MARA
Sam sat slumped in the chair, her shoeless feet propped up on my bed. Her socks were giving off a slight whiff of sour milk but I didn’t mind. Crotchety Chris was on duty that day and Sam’s visits, which invariably involved bags dumped here and there, a coat dangling untidily on the back of the chair, socks on the bed, made C. C.’s lips pinch even tighter. You had to take your pleasures where you could find them in this place, I had learnt, and making some fun was even better.
It was very strange to be in a place where I wasn’t the one in charge of everything. Everyone kept telling me that all I had to do was concentrate on getting better. That I was in the right place. Wrong! I wanted to say, and probably had done several times over. I was very much in the wrong place – I was in hospital! Not a good thing and not the right place. The last person who had tried to suggest all of this was dear Ed. He even said that it was good for me to have a rest from being in charge, that I spent my time worrying about Dad, about Kate, about everyone far too much, and that I had to focus on myself for change. Bah! I had said. Lying in a hospital bed all day just meant I got to worry without being able to do a damn thing about anything. It was very frustrating. Only one more night and I’d be home. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.
Sam hadn’t stopped fiddling with her phone since she’d sat down. There was no doubt in my mind what the source of Sam’s preoccupation was but I was delaying bringing him up. It was, after all, one of the most tedious topics of the century. But after ten minutes of non-stop tapping and staring and sighing over the little black rectangle, I had had enough.
‘Must you fiddle with that all the time?’
‘I’ll be done in a minute.’
I waited, grinding my teeth, for a minute to pass.
‘Sam!’
‘Sorry. I’ve finished now. Can I show you one thing?’
I sighed but attempted to sit up.
‘Look at this pic on his Facebook page from the gig I was meant to go to – do you think that’s Rebecca’s arm around his waist?’
The camera had caught Charlie halfway though a word, his lips jutting unflatteringly out from his sweaty face. One arm was raised, holding a pint, the other round someone out of shot, whose delicate hand could just be seen appearing around one side of his waist. The flash hadn’t done him any favours, in my opinion. I sat back on my pillows. How many of these boring, samey party pics were there on horrid Facebook?
‘Well?’
I sighed. ‘Maybe, maybe not. Sam – I really don’t care!’
Sam frowned at me then went back to studying her phone again. That wasn’t the answer she wanted. Oh, she was pathetic, the poor old thing.
‘You’re not still pining after him, are you? I thought you’d gone off him. You’ve stopped dressing up.’
‘That’s because I’m only coming in to see you.’
‘Thanks very much.’
Sam pouted. ‘Anyway, you’re not meant to notice what I’m wearing, you’ve been under the weather. Can’t you just stop being so perceptive?’
‘I have far too much time to think in this place.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you do,’ Sam said distractedly, tap-tap-tapping on her phone some more.
‘So are you still chasing his tail?’
Sam finally let her phone drop into her lap and looked at me. ‘It’s the same old story, Mars. One minute I think it’s a bad idea but then the next minute not. The last time I saw him I was all geared up to stop whatever it is we’ve got going on – but I didn’t. He was going on and on about why I’m special, and why he likes me. But . . .’
‘But what?’
‘I just worry I wouldn’t ever fit into his world, you know? I’ll never be good enough for that. But then I think, why even worry about things like that? This is the twenty-first century, we should be able to be with whoever we want, as long as we . . .’
I didn’t fill in the end of Sam’s sentence. If I weren’t so tired, I’d shake the silly thing. If only it was possible to shake Charlie right out of her system, like shaking the last of the puffed wheat from the box. Wouldn’t that be satisfying? I thought, imagining the swift, final crunch of the puffs being squashed beneath my feet.