“Okay, but why?”
She blinks and stares into the distance for a moment. “I actually don’t know. It’s just…that’s what they always do in books and films. I think it’s a comfort thing.”
We ponder this for a moment.
“When I had endometriosis surgery, the food was horrid,” she continues. “The peas were mashed into a single ball. Like one giant soft pea. It makes me want to chuck up just thinking about it. Anyway, this soup is from Baba’s, so it’ll be delicious.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a paper napkin, unwrapping it to reveal a silver spoon. My bottom lip begins to wobble at her kindness and I feel immediately guilty for my shortness with her. I hadn’t really thought about the hospital food being gross because I’ve mostly not been hungry. But now that the soup is in front of me, my stomach growls.
“I didn’t know you had endometriosis. That’s rubbish.”
“You never asked.”
“I’m sorry for that,” I say with a wince. “All these years I thought I was protecting myself by keeping my distance from people. But I’m starting to think that maybe I was—”
“A massive fucking bitch?”
I laugh out loud, immediately yelping as it pulls my ribs into a direction they’re not ready for.
“Yeah.” I grin. “A massive fucking bitch. Why did you even want to be friends with me?”
“Because it would be a terrible reflection on my personality if my only workmate was my own mum.”
I laugh.
Leanne shrugs. “Seriously, though. I like you. And that night we drank wine after work? You told me about your mum leaving.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. And you were so funny too, when you didn’t have that guard all the way up. I knew I’d break through eventually.I mean, I thought it might take another year or two, but here we are. Sharing soup.”
“Sharing?”
“Yeah, I was actually hoping you’d dish it up now.” Leanne pulls out another napkin and spoon from her handbag. “I’ve not had any lunch yet because Mum brought in a tuna sarnie, which absolutely no thank you.”
“You don’t like tuna?”
“God, you really haven’t been listening to me for all these years, eh? I once had someone come into the pharmacy with persistent bacterial vaginosis. Haven’t been able to stomach the scent of fish since. Mum loves tuna though, so whenever she has it, I bail.”
I laugh again, clutching my ribs. “You need to stop making me laugh.”
“I can’t promise anything,” Leanne says, lifting her chin, a proud smile on her face. “But I’ll try to hold off until we finally go for our drink.”
“What drink?”
“The one you agreed to join me and Mum for in return for giving you late-notice time off.”
Ah yes. That. God. It seems so long ago now.
It’s odd. When I’d agreed to that, I’d immediately started to think of ways I could renege. But now, in the midst of everything being terrible, I can see how it might just be a salve.
47
My procession of visitors continues a couple of hours later with Jan. When she shows up, I’m crying again, because that’s now all I am able to do.
Mostly I’m crying for Cooper. Because as each day goes by that he doesn’t wake up, the more likely it seems that he won’t wake up at all. And when Amy told me that Cooper was in love with me, I didn’t really stop to think about how I felt about him.
Yes, I knew I fancied him. I knew he made me laugh in a way that felt like freedom. I knew that behind the surliness was a tender and generous heart. I knew that he had shown me how to use my body as an instrument for joy instead of fear. But I assumed that was just lust. Now I’m facing the prospect of not getting to see what comes after lust.
