I shake my head. ‘Not unless I can use my crutches to operate the clutch.’
It’s a crazy idea, but suddenly I want a car. I’ve had my license for years, but I’ve always been too broke to own. I’m used to walking around, riding a dirtbike, borrowing mates’ cars, or in a pinch, hitch-hiking. But I remember how it felt to be out at the Five Mile house, stuck on the property with Dad because I couldn’t simply drive away. Even that hard painful walk to the pub, the night I ended up back in hospital, was a result of my lack of transport.
So it’s a crazy idea that’s suddenly become hugely appealing. Could I pay off a car? A side-of-the-road deal, maybe. I’ve got enough mechanical know-how to fix something up. I could ask Mike Watts, or even Rachel, for a short-term loan… The idea makes me pause. But I’m kinda drunk on the thought of living away from Dad – anything could happen.
Amie nudges Nick’s arm. ‘Well, you’re pricing pretty low, aren’t you, Nick?’
‘Ye-es,’ he says.
‘So that’s perfect!’ Amie says. ‘You could sell your car to Harris.’
‘Uh, yeah, Ames –’ Nick says.
‘S’okay.’ I wave a hand, giving the guy an out. ‘It’s your car, man, it’s your call.’
‘Well, I am trying to get rid of it…’ Nick’s gaze slides over me, finally settles somewhere near my eyes. ‘I mean, it’s close by, and it’s cheap.’
‘Sounds pretty good.’
‘It’s a shitbox,’ Nick admits.
‘It probably just needs a tune,’ Amie says.
‘No,’ Nick says, looking at me properly, ‘it really is a shitbox. But it’s a cheap close shitbox. So it’s kind of up to you.’
‘Even driving a bomb sounds better than walking right now,’ I say, lifting one crutch a few inches off the floor. I have to balance on my good leg to do it.
‘Fair enough.’ Nick nods. ‘I’m in town here, anyway. Amie’s got my number if you want to come and have a look at it.’
‘Excellent!’ Amie pats my arm. ‘Gimme a sec, I’ve just got to hand in my lanyard and make sure I’ve signed off.’
She walks further down the hall to the nurse’s station. I don’t realise how my eyes are glued to her until Nick clears his throat beside me. ‘You guys know each other from the local FNL, yeah?’
‘Uh, yeah.’ I try to give Nick my full attention. ‘Yeah, but it was a while ago. We never really had much to do with each other in school.’
‘I know. Amie told me.’ He’s giving me a funny look, and I wonder what Amie’s told him exactly. ‘And then you arrived here.’
‘Yep. Then I arrived here.’ Which seems to pretty much sum up that whole mess. My gaze wanders back down the hall, where Amie is a small figure talking to another larger figure, the charge nurse.
‘Right,’ Nick says. The tone of his voice makes me look over, but he’s just unslinging his backpack, getting ready for work. ‘Good luck with your recovery. Hope it goes okay. Gimme a call if you really want the car.’
He walks off, not waiting for my thanks. Amie arrives by my side again as I’m wondering what the guy’s problem is. I forget about it as Amie leads the way outside to the parking bay.
‘Jump in,’ she says.
I squeeze myself into the front passenger seat of her little two-door Holden, shifting the seat all the way back. Amie passes in my crutches one at a time until they’re stuffed in between my knees, before running around to the driver’s side.
It feels kinda weird being in a confined space with her, out of the hospital. I’m very aware of where my hands are, how much room I take up.
‘You good?’
I nod. ‘I’m good.’
‘Okay, buckle up.’
Once she’s sure I’ve done my seatbelt she starts the engine, pulls the car out. We pass the sign for the hospital at the exit and I can’t help it: a smile breaks over my face. I must’ve gone past these old houses on Britt Street a million times, but it all seems like a new landscape now.
I wasn’t joking when I said it was close. It takes less than five minutes to reach the white fibro place on Scott Street, near the old Masonic Temple hall. Amie pulls up on the verge.
