“You can ask me about it tomorrow.”
“I’ll be asking you about a lot of things. Don’t bail on me, Carter.”
Quietness this time, different from silence, more liminal.
“It’s me who’s been waiting to speak to you, remember.” He spoke softly, calmness in every word, although not below the surface.
Below was the depth of the oceans, dark and swirling, and I couldn’t see the bottom.
CHAPTER 13
Rose
For once, the ward wasn’t busy. I needed a day where I didn’t have time to think, one where I could completely lose myself in work, which wasn’t usually an issue. My job meant that I only saw patients when they were in crisis or verging of going into crisis, so life was usually fast paced.
But on the one day I needed a day I could drown in; we had a streak of calm. No emergencies were admitted, patients all had a good day, we had a breakthrough and two discharges – although there was every chance at least one would be back with us within a month. The day almost dragged. I had time for paperwork I’d been putting off, and my supervision went ahead with no disruptions.
Which gave me a few minutes here and there to think.
It was much easier to spend my time helping other people solve their problems than work on my own, unless I was motivated to. Motivation meant I would end up in a safe space where I was absolutely certain everything would be okay. I knew that everything would be okay with Carter; our friendship had longevity, neither of us would revert to our childhood and throw our toys completely out of the pram.
But I knew I risked being hurt all the same, and while the last couple of weeks had been a special kind of torture, at least I’d still had hope that there might be something for me with Carter. After tonight, that hope might not be there anymore.
I didn’t know what to expect and that was what was disconcerting me the most.
I got home the earliest I had done for months and jumped straight into the shower, needing to wash the eau d’hospital off every fibre of my being. I pushed thoughts of Carter out of head successfully, for the first time since I’d spoken to him the night before, and accepted finally that what would be, would be and all of those epithets.
I studied my reflection in the mirror as I blow dried my hair, trying to tame the dark red curls that I’d always rather liked. They were the same as my mum’s, the one feature I’d really inherited, although hers were streaked with grey now, something she blamed on me and my siblings. And Seph.
I smiled, thinking of my stepdad and his latest issue with a photocopier. I was sure that most of his photocopier issues were purely for our entertainment and to wind up my Uncle Max. It never failed.
My parents liked Carter. He’d spent enough time at our house to have my dad’s phone number and to have bailed at least one of my brothers out of a party they shouldn’t have been at. He’d never told on them either, or divulged to me what they’d been up to, and I’d liked that. He made connections easily and was skilled at deepening them. Unlike some surgeons he had people skills.
And I was back on Carter.
It’d been nice while it lasted.
I made a quick dinner, and then added some make-up, just mascara and bronzer to try to stop me looking like a Victorianlady with a malaise. The intercom buzzed bang on eight, and my heart rate went from jumpy to participating in a nineties’ rave.
Carter was at my door a minute late, casual, free from any hospital paraphernalia, a battered leather jacket fitting too well across his shoulders, but it was his eyes I noticed first. He was wary.
Nerves attacked me again.
“How’s things?” I closed the door and followed him through to the kitchen. The kitchen was open plan, with one half the space an open living area with a corner sofa, coffee table and a wall-mounted TV. I’d slept there on many occasions and there was a heap of blankets that I hadn’t tidied.
I’d considered tidying up for Carter’s visit, but that would’ve been making a meal of things – he was used to my mess.
“Okay. Yours?”
“Quiet, for the first time ever. Want a beer?” I really wanted to get started on this conversation but social niceties had been ingrained in me.
“Please. I’m not in work until Saturday now so beer’s the right answer.”
“What was the question?”
“It could’ve been anything and beer would’ve been the right answer.” He followed me to the fridge and accepted the bottle I pulled out, then found the bottle opener himself. “What are you having?”
“I think I’ll have a beer too.” Tea didn’t seem appropriate right now.
