him.
That his sister is going to come too, when she can get time off work.
I don’t know if Danny understands. I don’t know if he hears her most days. He’s sleeping so much and when he is conscious it’s only barely, like his brain is still dreaming. In many ways, I hope it is.
I wanted to ask Sharon for more details about his mother’s arrival but I didn’t want to alarm her or him. I am not brave enough to admit that the end could be very close indeed. I am not brave enough to hurt somebody I love that much.
Yes, I love Sharon. I think I have loved her for some time but I was aware of it on Sunday at her flat after I had poured my heart out to her the night before, explained my stupid, stupid hang-ups about us, and still she didn’t press me.
She didn’t push me for an answer to the question: but what about us?
A question she had every right to ask. But she didn’t.
Instead, she did everything she promised she would do.
She took care of me for twenty-four hours.
I knew I loved her then, because I let her.
That was nearly a week ago, but it feels like years have passed since.
The ward is completely full and several patients are close to critical.
A couple of new arrivals are disoriented and need near-constant reassurance to stave off panic attacks and outbursts.
Danny is not the only one who is end-of-life.
Every morning, I’ve been checking the nurses’ station desk for the candle and I’m half-surprised, half-relieved when it isn’t lit.
And even with all this, normal hospital challenges continue.
Management have been pushing back on the new ward upstairs – budget cuts are pending – and as the weather gets colder, more of my team are off with colds and bugs.
I’ve not worked a shift shorter than thirteen hours all week and I am half-expecting my day off tomorrow to be cancelled.
I tell myself this would be a good thing.
That it would give me an excuse to say no, should Sharon ask me for another twenty-four hours.
But as I look at her now, sitting by Danny’s side, her hand in his and Radio 1 playing softly in the background, I don’t think she will. I don’t think she should.
My attention is pulled away from Danny and Kate by a squeak of rubber on lino. I turn and see Deepak rolling up next to me. He’s regained enough strength in his arms that he can push himself around, and every single day he takes full advantage of that to come and visit Danny.
“How is he?” he asks me. His skin has regained its colour – a warm, light brown – and a little sparkle has returned to his dark eyes. I don’t have a medical explanation for it but I’m pretty sure it came back after he danced with Danny a week ago.
“Asleep,” I say. It’s not an answer but it’s the only one I want to give.
“Come sit with us,” Sharon says to Deepak and I wonder if she’s surprised I’m still here, when I said goodbye more than five minutes ago.
Deepak doesn’t need telling twice and he rolls down the side of Danny’s bed, opposite Sharon. He leans forward and places a hand on Danny’s stationary arm. “Hi, Sharon,” he says and they share a look and a smile.
“How are you feeling, Deepak?” Sharon asks.
He shrugs. “Okay, actually. My T-cell count is up too. Dr Lakshitha says if I continue like this I may get discharged next week. She called it a miracle after how bad I was.”
I know all this, of course. I was briefed on it in the meeting with the doctors earlier this morning, but what I was unaware of was how Deepak doesn’t exactly feel thrilled about it.
“That’s good news,” Sharon says. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I know it’s weird but I like it here.
I like… I like not having to explain myself.
Or worry about what somebody will think when they…
find out I have AIDS. I’m not out to a lot of people, you see,” he says and Sharon nods.
Something twinges in my stomach. “I feel safe here. And I like feeling safe.”
“Safe does feel good,” Sharon agrees and then she clears her throat. “But so does living life as fully as you possibly can. Taking risks,” her eyes dart to me and then away again, so quick it’s barely perceptible, “and being brave.”
Heat rushes up my spine.
Deepak is oblivious to the tension between Sharon and me. His eyes are fixed on Danny’s face. “I feel like that’s what Danny would say. Or maybe, how he lives his life.”
“Yes,” Sharon says, and she sniffs. “That’s exactly how Danny lives his life.”
“I’m so happy I met him,” Deepak says in such a level voice it unnerves me.
That a man in his early twenties who just a week ago was only inches from death himself can be so calm and composed in such a moment.
But maybe that’s why he is. Because he knows what death looks and smells like.
Because he knows death, he has a new outlook on life.
He blinks and his tone changes, with more lift in it. “When does his mum get here?”
Sharon clears her throat and shoots another quick look my way. “I’m not sure. She had some loose ends to tie up. But she said she’d be here as soon as possible,” her voice gets louder, “to see her Danny boy. She’s going to be here as soon as she can. So he has to hold on.”
“He will,” Deepak says confidently as Sharon quietly cries.
I’m not sure if it’s Sharon’s tears or Deepak’s earnestness but it feels like something is cracking my chest open and I don’t have time for this. Danny is not my only patient. So without saying goodbye, I turn and walk away, returning to the long list of tasks I need to do.
*****
I’m putting the finishing touches to the following month’s rota when Sharon finds me at the nurses’ station an hour or so after visiting hours have finished.
Unbelievably, it looks like I’m going to get my day off tomorrow so I know I have to tell Sharon that she can’t stay here tonight.
Another charge nurse will be in my place and it’s unlikely she’ll be as lenient – or biased, perhaps – as I’m being.
I’ve not told Sharon yet, I’m too afraid, but when she pops up in front of me, I take it as the sign it is.
“Are you busy?” she asks.
“No, not really. Why? What’s wrong? Is it Danny?”
“No, no,” Sharon glances back at Danny’s cubicle. “He’s asleep again. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I say and stash away all my paperwork. “Shall we go to the family room?”
Sharon nods and follows me in silence as I lead her there. Once the door is closed behind us, I hear her release a long, rough sigh.
“I need… you,” she says and takes a tentative step towards me.
A jolt of heat surges inside me, making my breath hitch.
“Do you have time?” she asks. “I want to make you come. I want to… I just want to do something other than feel like this huge impending doom is getting closer and closer. I want to feel something other than this crushing,” she brings a hand to her chest, “crushing sadness.”
I don’t have time. Sure, my shift is supposed to end in twenty minutes but I have enough left to do to keep me here another two hours, which I was planning on so that I can make sure I get my day off.
I shouldn’t do this. Not in the family room of all places, but I can’t stop myself.
I can’t stop my feet from closing the distance between us and I can’t hold back my hands from grabbing hold of Sharon’s face and slamming my lips on hers.
We haven’t done this since Sunday. It was as if an unspoken agreement was made between us that this wasn’t a week for sneaking into store cupboards or the Ladies for quick fucks and hard orgasms. For many reasons, I didn’t question it.
Sharon has been completely preoccupied with Danny and I made it very clear the limits I wanted, or thought I wanted, last weekend.
Twenty-four hours. That time passed long ago.
But I haven’t stopped wanting Sharon. I haven’t stopped stealing glances at her thick thighs, her full arse and her kissable neck.
I haven’t stopped daydreaming about how comfortable her bed is and not just because of her superior mattress but because she is there.
Her arms, her warmth, her grounding, reassuring presence.
I’ve missed it with a physical ache since I left it.
That’s why I kiss her hungrily, greedily, needily. Not even a full week of missing her and craving her but it feels like I’ve waited an eternity for her hot breath on my lips, her muffled moans travelling down my throat, and her wet tongue tangling with mine.
I only stop when I feel her hand start to pull the dress skirt of my uniform up. She’s lighting up every single nerve in my body as her fingertips drag over my stockings. I want to rip my clothes off for her. I want to straddle her, ride her, fuck her. I want to love her.
A door slamming somewhere else on the corridor outside jerks me back to reality.
“Wait,” I pull back, pressing my forehead to her lips. “Not like this. Anybody could walk in.”
“Lock the door,” she says, hurried and breathless. Her chest heaves against mine.
I shake my head. “Peter Hobart’s brother and his father are on their way. They may need the room.”
Sharon shifts her weight back. She understands what I’m saying perfectly.
“The Ladies then? Or the linen cupboard?”
My stomach churns with nausea. It feels wrong to even think about doing this in those spaces after we shared a bed and a day together like we did last weekend.
Which is just as well. It would only be a taunting taste of honey, reminding me what I’m missing. What I’m going to miss for the rest of my life.
“Not there, no,” I step back, taking myself away from temptation.
“Then come home with me tonight,” she says. “Danny will be fine for the night, I think. We can come back early tomorrow morning.”
Shaking my head again, I wrap an arm around my stomach. I can’t remember the last time it felt normal, felt settled. “No, you can’t come in early tomorrow. I’m not on duty and the stand-in charge nurse is a huge bitch. She’ll report me and…”
“Okay, well, that solves that problem. You come home with me and stay with me again. Give me twenty-four more hours.”
I wonder if this is how she used to talk in her job, all brisk words and solution-oriented. Confident and convincing. It’s very effective and I suppose Sharon will go back to work after all this. She has her whole life waiting for her.
“You only want twenty-four hours?” I surprise myself by asking.
Sharon’s eyes darken, earnest and clear.
“I want whatever you can give me,” she says.
“But I don’t have the energy to fight you for more.
My best friend is dying. My heart is already breaking.
I’m not sure I could hurt more than I am hurting so if you don’t want more than twenty-four hours, I’ll just take that. ”
“Sharon, I…” I start but can’t finish. My stomach continues to swim and now there’s a roaring in my ears, and chaos in my head.
She brings a hand to my arm and finds my hand. “Like I said, I don’t have the energy. But even if I did, I know I can’t make you want what I want. I know you have to figure out what you want and maybe it’s lazy or stupid of me, but I can’t help you with that.”
“You’re right,” I say and I’m not surprised my voice breaks. “You can’t.”
She sighs again, heavy and laboured. “So? Another twenty-four hours? And after that we’ll deal with whatever comes our way.”
“What about Danny’s mum? What if she gets here tomorrow?”
“She won’t,” Sharon explains quickly. “I called again earlier.”
I narrow my eyes. “She does know that there isn’t much time to spare?”
“She does. She doesn’t drive, you see. Says she has to wait until Monday to get the train.”
My frown deepens but when Sharon’s eyes gloss over with tears, I smooth it away.
“Twenty-four hours?”
“Unless,” Sharon says, “they call me back in. If Danny is close… and I want to come in for visiting hours regardless.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“So?” she asks, and it sounds and feels like a challenge. It’s like the first version of Sharon who I met at the still-broken vending machine in the corridor just outside. As much as that woman irritated me, it’s now comforting to see her again.
“Twenty-four hours,” I agree. “Or as long as you can.”
Sharon seems to find something amusing in what I just said but she doesn’t give me time to ask what it is. Instead, she kisses my fingers and softly says, “Come on, let’s go home.”