‘I was in this morning, 7a.m. I’ll be in again tomorrow, same time. I’ve been juggling both.’
‘You never said.’
‘I did, but those drugs have made you forget.’
Usually, he’d suspect her of lying but he had woken earlier thinking he was in a bed at the fire station, and last night, he’d had a dream he was a tortoise doing his best to win a race. He supposed his mother had a point.
He hauled himself up against his pillows, which Marianne adjusted for him. ‘I don’t want you to lose this job.’
‘I don’t want to either.’ She checked her phone when it pinged. ‘That’s your brother; he’s home safely. I insisted he text me when he arrived.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘He was here last night to see you.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘I only knew because one of the nurses told me. She said he came right at the end of visiting hours; they almost didn’t let him in. I called him once I’d spoken to the nurse and he said he hadn’t been able to hang around for long because Saffy is away at her parents’ and he’d left the kids with a sitter.’ She tutted. ‘I said he should’ve brought them here and I could’ve looked after them.’
‘You have a job.’ And there was no way Marco would’ve trusted Marianne with his kids.
‘I suppose.’ She pulled his phone from her bag. ‘Here, all charged up – you and he can message each other or FaceTime.’
‘Cheers, Mum. Did you and he talk?’
She shook her head. ‘I think that’s why he came so late: so he could avoid me.’
When the doctor came around, the focus turned to him rather than his mum or Marco. They talked about the operation to repair the patella, the triangular bone at the front of the knee. The doctor answered his questions and also the surprising amount his mum asked. They discussed what his recovery would involve and by the time the doc left, Gio was exhausted. His mum went to get a coffee and he must have fallen asleep because when he woke again, she was settled in a chair at his bedside reading a magazine.
‘You’ve been asleep a while,’ she told him.
‘Feels like five minutes.’
‘That’s because your body needs to heal. I don’t mind; go back to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.’
There was something about her words and the way she said it that almost had him choking back tears. It was the sort of thing he would’ve liked to have heard as a boy when he fell over andcut himself, if he was struggling at school, when he was missing his dad after he walked out on them.
‘Sleep is a waste of time,’ he claimed before he closed his eyes yet again and didn’t wake until it was dark beyond the windows of the ward. Bleeping from machines – his and others’ – the low hum of nurses conversing beside the bed opposite his, the louder voices passing by outside the ward, all of it a new landscape right now and for at least another couple of days. Then he’d need physiotherapy and occupational therapy to get him moving around and eventually back to work.
‘So, work tomorrow morning,’ said Gio after his mum passed him the cup of water from his tray table and he took a sip. ‘You should get going, get some sleep yourself.’
‘I’d better.’ And she leaned over, kissed him on the forehead.
‘Goodnight, Mum.’
He FaceTimed his brother next, still unable to believe he’d missed his visit. But it was good to see him now. He brushed aside Marco’s lecture that he shouldn’t rush his recovery, that he had to take it easy whether he liked it or not. It reminded him of how his brother had always looked out for him over the years.
And then he slept yet again, surprising even himself.
The following day, with his mother hopefully at her job – she hadn’t shown up at the hospital, which was a good sign – the surgeon came by to examine Gio’s knee.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Not bad at all.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, taking off the disposable gloves now he’d finished his exam. ‘And now the truth.’
‘All right, there’s a bit of pain and swelling but it’s honestly not so bad.’
