Harris seems pleased with his new cane. Well, I don’t know if ‘pleased’ is the right word; more like ‘relieved to not be on crutches’. But that’s something positive. God knows, with Dad chasing Gavin Donovan all over the district, Nani calling to ask me if I think Apu would like a new suit to wear to the wedding, Robbie harassing me about the residency and Nick’s updates about his planned departure, the last week has had a serious lack of positive.
I finish re-dressing Harris’s leg, then pull my lanyard over my head. Today’s shift was draining: two patients on the ward have gastro. I just want to go home, shower and change my clothes before flopping on my bed. But I still have to call Nani tonight, and make dinner. Dad has said won’t be back until late.
‘Tired, eh?’ Harris eases himself off the examination table, tugging the drawstring of his trackies tight again.
I shrug. ‘Joys of nursing. And I smell like crap.’
‘Nah, you don’t,’ Harris says.
‘Yeah, I do.’ I grimace. ‘I mean, I literally do – bedpan duty. Don’t worry, I’ve scrubbed all the way up to my elbows.’
‘Joys of nursing.’ Harris makes an amused face. ‘You smell all right.’ He colours, glances away. ‘So you’re heading home now?’
‘Yeah. You’re my last port of call.’ I smile as he tries out the cane, takes a few tentative steps. Then I remember. ‘Oh shit, I was gonna give you the keys.’
‘The what?’
I tear off my glove, flapping a hand. ‘Nick gave me the spare keys for the Subaru. He forgot to pass them on the day you bought it. I wrote it down, to bring them, but I’ve bloody left them behind.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll just drop you home and I can get them. Or did you drive in?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got my car.’
‘I’ll follow then.’ He seems happy to be able to say that. ‘I mean, if you’re okay with me coming to your house…’
‘Sure, it’s fine,’ I say, flapping again. ‘Just let me sign off?’
On the drive back, I glance in the rear-view and see Harris following behind me. It’s a bit weird seeing him at the wheel of Nick’s car. But I don’t feel bad about putting the hard word on Nick to sell low: Harris needed a ride and I know he’s broke.
Harris has named the car the Pitbull, and it sounds as if he’s spent the last week tuning the engine to a humming growl. The car seems to suit him. I don’t know if it’s had any other material effect, except to make Harris feel better, which I guess helps. But whenever I ask him about work, or his father, or where he’s going from here, he deflects. Things are obviously still far from okay.
He’s bloody gutsy, though, I’ll give him that.
When we arrive at my place I show him into the house. ‘I won’t be a sec. The keys are in my room.’ And I can go and get changed out of my horrible work clothes, into something more normal. ‘You okay to loiter here?’
Harris leans his cane against a chair. ‘I can loiter.’
‘Great. One minute.’
One minute is all I need to dash down to my room, strip off my yucky nursing gear and pull on some cut-offs under a yellow sundress and a purple cardigan. No shower, but clean clothes will have to do. I’m balanced on the edge of my bed, slinging my boots on, when I hear Harris’s voice in the hallway.
‘Um, Amie?’
‘Yeah?’ I poke my head out, yanking the elastic band out of my plait.
‘Your dad’s not home, is he?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ I don’t remember seeing Dad’s stuff on the table. ‘Sometimes he comes home at lunch to tinker on his cars, but it depends on what sort of day he’s having.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ Harris looks nervous, listing in the hallway.
I grin to reassure him. ‘He won’t bite your head off or anything.’
‘Sure.’ His right hand shoves deeper into his trackie pocket. ‘I just thought, y’know, he might not be cool with me being in the house –’
‘Harris, it’s fine. I invited you in.’ I’ve got my hair mostly unravelled now. ‘Oh – hang on. The keys.’
I dart back for them. While I’m still rummaging amidst the crap on my desk, Harris leans around into the doorway.
