She stepped into Simon’s room, the morning sky screaming the joys of spring behind as he sat in bed, hair combed and face scrubbed, a partially eaten plate of vegemite toast at his side, his eyes brimming with tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said, placing the fresh underwear and his Pierre Cardin aftershave in the drawer beside his bed.
‘These headaches just won’t go away. The drugs aren’t working anymore and according to all the tests, there’s nothing wrong. It’s fucking depressing,’ he said, his face suddenly turning to stone. ‘And you’re not helping any by acting as though you’re doing me a favour by rocking up whenever you can find ten minutes to spare in your busy fucking life.’
Whatever, Laura thought as she turned to a sharp rap on the door before Bryce Cowlett entered with Patrice in his wake.
‘How are you today?’ he said to Simon after acknowledging Laura with a nod. ‘He’s depressed about the pain,’ Laura said.
‘I think I can speak for myself thanks, Laura,’ Simon said through tight lips.
Dr Cowlett studied Simon over the top of his glasses. ‘The nurses tell me you seem to be having mood swings. It’s common for emotional disorders to accompany a brain injury,’ he said, pulling a penlight from the top pocket of his coat, and then lifting Simon’s eyelids and flicking the light across. ‘We’ll get a psychiatrist to see you. Then we’ll talk about options,’ he said dropping the penlight back into his pocket.
‘What are the options?’ Laura said.
‘Medication, counselling, behaviour management . . . Don’t worry, Laura,’ he said, his smile warm. ‘We will do our very best to get Simon back to his old self again, but it may take some time.’
His words shocked Laura into silence. She studied Simon’s accusatory frown, a cold chill claiming her body. Her natural inclination was to nod and smile politely in the face of Dr Cowlett’s assumptions. But instead she lifted her chin, ‘Doctor, it would be useful if we could discuss Simon’s rehabilitation in the light of he and I now being separated,’ she said, ignoring the three astonished faces suddenly turned to her.
Dr Cowlett pulled a pen from his top pocket and scrawled across the open file. ‘Of course. Thank you for mentioning it. I shall certainly bear that in mind,’ he said, his eyes locking onto hers with the message he understood how difficult those words had been for her to utter – how new they were.
But as doctor and nurse left the room and Patrice turned back briefly, Laura could not fathom her expression.
As she drove to the office Laura pondered Simon’s new additional health challenges and thought in hindsight how grateful she was that Flynn had not stopped her from leaving his house last night with Penne Primavera in hand and her hormones writhing and screaming. If she hadn’t walked away then, her guilt now would be beyond tolerance.
‘Come on, I’ll buy you lunch,’ Noah said later as he approached Laura at her computer.
‘OK,’ she murmured without lifting her head, anxious to finish the report that had been bothering her for days.
‘Laura, take a break.’ Noah laughed. ‘I’ll buy you a pub lunch. We’ll be back in half an hour.’
‘Uh?’ She looked up, now fully aware of his presence. ‘No thanks, Noah. I have to get this bloody report done and dusted. Another time,’ she said, turning back to her screen.
‘Please?’ He made a needy face. ‘I’d really like your opinion about something.’
Noah asking her opinion about anything was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘OK, but I only have half an hour,’ she said, shrugging into her jacket.
‘That’s all I need,’ he said.
They stepped into the familiar dark timbered space to be assailed by aromas of beer and deep-frying. Ordered at the bar and weaved their way through several tables to a vacant booth.
‘So how can I help?’ She leaned back in her seat, studying his expression. ‘You don’t want my advice at all, do you?’ she said, smiling.
Noah shook his head. ‘I just said that to get you alone.’ He hesitated, until the waiter had placed their meals on the table and left. ‘Mia told me she thought Bev the hairdresser was fishing for information about you and Flynn a couple of days ago,’ he continued. ‘According to Bev, our neighbours have seen you two walking along the beach together quite a few times.’ He picked up his burger and took a large bite.
‘It’s none of their bloody business,’ she hissed, toying with her salad, her outrage building.
‘That’s right. They don’t know shit,’ he said.
‘Flynn is my friend. We enjoy each other’s company. What’s wrong with that?’ She glared at Noah.
He shrugged and swallowed another bite of burger. ‘Nothing.’
‘That’s right. Nothing. And nothing has happened.’ She leaned forward, her voice an angry whisper. ‘It may inject a thrill into their tired dreary lives to know that if we were both single it may have happened by now. Yes, probably right there on the beach in front of their beady eyes peering through their smeary binoculars and telescopes. But I’m married, so nothing has happened.’ She speared a slice of chicken with her fork and shoved it into her mouth, chewing and peering at other tables, relieved to see that others in the room, some of them their colleagues, did not seem to be aware of her outburst.
‘Pity,’ Noah said, peering at her over the rim of his glass of water.
‘Pity what?’ Laura snapped.
‘It is a pity you are married,’ Noah said. ‘That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’
Laura felt tears sting behind her eyes. Tried to swallow the mouthful lodged in her throat. ‘Not at all,’ she finally managed to rasp.
Noah dropped his voice to almost a whisper. ‘Oh. So you don’t mind that your husband has been screwing his way across the state with willing strangers. And you don’t mind that he has a lifetime of care needs and that you seem to be the most logical person – indeed the only person – who is available to meet them.’
‘That’s not true,’ Laura said. ‘No one seems to know his prognosis yet. He may not have any care needs longer term. It’s entirely possible he’ll be fine after rehab therapy.’ She stared down at the table, Dr Cowlett’s sympathetic gaze revisiting her from this morning. ‘But his brain injury is causing mood swings, and they don’t know whether they’re transitory or permanent.’ She slowly pushed her salad away. ‘I told his doctor this morning that I would not be able to provide full-time care for Simon because we’re separated.’ She peered down at the space where her wedding ring used to be. ‘I was so relieved when he didn’t appear to have an opinion about that.’
‘How could he?’ Noah said, frowning.
‘Everyone would be entitled to think I am lower than freezing point for abandoning my husband when he needs me now more than ever.’
‘I can only think of one thing lower,’ Noah said leaning back in his chair and lifting his eyebrows. ‘And Simon has done that more than once.’
Laura’s gaze met his. ‘Well, I can hardly pass judgement now, because I am seriously attracted to Flynn. I would . . . well, you know, in an instant, the only difference between Simon and me being that I take our marriage vows seriously. And reading between the lines, I think Flynn is respectful of that as well.’
‘Hang on,’ Noah said, lifting a finger. ‘So it’s OK for the guy in a marriage to screw around, but the woman has to stay loyal and faithful. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Noah, I care how people see me. What they think of me.’
He leaned forward. ‘Laura, they’re saying things already, and you are doing nothing, nothing is happening. If you live your life by how other people see you, what they say about you, you’ll have no life at all.’ He leaned back in his seat again, studied her face. ‘And regardless of what they’re saying, you still look exactly the same to me – I see no scarlet “A” painted on your forehead, no horns or talons. Go figure,’ he said, lifting both hands, smirking.