I’m staying at Westie’s place.
My brain was kind of spinning around inside my skull all week with the question of what I was gonna do once they discharged me. I even reached a point where I considered picking out my stitches to buy myself some time.Just a couple more days, my brain squawked,a couple more days to sort this out… Being desperate is like being drunk: even stupid ideas seem plausible when you’ve reached the bottom of the barrel.
The closer I got to discharge day the more claustrophobic I felt. That’s how Amie found me crutching around near the picnic table beside the nurse’s housing unit – the outside exercise was my physio’s orders, but being outside was kind of necessary.
‘Harris!’ Her face was lit up like fireworks. ‘Now, don’t get mad, okay? But I’ve got a proposition for you…’
Where has this girl come from? Seriously, who does this shit? Who goes out of their way for a total stranger? Okay, not a stranger, but still – I’m no family to her, just some guy from ancient history. We barely crossed paths in high school.
But…I trust her. I trust her, and I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because she trusted me first. She didn’t have to tell me that memory about her mum, didn’t have to visit me that night at all. Jesus, the last time I left the hospital I blanked her. In my experience, kicking someone in the teeth like that means you have to watch out for the kick back. But not this girl. For some reason, Amie doesn’t seem to play by the usual rules of engagement.
Now it’s Friday, and Amie’s giving me a lift to Mark West’s place. However this happened, I’m glad for the breathing room. There’s still Dad to deal with, and his debts, and the information I’m owed about my mum and my sister. I’ve gotta get back on my feet, I’ve gotta find a job.
I don’t tell Amie all the ‘gottas’ as I collect my crap from the side table. My jacket, my wallet, a white paper bag of antibiotics and wound dressings and sterile swabs – that’s it. I’m the only guy in the whole hospital who doesn’t have a bag to pack. That should make me feel depressed; right now, it just makes me feel light.
Amie’s smiling as she passes my other crutch over. ‘Glad to be leaving?’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ I don’t mention I’m even gladder the place I’m going to isn’t mine.
Barb Dunne gives me a clipboard of paperwork to sign. ‘Yes, Mr Derwent, it was nice of you to drop in, but don’t be offended if I say we’d prefer you visited less often, all right?’
‘I’ll do my best.’ I grin, sign where directed, hand back the clipboard.
‘Wonderful.’ She gives me a pat on the shoulder. ‘Take care of yourself, Harris.’
Out in the hallway, Amie gives me a prod. ‘You’ve got all the wound care supplies from Barb, that’s good. What about your appointment schedule? Your physio sheets?’
‘Yes, ma’am. All sorted.’
‘Remember, if you need anything you can give the hospital a call, or just drop by whenever you like. Mark’s place is only a few blocks away.’
Which seems like as good a moment as any to point something out. ‘You don’t have to drive me, you know. I could walk over just as easy.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Amie says. ‘I’m off shift now, anyway.’
‘I crutched eight kay along a dirt road for a beer. Pretty sure I can handle three blocks.’
‘I want to,’ she insists.
That gives me a little shine inside. The only sour moment comes when we get out into the foyer area. Nick Partridge is just clipping on his nametag as we pass by – Amie flags him with a wave. ‘Another extra?’
‘Another extra, yes.’ He makes a tight smile, but maybe that’s got nothing to do with me. He already looks tired.
Amie, by contrast, looks like she’s glowing. ‘I’m just helping Harris get to his new place.’
‘So I see.’ I dunno how he can see anything. He seems to be deliberately not looking in my direction.
Amie pushes a little. ‘How’s the car sale going?’
‘It’s going,’ Nick says. Then he seems to chill a bit, makes a face. ‘But, y’know, it’s not a ute. I’ve had a few calls but not many folks want an automatic.’
‘I want an automatic,’ I say. It just pops out.
‘What?’ Nick says.
‘Hey, that’s right.’ Amie looks at me. ‘You can’t get around in a manual, can you?’
