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‘YOU’RE SNORING,’ LAUGHED Gary.
‘Lenny?’ Michelle opened her eyes. She had no clue as to where she was. Glancing down, she was surprised to see a spotted theatre robe instead of a curry-stained dressing gown.
Gary handed her an Americano. ‘From the little kiosk opposite the hospital. It’ll wake you up. I had one. I’m buzzing.’ He placed a caramel shortbread on the bedside trolly.
She squinted and tried to focus on one of the Garys standing in front of her. ‘I’m awake. Jsht need to focush.’
‘They said you’re fine to leave, but you don’t sound right. And your eyes look weird. They’re not moving together.’
‘Resht eyes. Drive.’ Michelle pushed herself up an inch from the armchair with her free hand, wobbled and flopped back down. She didn’t flinch as the scalding coffee splashed over her foot.
Gary grabbed a handful of paper towels. ‘Didn’t that hurt?’
‘Letsh go.’
‘You’re joking, you sound like you’ve had a skinful.’
‘Jusht a little cut.’
They had only given her a light sedative, but she’d forgotten to tell them how sensitive she was to sedating substances. Apparently, that’s why she got drunk so quickly. Something to do with a sluggish liver, her GP had explained after one set of blood tests. Not the cause of the fatigue, just an extra little nuisance.
They’d had to practically rag-doll her awake in the recovery room. And by all accounts, the anaesthetist had had a sweat on, thinking he’d given her an overdose.
‘Doesn’t look too bad.’ Gary squinted at the dressing covering her entire chin. ‘It’s bigger than I expected though.’
The recovery nurse had shown her the wound when she’d finally come to after the biopsy. A two-inch line of stitches sat in the crevice between her lower lip and chin. She’d cry-laughed in relief, which really hurt. Back on the ward they’d given her a cautionary dose of morphine and she’d floated into a magical, hazy world, where the nurses glided around on rollerblades, and she chatted with the little blue-capped chaffinches perched on top of the curtain rails. They got her to join in when they sang a beautiful melody.
She sipped the coffee but didn’t dare attempt to open her mouth wide enough to bite into the caramel shortbread.
Natalie, her ward nurse, returned with the discharge paraphernalia. She looked Gary up and down as she handed Michelle a white paper bag. ‘You can get dressed. Here’s your medication.’ She grinned at Gary and then turned to Michelle. ‘Oh, and we all loved your twittering earlier.’
Michelle blushed.
Gary shuffled awkwardly and shot Natalie a shy smile as she left the bed space. The coffee started to take effect and Michelle was able to inspect the contents of the bag. Half a dozen dressings and a small box of Paracetamol.
Natalie came back, and without taking her eyes off Gary, she handed Michelle a small card. ‘Your appointment to see Mr Kaseem next week.’ She walked away without having so much as glanced in Michelle’s direction.
Gary watched Natalie leave the bay. ‘Shall we stay for a while until you’re compos mentis?’ He pulled the curtains around her so she could get dressed, then scooted off in Natalie’s direction.
Michelle struggled into her clothes and was sitting sipping coffee and picking the caramel off her shortbread when Gary returned, smiling.
‘Right, let’s go,’ he said.
‘But I thought –’
‘Come on, pull yourself together, they said you were fine to leave.’ He gathered up her belongings, took her by the arm and hauled her out of the chair. He tried to take the coffee, but she clung onto it.
Michelle had to link him to walk to the car. The floor seemed higher than usual and she had to pull her knees right up to take each step. The sound of her sandals slapping off the floor echoed around the corridor and her feet stung with each step.
Gary looked at her in concern. ‘I think they’ve made a mistake letting you out. Shall I ask someone for a wheelchair? Natalie might know where to find one.’
Michelle giggled and slopped coffee onto the floor. ‘I’m fine.’
When they finally reached the car, Gary had to fasten her seat belt. ‘Will you get the rest of that coffee down you, for God’s sake. Jesus, I never used to be this bad when I was on the whacky backy.’ He rolled down her window.
Halfway home, the combination of caffeine and cold air kicked in. Once properly awake, she could feel a deep ache around the wound. ‘You didn’t tell Sara or Mam, did you?’
‘No, they think you’ve had your pen mark removed. Mam said it was a waste of NHS money.’
‘I’m so relieved they didn’t take away my lower jaw.’
Gary laughed. ‘Maybe next time, eh?’
‘Not funny. I could still end up looking like Mr Burns off The Simpsons. Just a set of top teeth on a neck.’ Please don’t let it be cancer, she prayed.
‘Oh, this’ll make you laugh. Dad’s going mad because Sylvia went to the Bingo on the hospital library night out. He thinks she’s having an affair with Frankie Cullen, the Bingo caller.’
An image came to Michelle’s mind – Sylvia, dolled up to the nines, sitting at a table laid out with bingo cards and fluorescent marker pens, waving her thanks to Frankie Cullen for the double vodka and Coke he’d sent over.
‘Apparently,’ Gary said, ‘Dad used to follow Sylvia when she was married to Norman. He told Mam he was watching out for his best mate.’
‘Mam can be such an idiot sometimes. Where did he follow her to?’
‘Curtis shoe shop. He reckoned the manager was after her.’
Michelle recalled Sylvia’s impressive shoe collection. And long red nails. She could almost smell Elnett hairspray and hear the distant clacking of heels on concrete. ‘He probably was. He was manager there when I had my Saturday job. Slimy creep in a shiny suit. Always smelled of mince and onions.’
‘There are ructions going on at their house at the minute. He wants her to pack in volunteering. The other day he was lecturing me about the importance of trust in a marriage.’
‘Bloody nerve. He should have a chat with Mam about that.’
Michelle checked her mobile. Still no reply from Dan. How embarrassing. There was Sylvia, nearly seventy, men all over chasing her, and here she was, text-stalking her ex. Pathetic, she thought, thanking God she hadn’t told Dan about the maybe cancer. If he’d ignored that, she would’ve been traumatised. She felt herself flush up, as an image of herself clad in a dressing gown and chasing Dan down the green came to mind.
The green in question was a stretch of grass between two streets of houses down from her mother’s cul-de-sac. Her dad had taught herself and Gary to fly their kites there when they were children. He’d been critical about their technique, and she recalled feeling fearful she’d get it wrong, and he’d stop loving her. She’d eventually got the hang of it, her heart skipping with happiness. But when she looked at him for signs of approval, he was standing, his arms folded, staring into the distance. She wanted to shout, ‘Dad, look, I’ve done it,’ but she’d thought he might tell her off for bragging, so she’d said nothing.
The effects of the sedating medication had more-or-less worn off, barring a vague feeling of fuzziness, which made it difficult to suppress a sudden barrage of uncomfortable thoughts. Was it her dad’s love she was mentally chasing down the green? Had she somehow deliberately manifested one-sided relationships, to replicate the one she’d had with her dad? No, don’t be stupid, she told herself. It’s the medication talking.
Michelle stared out of the car window and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. She reasoned with herself that if she’d had such amazing mystical powers, she’d have used them to magic up a wonderful life, not a miserable one.
Gary glanced over at her. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine thanks,’ she said without looking at him. Why on earth would I do that to myself?
