AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, thanks. I’ve already had about six cups of coffee.”
He laughs. The door closes and I’m alone again. Jesus, I wish Nick was here to cuddle me and tell me everything’s going to be all right. It feels like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, with no one to help lighten the load. I don’t even have my phone to call my mother and let her know what’s going on. My brain is like a sieve when it comes to memorising numbers, so I’ll have to wait till I get home and go through Dad’s old phone book.
Miserably, I fill out the consent form. My stomach is in knots. Despite Dr Noble’s cheerful exterior, I sense that there’s a lot he’s not telling me. Is he really as confident about my dad’s chances of survival as he’s making out? And what the hell is this MRI scan? It all sounds so bloody morbid.
Five minutes later, a nurse called Issey arrives and takes me up to Churchill Ward on the third floor. The place is absolutely teeming with people and there’s a constant sense of urgency in the air. Nervously, I follow Issey down the long, winding corridor to a small side room where I find my father lying in a bed with tubes coming out of his body. He’s dressed in a flimsy blue hospital gown which makes his arms and legs look frighteningly emaciated.
I am in shock. I can’t believe I haven’t notice how skinny he is. With his penchant for baggy tops and hipster jeans, Dad’s managed to hide the true extent of his deteriorating health, and this realisation cuts me to the core. Why, oh why didn’t I try harder to get him to take his medication and quit smoking those damn joints?
In a numb haze, I stare down at my beloved father, my throat clogged with tears. He looks so weak and frail, I am in no doubt how close to death he is.My God, I really think I’m going to lose him.
“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Issey says softly.
For long moments, I continue to stand there frozen. Finally, he opens his eyes and blinks at me a couple of times. His lids are red and swollen, his skin an ashy-grey colour. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just smiles a weak, lopsided smile. I can see it hurts him to do it so I tell him to stop.
Reaching down, I gently take his hand in mine and finally, I start to crack. My tears fall slowly, bitterly. Grief turns to anger as the full seriousness of the situation hits me, and I realise just how easily this could have been avoided. Why the hell couldn’t Dad have listened to what the doctor told him? Why couldn’t he have just taken those damn blood pressure pills? Thanks to his carelessness, my father now faces the possibility of life in a wheelchair and for what? Getting a few cheap highs? Was it really worth all this pain and suffering?
There’s so much I want to say to him; so much I want to get off my chest, but now is not the right time. In this delicate state, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, and God knows the last thing he needs is more stress to bring on another stroke. No, for the sake of peace, I must keep my mouth shut and offer only my love and support. After all, who knows how much time we have left together? The doctor says Dad will make a full recovery, but what if he doesn’t?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Frozen
For the next twenty minutes, I stay by Dad’s bedside, soothing him and telling him everything’s going to be okay. I let him know that Dr Noble is very optimistic and that he just needs to focus on getting better. Then, with a heavy heart, I say goodbye and pick up a taxi to take me home. I hate to leave my father in this state, but I simply must get some sleep. If not, I won’t be able to do the things that need doing; now is not the time to have a breakdown. I need to hold it together for Dad’s sake.
A little after eleven, I’m back in Battersea.
“Could you hold on a minute?” I say, unclipping my seatbelt. “I just need to run inside and get the money.”
“No problem,” the cabbie smiles.
Jumping out the car, I race across the street, braving the morning chill in my dressing gown and slippers. With frozen hands, I let myself in using Dad’s front door keys, race to his bedroom and retrieve a wad of twenty pound notes from the dresser. Then I head straight back outside and settle the fare.
When the taxi’s gone, I return to the house feeling totally empty inside. I’m a zombie working on autopilot, lost in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I’m still having trouble processing what’s happened.
In a daze, I stumble up to the bathroom. Approaching the sink, I run the cold tap and splash some water on my face. I glance at my reflection. My eyes are swollen from crying and my cheeks are streaked with mascara. I bathe my face a second time and beg my fingers to stop trembling. I peek back at my reflection.
Damn it.
The mascara stains don’t want to go. Cupping a handful of water, I aggressively rub the skin under my eyes, but this only makes it worse. Now it looks like I’ve been punched in the face.
Finally I give up, pat my skin dry and return downstairs. I want so badly to sleep, but first I need to phone my mother to break the news about Dad. As I pass through the hall to the living room, something stops me in my tracks and makes me do a double-take. Frowning, I walk toward the shoe rack by the door, my eyes as wide as saucers. On the bottom shelf sits a pair of round-toed ankle boots—the same ones I wore to the restaurant last night and left at Nick’s house.
Oh my God!What does this mean?
Incredulously, I crouch down to examine them more closely. Yes, no doubt about it, those are definitely the same boots. There’s even mud still on the heels. Biting my thumbnail, I go to the kitchen and survey all of the work surfaces. Then I go to the living room and almost have a heart attack.
Mydove clutch bag is lying on the coffee table.
Fuck!
I lunge on it and empty the entire contents onto the floor. Everything is present and accounted for: my phone, my purse, my make-up, my house keys.
Shit.Nick has been in the house today, but how did he get in? I’m certain the front and back doors were locked and the police officer made sure all of the windows were closed before we left in the ambulance. I chew my lip perplexedly. Fleetingly, my mind races back to the strange dream I had a few weeks ago, the one where Nick came through my bedroom window in a billowing whitemist.
Holy Mother of God.Is this proof that hedoeshave supernatural abilities after all?
Rigidly, I continue to crouch on the floor,thinking about the whole situation. The idea of Nick being a vampire is beyond crazy, but what other explanation can there be? Standing up, I return to the front door and double check that it’s definitely locked, then I inspect every window of every room of the house. When I’m satisfied that I’m definitely alone, I go back to the living room to try and figure it out.
