Chapter 17 #4
‘Thank God, because I might need that hospital bed at this rate,’ he gasped, collapsing red-faced into the vacant chair beside the bed. Alice rolled her eyes at her brother’s dramatic entrance.
‘What happened, darling? Are you hurt?’ Mum asked, her forehead puckered with worry as she stroked my hair back from my face, the way she always did when I was young and came home with a grazed knee and a tear-stained face.
‘I’m fine, Mum, really.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t call three fractured ribs and five stitches fine,’ Alice muttered pointedly. Mum’s hand flew to her mouth in horror and I threw Alice a look that told her she wasn’t helping.
‘What’s all this Jacob was telling me on the drive over about you having – visions of Joe ?
’ Mum whispered, her eyes wide with worry as she pushed the already tightly tucked bedding further down the side of the bed.
Both Alice and I turned to look at Jacob, whose cheeks turned an even deeper shade of beetroot.
‘I’m sorry, she practically forced it out of me,’ Jacob babbled apologetically. ‘Plied me with that Tupperware of biscuits she keeps in the glove compartment of her car.’
‘Ah yes, that well-known torture technique. I’m surprised you lived to tell the tale,’ Alice snorted, reaching over and flicking crumbs from the front of his shirt. Jacob swatted his sister’s hand away with an irritated scowl.
‘Is it true, Jenny? Have you been having these, these—’
‘Grief hallucinations,’ Alice finished as Mum floundered for the correct terminology.
Mum nodded, pointing at Alice. ‘Yes, those.’
I wriggled uncomfortably beneath the sheets, suddenly wanting very much to pull them up and over my head. ‘Yes,’ I admitted, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
‘And how long has this been going on, exactly?’ She looked first at me, then at Alice, then at Jacob, who started whistling the tune of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’.
‘Since Joe’s funeral,’ Alice eventually answered.
‘That long?!’ Mum exclaimed, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.
‘I thought you said they’d stopped?’ Jacob frowned.
‘She lied,’ Alice replied for me.
‘Oh, Jenny,’ Mum sighed, her hand coming to rest on my arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.’
‘Sorry Jenny, I should never have said anything,’ Jacob prattled to my right. ‘It’s just that your mum can be very persuasive when she wants to be—’
‘I thought I heard you talking to yourself in your room a few times, but I just assumed you were on the phone or something,’ Mum muttered, more to herself than me, her eyes shining with some newfound understanding as she connected the dots.
I raked my fingers through my hair, wincing as my nail snagged against one of my stitches.
It was too much, the questions coming at me from all sides, the heavy looks of concern like a weight pressing hard against my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
‘—and then she got the shortbread out,’ Jacob continued.
‘Jacob, no one cares about the sodding shortbread,’ Alice tutted.
‘Well, it’s relevant, Alice. You know shortbread’s my weakness. I didn’t just cave for a bloody rich tea.’
‘I’m your mother, I should have known something was wrong. I just never dreamt you were talking to your dead—’
‘ Yes! ’ It came out louder than intended, the thing winding tighter and tighter inside of me finally snapping.
‘Yes, I’ve been seeing my dead fiancé. Yes, I’ve been talking to him and going to our favourite places with him and blowing you guys off to spend time with him.
And yes, I know that’s not healthy, but I don’t know how else to do this. To do life without him.’
I’m not sure what made me look up in that moment.
Why I tore my eyes from the polyester bed sheets polka-dotted with my tears.
Maybe it was the sound of laughter drifting up the corridor from the nearby nurses’ station.
Or the sudden intake of breath echoing in the silence that followed my words.
Or perhaps I just felt him. Standing there in the doorway, three cups balanced in a cardboard coffee holder in one hand, a bunch of cellophane-wrapped flowers in the other.
They were aggressively bright, sunshine-yellow daffodils and clashing orange gerbera daisies, like they were trying too hard to be cheerful.
But I wasn’t looking at the flowers. My eyes were fixed on Luca’s face.
It was blank, unreadable, but there was something wrong with his eyes – a pain that he was trying very hard to hide.
I felt a spasm of unease twist in my gut. How long had he been standing there?
‘You’ve been seeing Joe this whole time?
’ His voice cracked, split open by the sharp sting of betrayal as all my worst fears were confirmed.
The beeping next to me was going crazy, my heart threatening to leap out my chest at the pain etched into Luca’s brow as I watched the shadow of the past darken his features.
‘It’s not what you think—’ I began, tripping over the words in my haste to get them all out at once, to stop the wall I could see going up, brick by brick, behind Luca’s eyes. He cleared his throat, not looking at me.
‘The nurse said you’re only allowed three visitors at a time, so I’m going to head out.’ His voice was emotionless as he set the coffees down on the table, looking around as if unsure of what to do with the flowers before thrusting them into Jacob’s lap.
‘Luca, please don’t go!’ I called after him. But it was too late.
He was already gone.