Taylor
Taylor shouldn’t have stayed,and he cursed himself for being so soft, because by the time they’d finished processing prisoners, visiting hours at the hospital had ended.
He’d tried to guess the code to get through the staff doors at least twenty times, but now the keypad was flashing red and he should probably just leave it alone. In the end, all he could do was stare through the glass door like a lost puppy.
“Come back tomorrow,” said the harassed looking matron as she ushered him away.
“What about grapes?” Taylor said, shaking a plastic bag at her. “I really think he needs some more. If I could just go in and?—”
The matron sighed and took the bag from him. “I’ll take the grapes to him and that’sonlybecause you’re a police officer. He’ll probably be out tomorrow once we’re happy there isn’t something more complex going on with his arm.” She began walking towards the exit, but Taylor shuffled around her like an annoying child.
“But how will I know? He broke his phone and—what about if I bring a new one? Will you let me in then?”
The matron shook her head. “No, and anyway, it’s nine o’clock in the evening, where are you going to get a new phone at this hour?”
Taylor scoffed. “I know people.Or, what if I take him home and just bring him back tomorrow?”
They reached the glass double doors that led to the public car park, and the matron held one open for him. She let out a strained laugh, one that sounded like her patience was wearing thin. Tayloralmostleant into that, like if he pushed her just enough she might?—
“And risk A&E waiting times?” she continued. “You’re down as his next of kin, so I’ll give you a call as soon as he’s ready to be discharged, alright?”
Taylor opened his mouth, but the matron had already turned and started marching back towards the ward. Sighing, he tapped his chin. He was Johnny’s next of kin. Kin… and ‘next of’ at that. He pressed his lips together, trying to stop a smile because one really should not smile in a hospital where people were probably dying.
Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he stared up at the sky. It was purply orange shot through with wispy clouds, not unlikeSacramento Sunrise, and maybe if he told the matron Johnny needed a touch-up she would?—
He let out a frustrated groan.
He wasn’t getting in, he knew that deep down, so instead of pacing himself into a pit he called Maman and gave her the abridged version of the day’s events. He artfully avoided an invite to stay at the pack house, because the second she saw him she’d know it was more serious than he’d made out.
It wasn’t until he turned the key in his own front door and stepped into the dark, empty living room that he held his head in his hands and wept like a big fucking baby.
“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth.
A breeze rolled in through the open kitchen window, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin. He blinked over and over, trying to clear the tears, but they just kept coming.
Sloping into the kitchen, he threw the car keys onto the table and wrenched open the fridge. Pulling out a can of Coke, he cracked it open, downing the entire thing in one go. Then another. He was about to pull out a third when there was a knock at the door.
“Fuck off,” he whispered.
There was a second knock, then a third, so, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand, he got up. There was a moment where he fumbled with the key, his fingers like five numb meat sticks, before wrenching open the door. He was met with Pember’s flushed face, bent over whilst he rubbed the back of his calf.
“Sorry,” he said, pushing a hand through his dark hair. “I… er… might have just jumped the wall and I’m now regretting it. I thought I was as athletic as Blake, but turns out I’m not.”
Bailey the black Labrador and George the corgi appeared at Pember’s feet moments later. Taylor huffed out a breath, his gaze trailing to the three-foot wall between their houses.
Then his shoulders came up and he started laughing.
And laughing.
Not a joyous sort of laugh, but one that sat somewhere between delirium and desperation. He coughed wetly and suddenly the tears were back.
Pember’s mouth dropped open as he stepped towards him. “What’s wrong?” he said, reaching up to grip Taylor’s wrist.
Taylor turned away. “Nothing,” he said, mouth twisting as he bit his bottom lip. “Nothing, I just… Fucking hell.”
“Right,” Pember said, turning him around and pushing him back inside the house. He flicked the light on, but even that felt like too much so Taylor turned it off again. The dogs followed, their claws tapping across the hardwood floor.
Taylor slumped into the kitchen chair, angling his body away from Pember so he couldn’t see just how much he was crying.
