Chapter 50
Dirk
I’m awkward with theyellow roses. There weren’t enough at the first florist, so I visited a couple more and bought them out. The bunch is huge and it’s a mess. The final florist offered to rewrap them all for me, but I was in a rush.
On the passenger seat, I untie the first yellow ribbon and retie it around the lot. Their stems are different lengths. The thorns prick my fingers. Is this a suitable gift for someone in intensive care? Too late, I remember the hospital won’t have a vase big enough. This bunch will take up the whole bed tray.
It’s late; way past visiting hours, but Enrico on night reception recognizes me and lets me in.
“Doc O’Connell,” he says and salutes me.
“Enrico. How’s your family?”
“Three more grandkids, Doc.”
“Congratulations.”
“Know where you’re going?”
“Unless the wards have all changed.”
“No big changes, Doc.”
I sprint up the fire stairs, the ones I used when I needed to get through rounds in a hurry, or on the odd occasion when I had famous patients, and the media tried to grab me for comments.
I’m puffing by the time I reach the seventh floor. Lucy was right. We should walk together in the evenings. So what if I cry at the scent of orange blossom. So what if she sees my tears? More than anything, I want to share my memories with Lucy, and make more – many more – together.
The light’s still on in her room; just the lamp behind the bed. She leans back against the pillows in a hospital gown. Her eyes are closed as I reach the door, but they flutter open, their lenses dark, then brighter as she recognizes me.
I try to hide the blooms behind my back, suddenly shy, wondering if I’ve made a mistake. She was furious just before she had the attack. Will I be welcome?
“Dirk?” Her voice is croaky. She clears her throat and speaks again. “Doc O’Connell? You’re the last person I expected to see.”
“I need to apologize to you, Lucy.”
She has the grace to stay silent. I wouldn’t blame her for lashing out. Is it wrong for me to be here? I don’t want to trigger another heart attack, but I’ve spoken to my colleagues. As I suspected – Myocardial Infarction, the gradual narrowing of her arteries, and a heart attack brought on by intense stress. She mentioned her mother died early, perhaps of this. These days, patients are stabilized and given stents. Lucy’s likely to be fine now.
“May I come in?”
She nods.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Lucy.”
Her silence punishes me. Where is her easy smile? But I deserve this. I lapped up her attention for weeks, for months. I batted her away, repelled her advances, used her when it suited me, then gave her a hard time about her job.
The chair is full of spare pillows and an extra blanket. I don’t want to lord it over her, so I drop to my knees beside the bed. An old injury sparks pain up my thigh and I close my eyes for a moment.
When I open them, her eyes are on mine, and I close mine again in relief. She hasn’t forced me out, not yet.
I hold up the roses.
“This is a ridiculous amount of roses, Dirk. What is this? Are you going into floristry?”
“I wanted to say sorry about the apartment – that you missed out – and to ask for a second chance.”
