HOSPITALS the world over smelled the same—a unique blend of disinfected floors, starched linen and ailing humanity. It had never bothered me. In fact, I found it comforting. But as I rested my head on the bed beside my father’s still form, I knew I’d never be able to disassociate the smell from this moment, forever more connecting the odour with the demise of the once invincible man my father had been.
The gentle grip I had on his warm fingers wasn’t enough to convey the depth of my emotions to him through the fog of his coma. The beeps from his monitors and the whoosh of oxygen being delivered to him failed to drown out the anguish in my head.
By the time I’d arrived from LA, he’d slipped into unconsciousness. He’d suffered a cardiac arrest and, although resuscitated, he hadn’t come around. The ICU doctors suspected he’d also suffered a stroke in the wake of the heart attack and now, only time would tell if he could pull through. The chances were slim and I began to prepare my mother for the worst. If only preparing myself was as easy.
Mum and I had kept a constant bedside vigil since I’d arrived from LA thirty-six hours ago. I hadn’t been home and hadn’t changed clothes, still wearing Nathan’s T-shirt under my jacket.
With reluctance, I’d persuaded Mum to head home for a shower and a few hours sleep during the night. She was due back any minute and she was bringing Matty, who’d yet to see our father in this condition. He’d likely be upset—the hospital environment alone enough to send him into a spiral of sensory overload with its beeping monitors, echoing floors and constant hum of fluorescent lighting. But he needed to be part of this, to have the chance to say goodbye, and I couldn’t protect him from it.
I needn’t have worried. As always, Matty surprised us with his ability to adapt, and Mum had prepared him well for what he would see when he stepped onto the ward that housed our father’s lifeless form.
My eyes, which had remained unnervingly dry and scratchy since receiving the phone call from my mother, filled as I watched Matty assimilate the myriad of information, gleaning the basic concepts of what our father had suffered with one or two concise questions.
When he began to move restlessly around the curtained bay, I accepted my mother’s car keys and led Matty from the ward.
The forty-minute car journey home was punctuated by further clarification, where Matty asked the same questions he’d asked at the hospital and I answered them in the same way, a process that calmed him but had the opposite effect on me, as if each time I answered the words became more real.
When we pulled up outside his flat, grief and fatigue duelling to suck me into a void of numbness, Matty turned and said, ‘Dad is sick. His heart is sick.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ My throat closed as he reached out a clumsy hand and patted my shoulder. ‘Don’t be sad.’
And then he was gone.
I couldn’t remember a time my little brother had consoled me. Unlike many people who believed autistic people didn’t feel the way the rest of us did, I believed the opposite—that they felt too much, their emotions so big they overwhelmed them. I’d always been the strong one, locking away my own feelings in an attempt to protect Matty. And again, he’d surprised me by seeing right through my thinly veiled attempts at stoicism.
As I made my way to my parents’ home, only minutes from Matty’s, the tears flowed freely, soaking the neck of Nathan’s shirt. I stumbled into my childhood home, and headed straight for the bathroom where I ran a bath.
While the bath filled, I dropped my bag onto my old bed and rummaged in my handbag for my cell phone. I hadn’t thought to check it since arriving at the hospital, focused only on my father, as if by sheer will alone I could help his body heal from the ravages of cardiovascular disease.
My cell phone was dead. I located the charger at the bottom of my bag, relieved I’d had the foresight to throw it in when I’d rushed to collect the essentials back in LA. When I plugged in the phone, the incoming alerts went berserk and I returned to the bathroom, switching off the water so I could spend time going through the texts and missed calls.
Nathan had texted twenty-eight times. I’d missed eleven calls from him and three from Jake. With a sigh, the last of my energy seeped away. I noted the time and attempted a quick conversion to LA local time. It was the middle of the night—he’d be asleep. I pushed away any guilt I might feel at ignoring his messages and opened the most recent text, which was from Jess.
What’s going on? Call me ASAP
Shame prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. I hadn’t contacted Jess for days. She’d be worried about me. I guessed she’d somehow heard about my dad. Dialling her number, I prepared myself to leave a voicemail, but she’d clearly finished her shift because she answered on the first ring.
‘Soph? Where are you? Are you okay?’
‘Jess, I’m sorry. I meant to call earlier, but … it’s been horrible. I’m sorry.’
‘Is it true?’
‘Yes. I flew home the day before yesterday. It’s not looking good, Jess.’ My voice broke on the last word and I covered my mouth to hold in the anguish that threatened to drag me under.
‘Shall I come ’round? I can’t believe he’d treat you like this—what a tosser!’
My fatigued brain was fuzzy, Jess’s words making no sense. My father couldn’t help being ill. He didn’t do this to spite me.
But before I could ask her to clarify her outrageous statement she continued, ‘So did he end things with you in LA? Please tell me he told you in person and didn’t just let you discover the headlines for yourself?’
I shifted from bemused and indignant to outright irate. ‘Jess, what are you talking about?’
‘Nathan. I thought he was one of the good guys. I’m sorry, Soph—I encouraged you to go for it …’
I was numb and desperate for sleep. I longed for a hot bath and some clean clothes and my friend was talking in riddles. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came back from LA because Dad’s in hospital—he’s had another heart attack and is in ICU.’
She gasped. ‘Oh Soph! I didn’t know—I’m so sorry. I’ll come ’round to yours straight away.’
‘No. I’m at Mum and Dad’s—I came home for a change of clothes and a couple of hours sleep before I go back.’ Making sense of my head was like trying to wade through treacle. ‘What did you mean about Nathan?’
Her voice was small, hesitant. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. Don’t worry about that now—you rest and I’ll meet you at the hospital. Which one is your dad in?’
‘Jess, I’ve spent the last three days either flying or sitting at my father’s bedside. I haven’t washed, eaten or slept. Tell me what you meant.’ I was close to collapse, my skin tingling and my face numb with fatigue. I had neither time nor patience for guessing games and Jess didn’t usually play them.
‘I thought you knew.’ Her reluctance to elucidate was evident from her whispered words.
‘Knew what? I don’t need this right now. Just tell me!’
‘Nathan’s gone public with Claudia—they are all over each other on the internet. I’m sorry.’ I could hear the tears choking her as a strange sense of relief washed over me.
‘No. He’s on his way here—he couldn’t get on the same flight as me so he’s following as soon as he can.’ I needed to read his texts. Perhaps he’d already landed.
‘Oh, good, okay.’ She didn’t sound convinced, her tone sending an icy trickle down my spine.
‘What exactly have you seen?’ I cursed myself for allowing my phone to die, but I’d been preoccupied, and celebrity gossip was hardly a priority for me right now.
‘Look, this can wait. Let’s focus on your dad.’
My rational brain knew she was right, but I’d passed rational hours ago and was now entering the perilous flying-on-instinct territory. Without waiting for Jess, I pulled my laptop from my bag and flipped it open, determined to glut myself on punishment.
It had fared better than my cell phone, having enough remaining charge for me to fire up an internet search of Nathan’s name. Within seconds I was on an entertainment site, my tired eyes scanning the images of Nathan and Claudia looking very convincing as a couple. Their demeanour screamed ‘intimate’—they were either acting a very convincing show, or I’d been dumped online.
‘Soph? Soph, are you still there?’ My cell phone was still pressed to my face as dread numbed me further.
‘Jess, can I call you back later?’
‘Soph, he’s not quoted directly, it just says that “sources close to the couple confirm the co-stars are dating” thing. You’re probably right—I’m sure he’s on his way. I’m going to swap shifts and meet you at the hospital, okay?’
‘Sure. See you in a few hours.’ I tossed my cell phone onto the bed, too focused on the article in front of me to extend my friend the good manners she deserved.
British heartthrob and rom-com darling, Nathan Banks, was seen out and about in LA today with his co-star and latest flame, Claudia Garrett. The Daddy Date stars were spotted at LA’s trendy eatery Table 10, enjoying lunch in the sunshine before leaving together. Nathan had been seen in recent weeks spending time with British doctor, Sophia King, but when questioned about their relationship, claimed they were ‘just friends’. As previously reported, Ms King spoke out recently stating Banks was a ‘commitment-phobic womaniser’ who’d used her to present a ‘fake relationship’ to the world as a ruse to distract the media.
Banks’s people have declined to comment on his past relationship with Ms King, whose father was involved in a UK political scandal in the 1980s, or his current relationship with Ms Garrett. But if these photos are anything to go by, he seems to have overcome any fear of commitment he might have had.
The main image was a slightly grainy shot of Nathan and Claudia locked in a passionate embrace. His back was to the camera and her hands were tangled in his hair as they kissed. There was a smaller picture of the two of them wearing similar clothes and sitting side by side, smiling at each other in some intimate-looking corner. A third photo was inserted into the main photo—Nathan and I on the red carpet. Nathan’s Hollywood smile gave him an untouchable air and the angle of the shot placed me behind him, my eyes slanted in his direction and my face a bewildered mask.
The constriction of my throat threatened to choke me and I blinked gritty eyes to dispel the image of Nathan and Claudia together. The betrayal burned like acid, but it was the crushing humiliation that slumped my shoulders and forced me to my knees at the side of my childhood bed.
My father lay dying in a hospital bed and this time it was my actions dragging his name through the mud. The words ‘just friends’ played on a constant loop through my head, each replay torturing me with a painful clench in my chest.
I’d messed up, leaking Nathan’s personal information to a blogger, making his choice easy for him. He’d chosen, cutting me free in the most public way possible and I couldn’t even blame him. I’d never belonged in his world. I was a liability. Pretending for a while had been fun, but now I was fully immersed in my own reality and it didn’t include Nathan.
***
The ward round was in progress and Mum and I had stepped into the relatives’ room so the doctors could examine my father and discuss his progress. I was still numb, refusal to think about anything other than my father’s recovery isolating me from reality and the painful reminders of Nathan’s betrayal.
During the quiet early hours of this morning, I’d finally opened his texts, biting the back of my hand to prevent me from uttering a sound as my parents slept, my dad in a deep coma in his hospital bed and my mum slumped in an armchair at his bedside.
The first two gave me hope.
I’m sorry you had to travel alone. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Thinking of you and your family.
You should have landed by now. Text or call me when you can.
The next dozen were repetitive and increasingly frantic in tone.
Call me.
Are you okay? I need to speak to you.
Please answer.
Soph, I can explain.
The most recent tore at the last shreds of my heart.
Are you still at the hospital? They won’t tell me anything.
I didn’t want it to be like this.
I wanted to explain in person, but you won’t answer the phone.
I still want to be there for you.
The grief broke me, cracking open my chest so my insides were raw and exposed. I’d lost the man I loved and as the hours passed, I was being forced to witness the loss of my father. Fragile and insubstantial, I barely had enough strength to deal with one of these losses and I’d closed my phone, unable to withstand the crushing pain.
My mother’s voice broke the helpless silence in the bland room, whose walls had housed endless grief-stricken relatives waiting for news. ‘It’s more than Dad, isn’t it?’
My head jerked up, my gaze yanked from the damage my thumbnail had inflicted on a polystyrene cup from the vending machine. ‘What?’ Her words made no sense and I scrambled to decipher the events of the day in case I’d missed something.
‘You. I’ve never seen you so broken. It’s not just Dad that’s upset you, is it? Is it that boy?’
Only my mum could describe the exquisite specimen of manhood that was Nathan Banks as a boy. The incongruity jarred so violently, I almost smiled.
‘Mum. I’m just worried about Dad.’ I didn’t want to do this now, when I was clinging to the cliff edge of sanity by my ragged fingernails. Couldn’t she see I had little left to give?
‘I blame myself.’ Her voice dropped as her throat thickened on a half sob.
‘For Dad’s heart attack?’
‘No. For before, when you and Matty were younger—I let you both down and I’m sorry.’ Her eyes glittered with unshed tears and something else. Determination.
‘Mum, let’s not go there. Let’s just get through this, okay?’
Her unfocused stare settled on a torn poster on the wall, which preached the perils of smoking. ‘You were always fixing things. Even as a little girl you’d bandage dolls and teddies with toilet paper or fetch a spoon from the drawer to give them medicine. You’ve always been trustworthy and responsible, but I let you down and I’m sorry.’
‘Mum—’
‘No, Soph. I went to pieces after your father’s affair and I’m deeply ashamed. At a time when you and Matty needed me most, I wasn’t there for you. I’m not making that mistake again.’
‘Matty and I were fine. I looked out for him—’
‘I know—your brother was largely oblivious to the whispers, thank goodness. But you—I failed you, put too much burden on you, and it’s shaped the way you live, who you are. I know I can never get those years back for you, darling, but I don’t want you to waste any more of your life.’ Her eyes shone with unshed tears and her mouth trembled, but she clamped her lips together, her stare fixed on me.
‘Mum, you’re my family. Families take care of each other.’
‘I know, and you’ve done a wonderful job. But Matty is my responsibility, mine and Dad’s, and I don’t want you to hold back for him, me or Dad. We want you to be happy—you deserve to be happy too. Your dad and I, we made our choices and we have to live with them. You don’t need to fix us, sweetheart.’
My throat worked on a series of swallows as I battled to hold back the dam of tears threatening to spill.
‘I thought when you travelled to New Zealand with Jess that you’d finally have some wild times, be young, carefree, but now I can see the damage we did with you.’
I flew to her, accepting the solace of her hug as I’d done so many times as a child. I was rendered speechless, my throat closing until I feared I’d suffocate.
Her hand rubbed my back in comforting strokes. ‘I want you to know Dad and I have set up a trust for Matty and arranged legal guardianship, so you never have to worry about him—he’ll always be taken care of.’
‘He’s my brother. I want to take care of him.’
‘Yes, of course, and you can be added to the guardianship agreement if you want. But you mustn’t sacrifice your own life, your own happiness. Live your life, Soph; enjoy every moment, because from where I’m standing, the years slip by so quickly and you never know when that happiness will be snatched away from you.’ She stopped, sucking in a deep breath, no doubt thinking of her life partner in a coma across the hall.
‘I love him, Mum.’ The words slipped from my lips and the relief of speaking them was so immense, my knees almost buckled.
Her hand stroked my hair. ‘I know you do.’ She held me for a long time, both of us lost to our own thoughts until the door swung open and the cardiologist in charge of my father’s care entered the room.
We broke apart, still clinging to each other’s hands as we faced him, eager for news and praying it was good.
‘Mrs King, Dr King—the CT scan shows a small stroke in the occipital lobe. The brain swelling is minimal and Paul has made some responses to pain stimuli this morning. I’m hopeful that means he’ll wake from his coma soon and then we can properly assess the extent of the stroke.’
We spoke for a few more minutes on the long-term prognosis, the treatment options and further tests required if and when my father woke up, then we parted ways, Mum and I heading back to the ward to resume our bedside vigil.
Jess arrived later that evening to take me to my parents’ house. Mum insisted I have a night away from the hospital, a decent meal and a proper sleep in a bed. Jess had cooked one of her feasts, and brought a bottle of wine and a movie for us to watch. Leaving the ward, we passed the nurses’ station and one of the evening shift nurses called out my name.
‘Dr King? The ward receptionist found this note for you—I think it’s been here for days. It was buried under a pile of lab results.’ She smiled, apology flushing her cheeks, handed me a slip of paper and rushed off to answer a patient call buzzer.
I followed Jess to the lifts, my fingers unfolding the square of white paper. My steps faltered, my hand flying to cover my mouth as my eyes burned. The note was from Nathan. He’d come.
Soph,
They won’t let me onto the ward—family only. I came as soon as I could, but I’m sorry if I let you down. I know you need to focus on your father right now, but we left things unresolved between us and when you are ready, I’d welcome an opportunity to discuss what happened face to face.
I’m heading back to LA tomorrow—work commitments—but I want you to know I’m thinking of you and am here if you need anything.
Nate
Under the note, he’d drawn a stick man with a speech bubble attached to his head and the words call me written inside.
He’d been here. Come all the way from LA and I’d been too grief-stricken and too scared to listen to his messages or answer his texts. I handed the note to a watchful Jess, my emotions so distorted I doubted my ability to make even the most basic of decisions. The lift sank to the ground floor and I clasped the handrail, steadying myself against the plummet as my heart was torn between soaring and sinking.
‘Are you going to call him?’ Jess’s voice was a cautious whisper, as if anything above thirty decibels would shatter me into a million shards. It might.
I shrugged, pushing away from the handrail as the lift juddered to a halt, depositing us on the ground floor.
My legs operated on autopilot as I followed Jess to her car, requiring no conscious input from my brain, freeing it to ruminate on Nathan’s note. During the short walk across the car park, I dissected every possible meaning of his words, desperate to calm my thundering heart and my stomach’s nervous fluttering.
He’d travelled a ten-thousand-mile round trip to see me and regardless of his intentions—to end this face to face or to support me in my time of need—I owed him the courtesy of a phone call.
The temperatures were mild, but as I settled into the passenger seat of Jess’s beat-up Toyota, I shivered, my limbs jerking and my teeth clattering inside my head. Jess started the engine and cranked up the heater, removing her jacket and laying it over my lap. Before she pulled out of her parking space, she retrieved her headphones from her bag and plugged them into her phone. ‘Call him—I won’t listen.’
My fingers moved over the screen of my phone and it took me three attempts to dial, my fingers clumsy with trembles. I pressed the phone to my face as Jess negotiated rush hour, and I waited for the call to connect. Running a quick mental calculation of the time difference between London and LA, I pictured what Nathan might be doing at ten in the morning. Had he been up for hours, fitting in a morning run before heading to some interview or press conference? Was he swimming in his pool, his spectacular back flexing as his lithe body carved up the pristine blue water? Was he at a breakfast meeting, Jake at his side, matching phones in their hands?
My insides twisted as doubts assailed me. Was I too late? Yes, if the pictures spoke the truth. What other explanation could there be?
The phone clicked, startling me as it connected, the slight crackle reminding me Nathan was on the other side of the world, physically and metaphorically. I sucked air into my lungs, my chest expanding until my ribs protested and my hearing acutely attuned for the first sound of his voice. It didn’t come.
A tinkle of feminine laughter. ‘Hello?’
I pulled the phone away from my head, checking the screen in case I’d misdialled. No—Nathan’s name and a clapperboard emoji I’d added displayed at the top of the screen. Someone had answered his phone.
Claudia.
‘Hello?’ Her clipped tone and impatient huff pulled me from my stupor. Should I hang up? Brazen it out? Pretend to be selling something?
‘Could I speak to Nathan, please?’ My voice was a rusty croak, so meek and uncertain, I winced.
‘Sorry, he’s … indisposed.’ She disconnected, but not before I heard another peel of her laughter.
Bile filled my mouth and I lowered the window, allowing the rush of air to blow away the heat scalding me. I’d been right—he’d moved on, and I couldn’t blame him. Claudia was his type—she understood his world, she was startlingly attractive, and she was savvy enough to know when she was being duped by a celebrity blogger.
Jess reached for my hand, her sympathetic gaze flicking to mine before settling on the road ahead. I returned the tight grip she had on my fingers, wordlessly transmitting my thanks for her silent support while willing myself to hold it together in front of my friend. Soon, I’d be alone and I could disintegrate in private.