You force yourself to face this. You hold Jarrah’s hand and watch as Finn and the paramedics lift the fallen branch off his leg. You see the jagged ends of his tibia piercing the skin, the sickening crush and angle making your head swim. You keep hold of him as they lift him to the stretcher and he cries out. You feel his grip slacken as the nitrous oxide kicks in. You don’t know how conscious he was, or is. You squeeze into the ambulance next to him, understanding distantly that Finn will follow somehow. You won’t let Jarrah go to the hospital without you. Not this time. Not this son.
‘He’ll be all right,’ one of the paramedics says, as the ambulance pulls out. They’re not the same ones who came for Toby, thank God. She’s trying to comfort you, and you nod as though agreeing. But how can Jarrah possibly be all right? How have you got it all so wrong? The broken leg is just the surface. Jarrah’s deeper wounds have been turning septic, poisoning him. You didn’t notice. It might yet be too late to save him.
Oh God, teenagers and their loose grip on life! No fear when they should have fear, and too willing to give life up. Don’t they know how precious it is? If losing Toby has taught Jarrah anything, shouldn’t it be that?
The siren wails through the dark wind-lashed streets. You remember, from when the police drove you after the ambulance carrying Toby, that the hospital is only a few blocks away from the house. Rounding a corner rouses Jarrah and he opens his eyes, gazing at you without focus.
‘Mum?’
‘I’m here, darling.’ You bite your lip to stop yourself telling him everything is all right. ‘We’re nearly at the hospital, Jarr. Not much longer.’
His lips move. He’s trying to tell you something and you lean close. ‘I changed my mind, Mum. I was trying to get down.’
‘Don’t worry, Jarrah.’
‘But really. I couldn’t get the stupid knot undone. The wind…’
His eyes close and you swallow hard. He’s too out of it to see that you’re crying.
‘Are we nearly there yet, Mum?’
‘Nearly there,’ you murmur.
‘Is Toby asleep?’
Oh God. He’s more out of it than you knew. You murmur something comforting and his head rolls to the side.
You let your gaze burn into him, as if you can read his heart, trace the lines that led him out to the tree in the dark to break his own neck. Your heart’s been so dark and raging you haven’t been able to see into anyone else’s. You’ve refused to see Jarrah’s agony.
You bend close and whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’
The ambulance halts outside Emergency. Murwillumbah Hospital, a place seared into your being. When you ran in here just three weeks ago, you’d still dreamed some miracle would happen when Toby reached medical care. As you follow the paramedics pushing Jarrah’s gurney into the hospital, the smell of antiseptic hits and the memories come hard.
You repeat to yourself: He’s alive. He’s alive.