COLD SHOULDER
This wasn't meant to happen. Not again. Lightening wasn't meant to strike twice, was it? Jal couldn't concentrate on anything. She just kept listening to the siren above her, firing out noise as if the world depended on it. Well, her world did. She couldn't bring herself to look at the woman next to her, bending over the tiny blood-stained body, squeezing her hand as if she knew what it felt like. No-one knew what this felt like. Jal frowned at the ceiling, staring through the metal and imagining what was going on up there.
"Very funny Chris," she whispered under her breath, "so much for Merry Christmas."
She cast her eyes downwards and accidentally caught sight of the motionless body in front of her. Jal could feel her eyes watering, and gasped as the tears ran down her face. It was the first time that she had cried for someone else in months. She hated being in ambulances. All of the fussing and noise and constant pleading to fix the patient terrified her. Last time, it was Cassie. And as normal, she had to sort out all of Cassie's shit for her. The time before that, it was Lynton, who had fallen out of a tree and knocked himself unconscious. Even though he had woken up within five minutes, he and Ace had insisted on calling an ambulance to make sure his 'bone marrow wasn't broken'. But this time, Jal was completely petrified. Every other time, she had things to distract her, things to do and this time, she had nothing. And today, Jal blamed herself for what had happened. Normally, there was someone else to blame or use as a scapegoat; when she found the blood dripping out of Jonah's ear and crusted around his nostrils, her immediate reaction was to hate herself.
Her dad had come with her in the ambulance. But he still wouldn't stay with her; he was sat in the front with the driver. It was easy for him there. He could ignore what was happening whilst she was stuck in all the action, being forced to look at her son dying. What the fuck had she done so wrong to deserve this?
xxx
They'd rushed Jonah into a private room, and said that she had to stay away for now. They said they were going to operate and were prepping him. Why was it taking so long? Surely by now it was okay to start, Jonah was tiny. How many drugs did he fucking need to knock him out? And her dad had disappeared, rattling off information to a nurse about family illnesses. And about Chris. She was partly grateful for that, though. There were only so many times Jal could explain everything without starting to cry. And then she would have to leave anyway. She hated people seeing her cry, which was why she had felt so embarrassed and awkward around her friends since yesterday afternoon. Besides, Jal felt ill: she knew that her mascara was still smudged down her face from her tears and that her pyjamas were bloodstained, reminding her of Jonah and Chris in case she forgot for one second. People were staring at her as well. Jal was paranoid it was because they knew it was her fault, that everything had always been her fault.
There would be more awkwardness when everyone else got here. They'd think it was all down to her too, because she didn't look after him properly, because she wasn't good enough. She shouldn't have gone out yesterday. She should have gone straight home after the club, to look after him, but she stayed out all night and all day. Jonah's illness was definitely her punishment.
Ronnie was coming back. The doctors were coming back too. And Jonah was being carted along on a tiny bed. He looked even more fragile than Chris had. Jal didn't think that could be possible, and she was just as scared this time as well. She was suffocating: there were doctors and nurses trying to speak to her, but all Jal could hear was buzzing. She could only think of how history was repeating itself, even though Jal had prayed silently so many times, willing the clock to turn back to how it used to be. Now she knew that you really did have to be careful what you wished for. Jal couldn't cope with having to go to another funeral, whether she felt as if she loved the deceased or not.
The doctor left, with Jonah and all the drugs, and suddenly she realised that her dad was standing right in front of her. And even though all she needed was him to support her, to comfort her (even if he lied through his teeth), he still looked disgraced and hateful.
"I'm going now," he spat into her face, "I got a call from Lynton; your mates will be here in half an hour."
Jal bit down on her lip, suppressing the anger that was building up inside her. She didn't know whether it was just her being tired and overreacting or whether she was justified, but whichever reason, her blood was boiling. She turned her head slowly, to look at him in the eye, but he was already walking away. Why the fuck was he doing this to her?
"What is your problem?" She shouted after him, "Why are you such an arsehole?"
He stopped suddenly, and turned around sharply, scaring Jal as he approached her angrily.
"Because I've been here before. I've waited in corridors like this too many times. I'm not doing this again."
"Not even for me? I've waited here too, and that didn't turn out well. I need you to stop arguing with me and being so fucking..." exasperated, Jal screamed, balling her fists, "Why can't you just be my dad?"
Ronnie sighed, rubbing his forehead. Jal glared up at him, demanding him to be helpful for once.
"Please. I don't know what to do. This wasn't meant to happen to me. Do you really think I want to be here?" She gulped down cold disinfectant-tainted air, knowing that she finally had to admit it, "I've got a dead boyfriend. A kid," she stammered, "And I'm waiting to find out whether he's dead or not too. Can't you just please forget about yourself for once and fucking love me?"
Ronnie stared at her, his eyes boring into hers.
"What makes you think I don't love you?"
"You hate me! Because I look like my mum. Because I'm not like your sister, even though you named me after her. And I don't understand all this fuss about your bloody dad. I haven't ever met him. Why do you hate us so much?"
"You don't understand."
"Fucking try me. I've had enough of it."
Ronnie hesitated, Jal glaring at him, the pair of them trying to stare each-other out.
"I don't hate you. I hate him. And you don't know what a fucking prick my dad is."
"So tell me. You never told me why mum left. You lied about where she was and why she never called. So stop it. Help me out! For fucking once."
"You should just focus on your kid. You got yourself into this situation, you get your fucking self out of it."
xxx
Cassie and Sid sat in the car, the windows rolled down even though it was cold and the wind was blowing rain into their faces. Cassie insisted on playing the Peter and the Wolf CD again, humming along with it despite not knowing the notes. Anwar was squashed beneath Cassie, whose dancing caused her to keep whacking him with her hair and flailing arms. Sid shifted uncomfortably as Michelle kicked the back of his seat, a result of snogging Tony as if it were an Olympic sport. Beside them, Ace and Lynton had squeezed into the middle seat with the seatbelt stretched over them both. They were half drooling over Michelle, half trying to focus their thoughts seriously on Jal; James and Maxxie were squished against the car wall, Maxxie's face pressing against the glass. They were stuck in a humongous traffic jam, the rows of cars in front and behind them endless. Not being able to catch a glimpse of the massive car-wreck which was the cause of their queuing, people in surrounding cars were staring at them, marvelling at how ridiculous they looked.
"Shit 'Chelle, do you have to make those noises?" Sid groaned loudly at the back of the car, resting his elbow on the side of the steering wheel.
"Why, Sidney?" Tony answered, breaking away from his girlfriend, who kept trying to kiss him whilst he was talking, "Jealous? Thought you got over that anyway."
"I have," Sid blushed bright red, "but this is my dad's car. It's a bit, erm...weird. And it's putting me off the road."
"The road isn't moving. So I think I'll just enjoy myself thanks."
Tony resumed sucking face with Michelle, and Sid was left again with watching the flickering lamp-posts for entertainment.
"Got any food Sid?"
Anwar nudged his with his right arm (the only part of Anwar's body that wasn't trapped beneath Cassie), making Sid's arm slip to trigger the horn. The noise only brought more attention towards them, and Sid wasn't sure that it was necessarily a good thing.
"Shit!"
"Sorry. But have you got any?"
"Erm, yeah. One mo."
Sid reached under his seat and pulled out a dust covered, half-eaten Mars Bar. He handed it to Anwar, who dusted it off and began to chew on the squashed, misshaped chocolate.
"It's a bit off mate. Urggh, there's a spider at the bottom! S'not halal anymore."
"That's disgusting An! I think I'm going to be sick."
Maxxie's muffled speech bounced off the window, and he carefully peeled himself away from the frosty glass. He turned around to frown at Michelle and Tony, and even though he couldn't see them through Ace and Lynton, he could definitely hear them.
"Will you fucking stop it? We're meant to be trying to help Jal."
Everyone in the car shut up, awkward now that the subject they'd all been trying to avoid had surfaced. Michelle shifted back round on top of Tony, wiping her mouth guiltily.
"Yeah," she gestured towards Ace and Lynton beside her, "sorry, guys."
They shrugged and an awkward silence clouded the car as the Peter and the Wolf CD finished.
"Thanks Maxxie," Tony scowled, "way to ruin the fucking mood."
xxx
It had only been hours, but it felt like she had been there for days. Jal was sitting on the plastic red chair again, her fingers fidgeting exactly the same way as they had done when Chris was ill. But this time, her dad was there, even if he was at the other end of the corridor, ignoring her. Her friends had returned home instead of sitting in some traffic jam; they'd called apologetically, but Jal still wished that she could be them, instead of being stuck here with only leaflets and sickeningly over-sympathetic nurses. The heavy doors opposite Jal suddenly swung open, and she felt herself jump to her feet, not only out of fear or worry, but force of habit. She stared at the surgeon in his blue scrubs, pleading him to have good news for once. Jal sensed that he was keeping something from her, because he wouldn't look her in the eye. The other doctor hadn't looked at her directly when he had to confirm that Chris was dead, so she came to trust this sign as a bad omen.
"The operation didn't go fantastically, Miss Fazer. Jonah's in a critical condition right now, but we're going to keep a close eye on him."
"Is he going to be better? Please?"
He looked her back, straight in the eye this time, and Jal knew that he was telling her the truth. He wasn't going to lead her along now; they both knew exactly how this could turn out.
"I'm sorry, but I can't promise anything."
He nodded at Jal, and at Ronnie who was standing behind her. As he walked off, Jal spun round, hitting her dad's chest, wanting all her anger and pain to transfer onto him. He had no idea what this felt like, even if he kept insisting that he'd been through it before too many times.
"Why can't you make him better Dad? Why are you so fucking useless?"
Jal kept thumping him, but Ronnie stood there motionless, holding her hands away from him when she kept trying to punch him. Jal started to cry, her hands falling at her side, and unexpectedly Ronnie drew her into a hug, enveloping her inside his arms. They stood in the corridor, Jal sobbing into his shoulder, Ronnie pulling her to him.
"It's going to be okay, Jal."
"Promise?"
"You know I can't."
"I don't understand why this is happening to me."
Ronnie sighed, holding his daughter's head to his chest, Jal's tears soaking through his shirt.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because you're my kid."
"That never mattered to you before."
Jal heard Ronnie breathe in sharply, and his grip around her loosened.
"Maybe you should go and wait in the other room for Jo...your kid."
"His name is Jonah. Okay? And no. I don't think I'm ready to see him yet anyway."
Ronnie frowned at her, and stepped away from Jal, studying her behaviour and appearance. Her mood was jumping around erratically. He liked it when she smiled at him genuinely, but she didn't smile at him anymore. He hadn't seen her smile like that at him for years and at anybody else for months. Well, since Chris. Surely it was natural, right? She'd been through a lot. It was okay for her to be broken and vulnerable one minute and furiously defensive the next. And he didn't have to listen to her insults. He'd had worse. Much worse. Even though she had named this kid after someone he hated, Ronnie was going to have to face up to it eventually. If she'd already registered it, it wasn't like he could make her change his name anyway.
"Fine. Jonah."
"Thanks," Jal glanced up at her dad, scowling at the way he spat the baby's name out as if it was venomous, "I really didn't name him after your father," she whispered, "Don't hate me...or him, please."
Ronnie stared at Jal, drinking in her tear-stained face and the blood on her crumpled, dirty pyjamas. He hadn't seen someone look so anxious and exhausted for a very long time. "Everyone was wrong when they said you looked like your mum, you know," Ronnie let his eyes meet hers, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting it out, even though he hated doing so, "you look like my sister. The spit of her."
"What?" Jal's brow furrowed in curiosity and confusion, her fingers frozen over the mark of blood on her shoulder which she had been tracing guiltily for hours.
"My little sister, Jalander. You're her. It's so confusing, you look more like her everyday."
"Why haven't I met her then?" Jal demanded, not knowing quite how to react. She knew that he had always measured her up to his sister, but she never knew why. Her dad never seemed to be honest with her, apart from telling her that she had fucked both their lives up.
"She's dead."
Jal sank down into one of the hospital's uncomfortable plastic chairs, ignoring the pain as her head banged against the cold wall behind her, "Why didn't you tell us?"
Irritation flashed through Ronnie's mind. It was too late now. He was going to have to tell her the whole story now, and to Ace and Lynton. Ronnie hated talking about his feelings and all that sensitive crap, especially with his kids. It was easier to lock everything away than to have people pitying you constantly.
"I was meant to look after her. My little sister. I can't tell my own kids that I couldn't...you'd think I wasn't good enough for you."
Jal focussed on the poster opposite her, adamant that she wouldn't comfort him, because he wouldn't help her, "What happened to her?"
"Jal was kind and pretty, but she wasn't thick and she thought too much. She got depressed when our mum died, always thinking everything over again and again, dwelling on the past; when I was sixteen, she tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists." Ronnie sat down next to her, but Jal couldn't force herself to touch him. Jal felt like if she did, then she would have to worry about this too. Ronnie lowered his voice, spitting out the words like bullets, "So we didn't talk about it ever, but I never forgot. My way of not forgetting was: drugs; parties; music; going out every night. And one night, Dad had his mates round when I was gone; they used to tease us all the time, saying we were idiots, had no future. And he let them. In fact, he liked joining in sometimes. It was fucking stupid because they were all a bunch of fat ugly pigs. So," Ronnie paused, preparing himself to explain the rest, sensing Jal's discomfort as well as his own, "that evening, they left these huge industrial boxes of aspirin on the kitchen table so my dad could flog them. He's an alkie. He was too drunk to notice them there and that she was taking eighty pills at once, with the vodka he had saved for the next day. He was knocked out unconscious when she died. He couldn't even get help when he woke because he was so wasted he could barely fucking stand up, let alone find someone." Ronnie turned round to face Jal, his eyes screwed up in the hospital corridor's bright lights. "Every time I look at you, I remember it all again. It's worse now because you've messed up too. You've ruined everything I did to stop it happening again. You were meant to be perfect. The Jalander that she was supposed to be."
--
To be continued...
