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‘Unless she’s a match,’ he says. ‘And if she’s a match…’
‘If she’s a match then, thank the Lord.’ I choke back tears. I stand up and the stupid metal bench creaks loudly again. ‘Excuse me,’ I say, ‘I have to get back to my child.’
‘Heather, wait, I didn’t mean…’ he starts.
I keep my back to him as I open the door and step inside.
TWENTY-TWO
KAYLA
Mam is pale like a ghost when she comes back in but at least she’s not holding that paper coffee cup that’s she been clinging to for the last couple of hours. One of the nurses gave it to her earlier. I think they were worried she was going to faint or something. To be honest, I can’t say I blame them. She looked awful. I don’t think she drank it though because she looks even worse now.
‘And then they ’jected me,’ Molly says, and I drag my eyes away from Mam and drop them onto Molly’s arm. She’s pointing to the colourful plaster on the squishy bit inside her elbow. ‘It was so hurty.’
‘They injected me too,’ I say, showing Molly the cannula in the back of my hand.
‘Ew. Yuck,’ she says. ‘I don’t want one like that.’
I laugh. Dad laughs too. Mam doesn’t laugh. Mam is pressed up against the door, with her back leaning against it.She’s smiling, but she’s not really here at all, I think, as I watch her stare into space. I really wish she’d drink some coffee.
There are two chairs beside my bed. They’re both black plastic with wobbly metal legs. They’re exactly like the ones we have in school. Dad sits in one and Molly sits in the other. Well, when I say sits, I meanclimbs on, climbs under, runs around, but she’s taken a liking to it and calls itherchair.
‘Molly calm down,’ Dad says, and has said several times. ‘They gave her a lollipop downstairs,’ he explains. ‘She’s a bit hyper.’
‘Yeah.’ I shrug. ‘They love to give lollipops here.’
‘It’s was brown,’ Molly says, flopping into the chair and sending it sliding back against the floor tiles with a brain-numbing screech.
Dad catches the back of the chair, and Molly, before they both tumble over. Molly hops up again, oblivious. It’s hard not to laugh especially because Dad’s about to blow his top.
‘I don’t like brown,’ Molly says. ‘But it was a yummy lollipop, so I like brown now.’
‘That simple, eh?’ I say.
Molly talks and talks. She tells a story about a Lego tower, and her teacher’s cross voice and something about a meany-head boy in her class. She asks me some questions too, about school and my friends. Everything is just like normal with Molly. She doesn’t look at me any differently. Not like Dad, who’s useless at keeping it together. I think he’s nearly started crying at least twice since he came in. And Charlotte couldn’t even be in here. She gave me a hug and said she needed to use the loo. That was ages ago. So unless it’s a number two, which she’d never do in a public loo, she’s just avoiding me.
And Mam. The state of Mam. I mean, I’m the one who had half my knee chiselled out, but Mam actually looks as if they chiselled out half her soul or something at the same time. I hate what this is doing to her. She’s standing like Gran. All slouched and droopy. This stupid cancer is turning my mother into an old lady. I hate it.
I try to move over in my bed. I press my hands onto the mattress at either side of me and the bed bounces as I slide my bum to one side. Imove my good leg first. The bad one is a little tricky to move. It’s mega heavy after the operation and there’s a monster cast on there. It’s hard at the back and soft at the front with a tonne of padding all around my knee making it impossible to bend, so I kind of have to move my hip and foot all at once and hope my leg moves in the process. It does, and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt.
‘You okay, chicken?’ Dad says, noticing me shuffle. ‘Are you uncomfortable? Can I help?’
Mam looks over and I can see the worry in her eyes immediately.
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I’m just making some room for Mam to sit beside me.’
I pat the mattress and smile at Mam. She smiles back and peels herself off the door.
‘Are you sure?’ Mam says, looking at the space I’ve made for her. ‘I don’t want to bounce the bed and hurt you.’
‘Please,’ I say, ‘I’d really like a hug.’
‘Okay,’ Mam says.
She’s so careful lowering herself onto the bed that Molly offers to help.
‘Is it too high up for you, Heather?’ Molly says.
