Georgia leaned on the counter of the nurses station while Rick sat behind the desk, directing a visitor to a patient’s room. The visitor moved off and Rick glanced up at Georgia. ‘Your favourite patient is back again,’ he told her.
‘Jerry? Yeah, I know. He’s making a name for himself.’
‘Pretty sure he’s already made a name for himself. You have too much of a soft spot for that old bloke. We don’t have enough beds to have him here every month.’
‘I know but . . . it’s Jerry. He’s a sweetheart.’
Amber approached from the other direction and joined them at the counter. ‘What are you two slackers doing?’
‘Not slacking off. Just . . . pausing,’ said Georgia.
A shout in the distance stopped their conversation.
‘What was that?’ said Georgia.
‘Coming from maternity,’ said Rick. ‘Just someone in labour.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Amber said, her voice sharp. ‘That’s a different sound. That does not sound like someone giving birth.’
‘How can you tell?’ argued Rick.
But Amber had already moved away from the counter and started striding in the direction of the shout. A second later there was a different shout, clearly a man’s voice, and then a shrill scream and a crash as though something had been knocked over.
‘Shit, she’s right,’ said Georgia.
Rick dashed around from behind the desk and they both hurried after Amber, who’d started running towards the commotion.
When they pushed through the double doors into the maternity ward, it took Georgia a moment to take in what was going on. A tall man dressed in striped pyjamas was facing away from them, and opposite him two nurses and a doctor were spread out across the hall, all of them holding their hands up in a non-threatening manner. A rounds cart lay on its side, its contents scattered across the floor.
‘What —’ Georgia began, trying to figure out why they all looked so afraid of the man. Then he turned and Georgia realised he was holding a large knife. She gasped. It wasn’t as if this kind of thing hadn’t happened here before. Working in a public hospital in Western Sydney meant incidents as if this were par for the course. Last month a teenager in the throes of drug withdrawal had punched a paramedic down in Emergency. Another time, a sixty-year-old woman suffering from hyperactive delirium flip-kicked a nurse with surprising dexterity for a woman her age. But none of these had happened on one of Georgia’s shifts and she was horrified to realise she had no idea what she was supposed to do. That was when she noticed Amber slowly moving towards the man.
‘Mate,’ said Amber, her voice loud and clear, not a hint of a wobble to it. ‘You need to put that knife down.’
It all happened in a flash. The man lurched at Amber, she swung one arm out knocking the knife out of his hand, sidestepped him, and then used his own momentum to tackle him down to the floor. One of the other nurses stepped forward along with Rick to help restrain him, and at the same time, two security guards arrived.
The whole thing was over as fast as it had started, and Georgia was starkly aware of the fact that her only contribution to the entire incident was to stand and stare, while Amber had been a bloody hero. So why was Georgia the one feeling like she could easily have a panic attack right now? She did the only thing she could think to do — turned and fled.
*
Georgia saw the paper well before she reached her car. It was fluttering in the wind, fighting against the constraints of the windscreen wiper. One big gust and it might have been whipped away and she wouldn’t have known it was ever there. Her stomach clenched and her pace quickened. She didn’t need this right now, not after what had happened in the maternity ward. Not after the way she’d run away from the scene like a frightened child. In the end, her panic had subsided as quickly as it had risen up and she’d covered her quick departure by pretending she’d disappeared in order to get more help.
So, this means Cadence knows where I work.
That shouldn’t have surprised her though. Cadence had somehow found her car out the front of her parents’ house, so why wouldn’t she be able to find it in the staff carpark at the hospital? Social media. That was the problem. Everyone could find out everything about you in the space of a few bloody clicks. Thank God her home address wasn’t public knowledge.
A thought occurred to Georgia then. Had she struggled to cope with that situation at work just now because of Cadence? Probably. With everything that had been going on, it was no wonder she was feeling more anxious than usual.
Bloody Cadence.
She reached the car and snatched up the note. For a moment, she considered tearing it to shreds without even reading it. Then Cadence wouldn’t have the satisfaction of having affected her. That would take away her power, wouldn’t it? But curiosity was making the paper burn in her hand and she opened it all in a rush, reading the words with her body braced for impact.
You know you’re not going to be able to keep him, right?
He’s MINE, bitch.
Georgia’s entire body was trembling. How dare she? How dare she treat her this way? She looked around, wondering if Cadence was still here, watching to see how she’d reacted to the note. Now she wished she had ripped it up without reading it. Her shoulders and back ached from the tension. She hopped into the car and phoned Luke.
‘Hey gorgeous,’ he answered.
‘Hi.’
‘What’s wrong?’
Her tone had already given her away.
‘I just found another note on my car from Cadence.’
‘Are you okay? What did it say?’
‘That I won’t be able to keep you. That I’m a bitch.’ There was a wobble to Georgia’s voice that she hated.
‘I’m so sorry. Where are you? I’m coming to see you.’
‘No, it’s okay, I’m leaving the hospital now. I’m all right.’
‘You’re not, I can hear it in your voice. I’ll meet you at your place. We can go out, stay in, whatever you want.’
Georgia felt a wave of relief that he was insisting. The truth was, she did need him, very much. ‘Okay.’ She hung up and took a moment to steady her breathing before starting the car and pulling out.
*
They walked hand in hand to a cafe up on the main road. The first thing Luke had done when he’d arrived at her place was hug her warmly for a good few minutes. When he looked at the note his cheeks flared red. ‘She’s wrong. You know that, right?’
Even though Georgia had been tempted to suggest they head to a pub for a few strong drinks, she’d decided to go with the more sensible option of coffee and a triple-choc brownie, considering it was a Wednesday night and she couldn’t let Cadence turn her into an alcoholic.
They arrived and Georgia picked a comfy couch in the corner while Luke ordered.
‘God, I hope she stops when you move out,’ Georgia said when Luke joined her, placing their table number between them.
‘So, you’re still okay with me moving in with you?’
‘Of course I am! I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.’
‘I know, but I was worried that it might have been a spur of the moment thing. Or that she might start to scare you off. I hate that she’s treating you this way.’ His voice was filled with despair and Georgia looked up at him and saw that his shoulders were slumped. She was furious with Cadence for making such a positive, happy guy look so down-trodden. She was determined to make it stop.
‘Yes, she is scaring me . . . a bit . . . but she’s not scaring me away from you, not in the slightest. Let’s move you in as soon as we get back from Marcus’s wedding.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Can I tell you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘I think . . . no actually, I know, I almost had a panic attack today.’
‘Really? Because of Cadence’s note? God, I’m livid with her.’
‘No, not because of the note, because of this thing that happened at work. A patient lost it; he had a knife and was threatening people with it. Amber took him down.’
‘That sounds awful. I’m so sorry. Anyone would feel like panicking in a situation like that.’
‘Not just panicking, though. I mean almost having a fullblown panic attack. It’s something that used to happen to me a few years back. I went through a really long period of mental health problems — depression, anxiety, that kind of thing.’ Georgia was talking with her head down, her gaze fixed on the table. She didn’t often share her history with guys she was dating. There was still such a stigma around mental health, as if once a person knew you had a propensity to depression, then they had to be careful around you. As though saying the wrong thing might set you off. As though a bad day meant you were having an episode rather than just simply having a bad day. Sometimes she’d even got the feeling that people thought her depression might rub off on them, as though it was contagious and if they were around her too much she’d bring them down.
The last boyfriend she’d shared her story with was Will. She still wondered if that was the reason he’d broken up with her, despite his assurances that the timing, so soon after she’d told him, was nothing but coincidence.
She stopped talking and looked up, prepared to see that look in Luke’s eyes too — the combination of sympathy and apprehension. But instead she saw something else. It was a look of complete and utter understanding. He was nodding his head, and he reached across the table to take hold of her hands. ‘I went through something similar,’ he said.
‘You did?’
‘Remember how I told you about my weight problems and you asked me if it affected my relationship with my parents? Well, you were spot-on. I did resent them for the way they dealt with it. In fact, for a long time, I hated them. I felt . . . somehow lesser. Like they couldn’t accept me for who I was. Like they couldn’t really love me until I lost the weight. Especially because it often felt like it wasn’t really about the health problems for them, but instead it was about looks. I didn’t fit in with the image they wanted to portray to the world. Having a fat son didn’t suit their idea of a nice, middle-class family.’ Luke paused for a moment and Georgia saw his face twist. He was struggling with whether or not to continue. She squeezed his hands and he took a breath and continued. ‘We had a professional family photo done once and I overheard my mum on the phone, asking the company if they could airbrush me so I looked a bit slimmer.’
Georgia felt a rush of goose pimples on her arms and she shivered. How could anyone do that to their own child? When she spoke, she had to steady her voice. ‘That’s horrible, Luke. Really awful.’
‘That was the first time I cut myself.’
Georgia stayed quiet, giving him the space and time to keep talking.
‘I took my dad’s razor into my room and I sliced at the skin on my legs.’ He stared at Georgia. ‘Then I bandaged myself up and kept it hidden under my jeans until it healed — even though it was the middle of summer and I was boiling hot.’ He stopped, looking shocked. ‘I’ve never told anyone that. No one.’
Georgia stared back him. ‘Luke,’ she whispered, ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
He nodded. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m glad I’ve finally been able to tell someone.’
Georgia paused, trying to decide if this was the moment she was going to tell someone her truth as well. She closed her eyes. Saw a bathroom sink. Saw the small white pill bottle. Saw her shaking hands gripping the edge of the basin. Saw her reflection in the mirror. Pale skin. Mascara lines down her cheeks.
She opened her eyes and looked at Luke. ‘I tried to commit suicide . . . twice.’