The nurse looked shocked by his outburst. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Laurence, I wish I could give you a definitive answer but unfortunately, I can’t put a timeline on your son’s recovery. For now, he’s doing well and that’s all I can tell you. Given the extent of his injuries, we can only take it hour by hour.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, abashed. ‘I’m just so worried.’ He sat back down on the chair, chastened.
When the nurse had finished and left us alone again, I turned to my husband. I couldn’t bear to be near him for a moment longer.
‘I need some space, Hugo,’ I said. ‘Please can you give me some time alone?’
He looked stunned by my request. ‘Space?’ he spat. ‘I have as much right as you to be here. Our son is in intensive care in case you had forgotten.’
‘Because of you!’ I reminded him.
‘Sure…’ he said, shaking his head, clearly annoyed with what I was saying. ‘I’ll go get a coffee. I need to stretch my legs anyway.’
Once Hugo had left the room, I leant in close to my son’s battered body.
‘Wake up, baby boy,’ I begged. ‘I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I’d never survive it.’ I prayed he would pull through. This was allmy fault. I was his mother. I was supposed to protect him. The day he was born and they placed the pink, wriggling newborn onto my chest and I had breathed him in, I had sworn there and then that I would always do whatever it took to protect him. But I hadn’t done that. I could suddenly see it all so clearly. I had believed coming from a two-parent home was the best for Elliot because I had lacked that stability growing up but I now realised with sickening remorse that I had harmed my son by staying in such a dysfunctional marriage. By staying with Hugo, I thought I had been doing the right thing but all the time it was doing damage to Elliot. What kind of mother was I? And now he was paying the ultimate price.
Not long after Hugo had gone, I heard someone coming into the room behind me: soft steps, tentative. I assumed it was one of the medical staff but when I heard a familiar voice ask, ‘Can we come in?’ I turned around and saw Liv and Jay standing there.
‘Liv!’ I cried, so relieved to see my friend’s face. ‘How did you get in here?’
She turned towards her husband. ‘Jay knows a few people; he pulled in a few favours,’ she admitted. ‘They said we can visit for a few minutes but we can go if you’d rather not see us,’ she went on. Her face was tear-stained and her eyes were red.
I shook my head. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, moving closer and taking me in her arms. She nodded towards Elliot. ‘How’s he doing?’ I could see she was shocked by his appearance.
‘They’ve had to put him into an induced coma to help deal with the swelling on his brain. He also has a fractured eye socket,’ I added numbly as if I was talking about somebody else, not my son.
‘Maya, I feel awful,’ Jay said, following after her. ‘If I had known something like this would happen… I never would have opened my goddamned mouth!’
I shook my head. ‘It’s not your fault. Maybe if I had done things differently, we could have avoided it. I should have told Hugo the real reason why I invited you over. If I had, then this might never have happened. I will always blame myself for this.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Liv said reaching for my hand. ‘Nobody could have predicted the evening turning out like this.’ She looked around. ‘Is… um… Hugo here?’
I nodded. ‘He’s here somewhere but I told him that I needed some space. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Liv.’ I dissolved into tears and she took me into her arms. I let her hold me up, glad somebody could take the load off me, even if it was just for a moment.
‘Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions yet,’ she soothed. ‘Just focus on getting Elliot better; the rest will work itself out. I’m here for you, Maya. You’re not on your own.’
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed.
56
MAYA
Liv and Jay went home shortly afterwards with Liv squeezing me tightly as she was going, making me promise to call her at any time during the night and telling me that she would leave her phone on.
I sat down again beside Elliot, holding his small hand inside my own. I traced my fingers over the pudgy dimples of his knuckles, then through his silky hair. His face was so bruised, I ached to see his beautiful features so battered. I willed him to hold on.
Not long afterwards, I heard heavy footsteps enter the room behind me. I assumed it was Hugo returning but I was taken aback when I turned around to see two members of An Garda Síochána, one male and one female, standing there. They looked so incongruous with the surroundings. I immediately stood up.
‘Are you Mrs Laurence?’ the male asked, taking off his hat.
I nodded meekly.
‘I’m Detective Hartley and this,’ he gestured to his colleague, ‘is Garda Johnson. I’m very sorry to hear about your son’s injuries.’ He paused and I knew there was more coming. ‘Iwas wondering if we could have a word with you about the circumstances of the accident.’
I began to panic. Why were they here? Who told them to come? Had Liv and Jay reported what had happened? But I had just seen them off; surely they would have told me if they had spoken to the Gardaí?
