There’s a fumble at my door, a clanging. Then Elaine walks in, wheeling a small machine in front of her; leading it towards me. She purses her lips at me again, but I don’t mind this constant sympathy gesture coming from her. She’s nice looking. Not good looking. There’s a distinct difference. And I’d take nice looking over good looking all day long.
She notices I’m on the phone, mouths the words ‘heart rate’. I stretch the phone away from my mouth.
‘Sure, Elaine,’ I say. ‘That is no problem. Whatever it is you need to do, my love.’ Then I bring the phone to my mouth again. ‘Lenny. I’ll have to ring you back. A nurse is here to run some tests.’
Elaine opens the Velcro strapping on a small rubber tube and then releases two blue suction tabs. She motions towards my T-shirt and without hesitating, I lift it over my head. Then she places the two tabs on my chest and turns to twizzle at some nozzles on her machine.
‘Sorry to disturb your call. Won’t keep you long,’ she says. ‘We just need to keep checking your rate.’
I’m about to tell her the call wasn’t that important when Elaine makes a strange sound; almost as if she’s sucking her own tongue.
‘Heart rate’s gone up significantly, Gordon,’ she says staring at me.
‘I’m not surprised. After the news I was told an hour ago.’
‘Have you been resting as we suggested?’ she asks, while walking to the end of my bed to pick up the clipboard. She scribbles some notes on it while I try to find the words to phrase my lie.
‘Yes. Just as you said. Haven’t really done anything… Was just ringing a friend of mine there to—’
‘That the same friend who was in with you half-an-hour ago?’ she asks, staring at me over the clipboard.
‘Yeah – an old friend. My best friend. The only person I could think of to call on to be honest.’
Elaine purses her lips again. She hangs the clipboard back on to the rail at the foot of my bed and then walks around to sit her pert bum on the edge of my mattress.
‘Gordon… Mr Douglas spoke to you about the need for relaxation today. I can’t stress how important that is.’
I roll my eyes. She catches me. It wasn’t difficult – my eyes are about two feet from hers.
‘I can’t fully understand how difficult it is to digest the news you’ve been given, Gordon,’ she says, ‘but your best chance of surviving these procedures is to keep your heart rate steady.’
Douglas had already mentioned this to me; he told me my ability to keep my mind-set consistent over the next few hours would be just as important to my success as his steady hands during the procedures. The medical team are mostly afraid of blood clots; there’s a high risk that multiple clots will form during my operations that can swiftly make their way to my lungs, to my brain. If that is the case; I’ll never wake up. That’s why Douglas – and now Elaine – are keen for me to relax – they want my heart rate to remain consistent. The more relaxed I am, the less chance there’ll be of blood clots forming. But blood clots aren’t their only concern. My heart’s a ticking time bomb. I could have a massive heart attack while I’m cut open, could even have it before then, which is why they’re trying to get me to the theatre as quickly as they possibly can. Two more of Douglas’ surgical team are flying in from London as I lie here and the theatre will be prepped after the surgery that is going on in it right now is complete. It’s why they’ve been very specific about my surgery time; three p.m. I pick up my phone just to make the screen light go on so I can check the time. 11:11. Jesus fuckin Christ. Less than four hours. While the phone is in my hand I imagine what Lenny is up to right now. He’s probably knocking on Alan Keating’s door. What the fuck is he going to ask Keating? How can he get any more information out of him that the police didn’t get in their investigations? I know it’s an impossible ask. But I can’t lie here, with death’s door opening up to me, and not do all I can to find Betsy.
My head is melting. I’m torn between relaxing ahead of these surgeries and doing all I can for my daughter. Fuck! I allow a massive sigh to rasp itself up from the pit of my lungs and all the way through my open mouth.
Elaine reaches her hand and places it on top of mine. Then she smiles at me; not a purse of the lips this time, an upturn of the lips.
‘It’s why I keep asking you if there’s anybody who can come up to visit you, Gordon. Company will help you relax. Are you sure you don’t want me to ring your ex wife for you?’
‘I thought you want me to relax,’ I say, offering her a smile of my own.
‘No other friends I can call?’
I shake my head.
‘What about the friend who you’ve been on the phone to and who was up earlier… can he come back to you? Keep you company?’
I blow from my lips, making a bit of a motorboat sound, and then shake my head.
‘He’s out doing a job for me; don’t worry, it’s all being taken care of.’
Elaine looks at me the way a teacher looks at a cheeky student; her face stern, trying to hide the hint of a smile that’s threatening to force its way through.
‘Surely you have other friends who can be here for you. Who was best man at your wedding?’
‘Guus Meyer,’ I say.
‘Well let’s call Guus. I’m sure he would—’
‘We haven’t spoken in years,’ I tell her. ‘We blurred the lines of business and friendship. It’s true what they say; don’t mix business with pleasure.’
‘I’m sure given the circumstances…’ Elaine says, but I shrug my shoulders at her, allow another tear to drop from my eye. My head is spinning. I don’t know how to feel; how I’m supposed to react to the news I’ve been given this morning. And I’m torn; I don’t know who my main concern should be right now; me or Betsy. Maybe she’s been my concern for way too long. Probably why my heart’s fucked.
Elaine stands up, fixes my sheet so it’s nice and snug under both of my arms. I stare into her face as she’s doing it. I like her freckles. She’s not unlike Michelle. They don’t necessarily look alike, but there’s a similar energy they both give off. I mean the Michelle I knew when we first met, not the bitchy Michelle who exists now. As I’m staring at Elaine I figure she must be the same age Michelle was when I first met her.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-six.’
Yep. That’s the age Michelle was when I sat beside her on a bus one day coming home from town. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with her before we both got off that bus half-an-hour later. I never thought, not for one millisecond back then, that I would ever hate her. But I do. She fucked me over. I feel another tear drop from my eye. Elaine notices, reaches for the tissues on my bedside cabinet.
‘Thank you.’
I breathe in heavily, try to soak the surreality of the morning up my nose and deep into my lungs. Who do I love more? Me or Betsy? It has to be Betsy. Of course it’s Betsy. It’s always been Betsy. Fuck relaxing. Fuck my heart rate. I reach for my phone; tap into my call history and hover my finger over Lenny’s number. I need to know where he is; what he’s doing.
‘Y’know… if you don’t have anyone to come up to see you, how about I sit here with you for a while? We can watch some TV together… just relax?’
I haven’t had anybody offer anything quite like that to me in years. Company.
‘That’d be lovely,’ I say, placing the phone back down onto my lap.
I can’t make up my fucking mind.