‘He always hated it.’ She chuckled. ‘Said it made him stick out like a sore thumb.’
It still does.
A brief shadow passed across her face. ‘It also reminded him of his dad and he really hated that.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Fin wrung his hands, wondering how much of a terrible human he would be if he left now.
‘Are you close with your parents?’ she asked brightly.
Change the subject. Say anything to change the subject!
‘Erm, not really.’
His mother shook her head. ‘We stopped talking, my son and I. A long time ago now.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Fin had no idea what to do next. Part of him wanted to get up and leave without saying anotherword. Another part of him was intrigued at hearing his mother talk about him in this way.
‘It is. He was such a good little boy.’ She sighed.
‘I’m sure he was. Anyway, how are you feeling today?’ he asked, trying to divert the conversation.
‘He doesn’t understand,’ his mother cut across him forcefully. ‘He never understood why I loved his father so much.’ She pointed to the wedding photograph standing proudly on her bedside table.
Fin could feel the cold tendrils of anxiety snake up through his chest and into his throat, closing down his airway so all he could do was nod meekly. Images of his father flashed through his mind, each memory as toxic and painful as the last.
‘But love doesn’t make sense, does it? I thought things would change. I thought we could get through anything together.’
Fin’s fists were balled so tightly he started to feel the prickles of pins and needles in the ends of his fingers. He needed to leave; he couldn’t stand hearing any more. But his mother continued, blissfully unaware.
‘They say love is the most powerful drug in the world. Have you ever been in love …?’ She paused.
‘Erm …’ Was he really going to get into this conversation? His brain was so full of thoughts he couldn’t think straight.
‘Sorry,’ his mum apologised. ‘Look at me asking such personal questions, and I don’t even know your name! Are you a new nurse here?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Fin stood, quickly latching on to the ready-made excuse she’d just handed him.
Her face fell. ‘Are you going already?’
‘I have to,’ he stated firmly. ‘I only came in to do a quick check-up.’
‘Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer? You remind me so much of my son and I haven’t seen him in such a long time. It’s nice to look at you and pretend he’s here!’ she pleaded.
‘No.’ He brushed himself down and turned to leave. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go. Someone will be in to see you later.’
‘Oh. OK then.’ Her sallow face sagged with disappointment. ‘Goodbye then.’
*
Fin helped himself to another biscuit and clasped his hands tightly around his steaming mug of tea. Normally Nurse Clara would bring the drinks out into reception – that way she could still keep a watchful eye over proceedings – but today was different. Today she’d invited him into the private little nurses’ room, tucked away at the back of the building.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Fin?’ she pressed, eyeing him warily over the rim of her cup. ‘It’s always difficult the first time.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Did she recognize you?’
‘In a way.’ He closed his eyes. ‘She said I looked like her son.’
