How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Four
I don't own Rookie Blue.
This one is fairly long and it's done in blocks. It covers quite a bit of time because I felt it was all related enough to be done in one chapter. Please enjoy.
She's probably not coming.
I was annoyed at myself for looking at the clock again. It had been seven minutes since the last time I looked at it, that stupid clock. It was a bland thing, all white with a black minute and hour hand and a stationary red second hand that ticked atrociously loudly in the otherwise mostly quiet waiting room. Right. Waiting room. Because it was a hospital. And people were waiting to hear about their loved ones – whether they were okay or not. Or, if you were me, you were waiting for someone to come pick you up. But they hadn't come yet.
She probably wasn't going to come.
Everyone who came through those doors – they opened with a swoosh each time and it made me so inexplicably annoyed – who wasn't Holly was treated to an extra long glare. Time crawled by, ticked its way through the minutes. I tapped my fingers, flicked through the pile of magazines on the rack next to me, and checked out the dead and dying plant life dotted around the room – anything to make the waiting seem bearable. But I kept finding my eyes being drawn back to that clock. Thirty-six minutes late.
She's almost definitely not coming.
I pursed my lips and considered the bag sitting on my lap. My phone was in there, somewhere. I could call someone to get me. Steve. Steve would come but he would be upset about it. My mother. Ew. That thought made me shudder. She's not coming. I wouldn't ask her to do that. But I should call someone. The hospital people wanted me gone – no surprises there. I probably wasn't the best patient. I should call someone…and yet my hand remained conspicuously distant from my bag.
Just a few more minutes. She promised. She promised she would come.
So I waited because, despite knowing that I wasn't worth it, I still hoped she would come. I waited. And waited. Later, with head bowed and fingers laced together tight so they wouldn't tap anything, I had been moved to the corner for being 'in the way' – my apologies for being shot while on duty as a police officer making this city a safer place for you! – I looked up to the clock again for what felt like the seven hundredth time. She hadn't come yet. She was almost two hours late. My side was aching something fierce and I bit the inside of my cheek. I was certain, so certain, that she wasn't coming and two hours was a stretch. My hands moved for my bag, my phone.
And then the doors opened and I started my glaring as I had for everyone who dared enter who wasn't Holly but the glare slid from my face when frantic Holly, frantic, windblown, wide-eyed Holly jogged in with apologies already tripping from her lips. She fell to a knee in front of my wheelchair – her eyes had locked onto me the second she entered – and I felt my eyes widen in surprise at the gesture. She looked me over, head to toe, and I sat still for the inspection. Her knuckles were white on the arms of my chair. I held tight to my bag, weaving my hands around the strap, because I needed to hold something because she was here, in front of me, here even though it took two hours of ticking clocks and decrepit plant life, and if I didn't hold my bag I would hold her and that was not okay.
"I'm sorry, Gail, I'm so so sorry," she said over and over again. "I'm sorry. My intern, he, god, he's so incredibly idiotic and he misfiled everything and I had to fix it, I'm so sorry, I had to fix it all before I left. I know I'm late, I'm so late," she chanced a look down at her watch and winced, "I am so late and I'm sorry, I didn't want to be. I really didn't mean to leave you but my phone, I really have no idea where my phone is-"
"Okay," I murmured.
Holly stuttered to a stop and searched my face, my eyes. "Okay?" She didn't look certain. She looked on edge, bracing for some kind of spewing vitriol. I didn't have the temperament at the moment to reassure her – it actually hurt a little for her to think that I would be cruel to her – and I was certain that I just wanted to get out of the sharp disinfectant smell and the hordes of moaning, keening, sad, scared people.
"Yes. Okay." I hitched a shoulder. "Can we go now?" At that, she jumped to her feet and tried to push the chair. It jerked and I grabbed at the side. "There's a lock," I gritted out, past the now-familiar thump of pain, to my flustered friend. Friend. That was the right term. Holly flipped the lock and pushed me out of the hospital.
I took in as much air as I could when we were out. Who knew I could miss fresh air that much? I wasn't a woodsy, outdoorsy kind of girl but there was a difference between choosing to stay inside and game and being forced to stay inside due to an injury. And now all I wanted to do was pause, take a moment to look.
The night was crisp and dark and so much bigger than my room. I rolled my head back on my neck, eyes searching the sky above, and I think Holly might have caught onto the fact that the inky black above was soothing me, making me relax into it, and pushed the chair a little slower because it took an incredible length of time to reach her car. I didn't complain. Why would I when the night was so much more – more widespread, more soft, more purple and black and blue and more careful of the glittering lights it held more dashes of silver fire than five points glow-in-the-dark stickers – than I had remembered it was, my memory of it washed false bright with fluorescent lights and white walls.
"You alright?" Holly asked quietly when I sat by the car. She tucked my bag into the trunk and moved around to my side to open the door. "Do you want to get in now?" she asked, quiet again. Perhaps she didn't want to disturb the peace. My peace. It wasn't really peaceful. I knew there was smog filtering my sight line to the stars and I could hear the honking and bad-temper of traffic jams and the car park tasted of petrol. It felt right though.
I turned to her and nodded, ready to leave. She helped me stand – I hid the fact that my drugs had well and truly worn off by now by ducking my head and slipping quick into the passenger seat – and she folded the wheelchair, putting that in the trunk as well.
Then it was just the two of us in a small box of a car and any peace I had felt was tumbled away with nerves. Holly didn't help. Presumably she felt her own nerves because she rambled like the beautiful, beautiful madwoman she was.
"Do we need to pick up any medication on the way to mine? Or maybe some food? Something to drink? Do you have any preferences? I like to drink ginger ale when I'm sick – my grandmother started that when I was young and I guess I never really grew out of it," she told me, hands lifting slightly off the steering wheel as she drove to punctuate her sentences.
I pulled the script I had been issued out of my pocket. Painkillers and antibiotics. "I also need to get my things from the apartment," I said quietly. She nodded along and somewhere between one nod and the next I fell asleep.
I woke to two pill bottles rattling in the centre console next to me and Holly muttering very quietly to herself, swearing at the people who decided it was a good idea to park haphazardly.
"I can arrest them for you," I mumbled. Holly jumped in her seat and grabbed at her heart.
"Jesus, Gail." I smiled apologetically when she had to take a few moments to calm her breathing. "I didn't know you were awake."
"Only for a second." I peeked through the window. "Yours?" I asked. "What about my stuff?"
"Oh, um, you were out of it when I got there so I went in and Dov gave me all your stuff. So if it's not packed nicely it's his fault and not mine, okay?" I shrugged. I really wasn't so particular with clothing. "He was going to work so if you need anything that isn't there, he said we should go back tomorrow. And I'm not sure where Chris was."
"Rehab," I grunted. Forgetting – stupid Gail – that I probably shouldn't mention that to anyone.
"Oh." Her super-computer mind probably filed that away somewhere for future reference and then, "Do you need help?" she asked, already leaning over to undo my seatbelt. I allowed it but drew the line at her opening my door by doing it myself, stepping out.
I probably should have said something. By the time I got to her front door, my leg and hip were aching, pounding, almost blinding me with the pain and it was all I could do to close my eyes against it.
"Gail?" I heard Holly ask softly. I felt her hand touch my shoulder but had to concentrate everything on tamping down the pain because jesus fucking Christ who knew a burning piece of metal throwing itself through your body would hurt that bad? "Gail," she said again, sounding stern and a little bit scared. I felt a little smooth thing being forced into my hand and heard a sloshing. "Put that in your mouth. Drink," she demanded and I took the pill and a sip. Then we waited, my back against the door and Holly hovering somewhere nearby – I hadn't gained control enough to check but I could feel her eyes appraising me so I knew she was near – until the pounding dully and I forced my uninjured leg to straighten and carry my weight.
"Better?" she asked. I nodded a yes. I braced, preparing myself to be yelled at for not telling her, for not saying anything, for being stupid, but instead she went the other way and started apologising all over again. Which really threw me for a loop so I didn't catch up and correct her for a little while. "God, Gail, I'm sorry. I should have realised. I was late and you wouldn't have been given anything for a while. I should have calculated that and realised you needed another one. I should have known," she said.
"Whoa. Calm down," I insisted. "It's okay."
"It's not. I was late and this is my fault." She bit her lip. "Maybe you should stay with Steve? He'll not let you forget a pill. Or Dov?"
"Nope. You are a doctor, Holly. You gave me a pill and water. Steve would probably let me wash down a couple with a shot of tequila," I exaggerated. "Dov would tell me to try herbal tea first because his parents were freaking hippies. And he doesn't really do well with painkillers." I grinned at that, remembering loopy Dov. He was stupid. Then again, loopy Dov had been a contributing factor in Chris leaving me so perhaps I shouldn't remember it with the degree of fondness that I did. Eh. I pushed on. "And if I were staying with my mother, she would confiscate them and tell me I didn't need them. Probably that I was weak. Definitely that I should push on and find some way to turn it to my advantage."
"Really?"
"Eh probably. Let's hope that I don't have to find out. Are you kicking me out of your house or have you calmed down and accepted that I was stupid and you are by far the best candidate to look after me?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," she laughed. "One hundred per cent."
"Oh good." I held up the second bottle of pills. "Because I can't remember if I should take the antibiotics as well."
She heaved an amused sigh and shook her head. "No. You only have to take them once a day." Picking up my two bags, she unlocked her front door and carried them into her home. "And they gave you one at the hospital this morning so you don't need to take one until tomorrow."
"See?" I congratulated her. "You know this stuff, Doctor Holly. I'll be just fine with you."
"Maybe Doctor Holly knows this stuff because the pharmacist told her because someone needed to know the instructions and someone was fast asleep in the car," she retorted pointedly, all raised brows and sneaky smirks.
"Maybe," I muttered.
I hobbled into her house, leaning heavily against walls and the backs of chairs and couches when she couldn't see me and moving relatively easily when she was looking.
"Okay," she said, coming back into her living room. "I've put you in the guest room because that way you won't have to tackle the stairs."
"I could take them."
"Sure you could. There's a bathroom just down the hall but you shouldn't shower tonight. Maybe tomorrow if there isn't any abnormal redness or swelling. I'll change the dressings afterwards so don't worry about getting them wet when you do shower. I mean, don't get them soaked," she clarified, "but a little water won't hurt you."
"Good to know."
And just like that it changed from good-natured to awkward, neither of us quite knowing what to do next. Holly looked around for something else to tell me – where things were perhaps – but I had been in her home before and there wasn't much to tell. It didn't look like anything much had changed. Except, perhaps, the person she kept in her bed. I scolded myself for that thought and, in penitence, rescued us from this awkward moment.
"Look, Hol, I'm actually a really good sick person. I'm quiet and surprisingly low maintenance. I'm, if it's okay I mean, I'm just going to go take a nap. And you can go do nerdy stuff like paperwork. Fix up that interns crap, try and get him kicked out of his program because obviously he doesn't belong there. Okay?" Holly laughed at that – I was super deadly serious. That kid deserved a kick in the ass. But she shooed me away and looked a lot less uncomfortable in her own home so my job there was done.
I made my way to the guest bedroom and dropped my bags into the wardrobe. I didn't bother unpacking. Who knew when Holly would want me to leave? No point unpacking. I could just pull clean clothes out whenever I needed them.
The guest bed was comfortable and inviting – Holly's bed was better, my mind supplied, and I viciously quashed that thought – and I fell easily once more into a deep sleep.
Only to be woken by muted screams that, as I threw myself further and further into reality, became whimpers and then just heavy pants. I ran my hands over myself and everything around me – short hair, that was new, newer than Perrick, I'm in my pyjamas, it's not a dress, no blood, I'm clean, feel this mattress definitely not strapped to a table, look nice sheets that's not the trunk of a taxi cab – until I could breathe without fear of conjuring some demon from the dark corners of the room, from the dark corners of my mind.
The door inched open and dusky light filtered in through the crack. Holly stepped in, with a bowl of soup my nose told me, and she smiled when she saw I was awake. I didn't dare think about how bad I looked but it must have been terrible ashen or sweaty or just round-eyed with fear because she took two hurried steps to put down the soup on the bedside table and she crouched by the bed.
"Hey," she said, a hand dropping to the mattress near my hand, "you okay?"
"Yes," I whispered. "I just forgot where I was." Part of the truth. Not all of it. I owed her all the truth – I had come to that conclusion when I realised we were well and truly over – but couldn't bring myself to tell her. I hadn't told her about Perrick or Jerry before. When we were a thing, I mean. When she was supposed to listen to me, hear me out, reassure me or whatever it was you were supposed to do with someone you were dating. So, now that we weren't anything, I couldn't bring myself to mention it.
"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked.
"Look at that," I drawled. "You should be a detective."
She humoured me with a grin. "I am a detective. Badge and everything." At my look, she continued. "From the bottom of the cereal box. But it is a badge."
"Impressive," I teased.
"Deflecting," she teased right back. I lowered my eyes to my lap. Damn. She caught me. "Gail?" I looked back up to her slowly and there she was, ready with a smile. "I'm going to get my dinner and come back in here so we can eat together. Is that okay?" I nodded. "And I'll turn on the light and we can talk if you want." I shrugged. "Okay. I'll be right back."
And she was. With her own steaming soup and a little fold-out tray that she used to put both of our bowls and even napkins and spoons.
"Cute," I said, trailing my spoon through my dinner.
"Tastes good too," she said, watching me until I rolled my eyes and slurped at the soup. After a few spoonfuls, she went back to her own dinner. "So," she said.
"So," I said right back.
"What was your nightmare about?" I stared at her and within two seconds she stared backtracking, probably thinking that the question was unforgivably rude. From anyone else, it might well have been. "I mean, do you want to talk about it? And I'm here if you do."
"Thank you."
I managed to eat most of the soup but I was too full by the time I reached the last inch or so that remained in the bottom of the bowl so I played with my food happily, tapping the surface of the soup with my spoon and watching it splash…until I looked up to see Holly's simultaneously amused and disapprovingly expression.
"I'm going to take this away before you can spill it everywhere, okay?" I surrendered my bowl to her better judgement and spent a few precious minutes considering whether I should just go to sleep or make a toilet run first. Toilet won out.
When I returned, Holly had flopped onto the bed and was staring up at the ceiling. I shuffled over and she turned with a lazy smile. "Hey. You should've let me help you."
"I can pee by myself thank you." I lowered myself slowly to the bed, managing to not wince at all when I made contact.
"Pill," Holly reminded me.
I took the pain killer and rolled the pill over between my fingers. "Later." She glared at me. "I promise I'll take it. Just…it makes me feel wonky and you wanted to hear about my nightmares so I don't want to be wonky for that."
"Oh. Okay then."
I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. Where to start? I didn't want to jump feet first into the nightmares. I wanted to tiptoe in, to explain why I woke up in a cold sweat and a scream at my lips. But I wanted to ease around it so I didn't actually have to talk about it at all and that might not be healthy but it was the way I did things. So.
"Did you know that Traci was dating someone? Actually, they were engaged." Holly frowned. "Oh, this was before Steve. Obviously."
"I saw him around," Holly agreed. "Detective Barber."
"Yeah." I was silent for a bit. "Jerry. His name was Jerry." I played with the corner of the pillow, twisting the excess fabric of the pillow case around my finger. "He died and Traci and Andy are best friends but Andy went away undercover and so she needed someone to talk to and I was there and that's why we're friends."
"That doesn't explain the nightmares," Holly prompted. And then, maybe thinking I didn't want to go into it, she changed her tone back to light and teasing. "Or are you scared of going soft?"
I scoffed at that. "Please, I'm Gail Peck. I'll never go soft." The smile that broke across her face was bright and I cherished it because it disappeared a minute later. "Jerry died because of me," I said very softly, an admission breathed out into the air. But Holly caught it.
"What? No, he was stabbed. By a guy. Podrick…Purtick…"
"Perrick." I tried not to flinch at the name. I couldn't meet her eyes. I couldn't.
Realisation dawned. She raised herself up onto her elbows and watched me carefully. "That was you? The girl he kidnapped? That was you?" I nodded. "They found her in the trunk of his taxi." I nodded again. "That was you?" she asked once more, so so quietly. I wanted to be exasperated but she looked horrified so I nodded once more. "Do you…is that what you dream about? Or is it about Detec- about Jerry?"
I thought about the images that made up the nightmares. They didn't always make sense so I shrugged. "Both. Sometimes. Sometimes," I said, hesitant, but when I saw her open and listening face I continued, feeling a tiny bit relieved by the knowing she was completely okay with this, with talking to me and listening to me, "sometimes it's just dark. And I can't do anything I was trained to do. I can't knock out the back light because my hands are tied and I can't yell because my mouth is taped shut."
"Is that true?" she asked. "Is that real? A memory?"
"Yeah. It's like I'm reliving it. But I know it's a dream because in the dark I can see his face. And sometimes it's not dark at all but it's red and wet like blood. And sometimes I can't see anything and it's just the sound of his shoes clicking around the room." She looked white now and I bit my lip. "I can stop."
"No. Keep going. If you want to, I mean."
"Are you sure?" She nodded and I still felt uneasy from the dream and I wanted her here beside me, I didn't want her to go, and if she was listening then she wouldn't leave. It was selfish but when everything was dark and I felt so intensely, fiercely scared, I didn't want to be alone. "Sometimes I dream about Jerry. And he's yelling, screaming at me to run but I'm so useless. I can't. I can't do it. And I can't fight back and I can't save him. I couldn't do anything. He died because of me."
"He died because some madman captured you. He was doing his job. And because he cared about you."
I didn't say anything for a little while. I knew it was true, sort of. It was still hard to join the dots – an alive Jerry and then a grave, seeing him lying there… "Can you turn out the lights?" I asked in a small voice.
"Yeah. Do you want me to go?"
No, I wanted to say. Loudly. Firmly. I don't want you to go. I want you to wrap me up in a hug because I'm feeling fractured and like I'm too big for my skin and I need something to hold me in hold me tight. I want you warm next to me so that the next time I wake up with demons taunting me, and they come tonight, I can know that you'll be right there.
But I forced a shrug and an easy smile. "I'm going to take my pill and go to sleep," I said. A non-answer to her question. It was totally up to her. She lingered for a minute, watching me take the pill, and then she forced herself up and out of the bed.
"Okay. I should go."
"Okay."
"Sleep well, Gail. If you have nightmares, text me. Or call me. And I'll come down. Okay?"
Never, my mind supplied. "Sure," my mouth said.
And sure enough, when the nightmares came back I stared at my phone sitting all pretty and inviting only two feet away. I ignored it and turned my head away and closed my eyes, trying to imagine anything other than my friends caked in blood and a floating madman circling around them.
I didn't look pretty in the morning. I shuffled out and Holly winced.
"Rough night?" I grunted a yes to that. "I thought I told you to text me," she prompted, flipping sizzling bacon over on the stove.
"I didn't really wake up," I said. And that was mostly honest. I had remained in that dazed, fearful state for the majority of the night and I doubt even if I had tried to message her I would have been able to think of the right words. "I think the drugs make it worse," was my next admission. "Need help?"
"No. Sit your butt down in that chair. It's comfortable and you still need to rest."
"Resting is all I've been doing for a week," I tried to complain. She was having none of it.
"And you'll do it for a few weeks more until you are completely healed. Sit. I'm making breakfast."
I felt bad that she was cooking for me. So I told her that. "But I feel bad," I whined. "Let me make something. You don't have to make me anything special. Toast. Toast is good."
"You were shot and you have to eat properly so you can get better now like I said, sit your butt down on that couch and wait for a minute." Her tone was surprisingly stern but it wasn't lacking in good humour. She just didn't want to be trifled with. I sat.
"No tomatoes," I called over to her.
"I know. You're allergic." Warmth suffused me with that comment – she remembered. That was nice. "And you don't like eggs. I remember. And hey," she called over to me, "if it makes you feel better you can buy dinner tonight."
I thought about that as she divvied up the bacon and toast and yoghurt cereal thing. When she walked over with a plate for me, I asked "Chinese? I was craving dim sums and mu shu pork when I was in the hospital. The best they had was an ambiguous looking meat thing."
"Sounds good to me babe," she replied, placing my plate within reach and returning to the kitchen for her own. I caught the 'babe' first and blinked after her. When she realised what she had said, she froze and looked from her plate to me. I kept my eyes on my cereal and from the corner of my eye I could see her shrug and then shake her head with an expression that I couldn't quite decipher. I hoped it was toward the regretful or sad end of the scale but I really couldn't tell. A few moments later, she dropped onto the couch beside me. "So there's this cool documentary showing at the moment. It's about-"
"No."
"But-"
"No."
"I didn't even tell you what it's about!"
"I got shot, Holly. I'm not going to waste my recovery time actually doing things like learning. Pick something else."
"It's about a whale that killed his trainer and"
"Barf." That actually didn't sound so bad but I wasn't in the mood for something about death.
"Only so many times you can use the 'I got shot' card, Gail," she grumbled. "Jeopardy?"
"No."
"Lost?"
"No."
"Morning News?"
"No."
"Oh look, they are showing Power Rangers for people as childish as you are," Holly teased.
I smiled sweetly. "Perfect."
"Really, Gail?" she sighed. I noted even as she did she was already changing the channel. We watched those colourful superheros kick villain butt for half an hour before the first visitor turned up.
I was getting fed up for Holly. This was ridiculous. I had never been this popular before and Holly's house was starting to feel like a brothel with all these people coming and going. I understood that they were trying to be nice, taking time to make sure that yes I was still alive, and I appreciated especially those people who knew me well enough to come with baked goods to calm my ire. But it was still too many people and too many random appearances for Holly to be comfortable. On the morning of my fifth day at Holly's, when Andy called to let me know she was going to visit, I snapped at her.
"Hell no," I growled into the phone. "Bugger off. And tell everyone else to stay away because this is Holly's house and you guys can't just get the address off her personnel file and show up whenever you feel like it!"
"Gail-"
"And I still don't like you," I said childishly before hanging up.
Holly didn't mention it but she definitely noticed the lack of visitors. She came out of her office to sit with me, peeking around to see if I had a guest, and there was a sense of relief that followed her. She was seriously too nice for her own good.
So, when Nick texted me a day later, I felt bad about asking Holly if he could come over. I didn't want to disrupt the peace we had built – carefully meshing our lives just enough so that I didn't die and not quite enough to annoy each other – but I did need to see him.
"Holly?" I called out. I heard the roll of her desk chair and she skipped down the stairs. I had to catch my breath and reorganise my thoughts when I saw her – she was in sexy librarian mode, complete with messy hair and glasses, and it made me totally hot for her. "Uh," I stalled for a moment, trying to track down my thoughts. "Is it okay if Nick comes over later?"
"Yes of course." She frowned. "But you don't have to ask. He could just get my address from the work file."
"You mean like everyone else did, showing up whenever they felt like it?" She nodded. "Yeah I told them not to do that." Her eyes widened and I rushed to cover my tracks. "Obviously because I want to sleep a lot. Hello, I'm injured here and they were so annoying always coming during nap time. It wasn't for any other reason like, eh, I don't know, respecting the boundaries of your home. That would be weird."
"Right," she drawled. "Of course." I ignored the way she was staring at me and I texted Nick the address.
"He'll be here around eleven. Is that okay?"
"Sure."
"Okay."
"Okay then."
Awkward moments like that were becoming more and more frequent – like we both wanted to keep talking to one another but we didn't want to annoy the other. Well, I wanted to keep talking but I was sure that she was just humouring me. So I turned and scurried back to the guest room and tried for exactly two minutes to straighten out the room and make it neat before stopping because it was just Nick and I didn't give a crap if my bed was messy or if I looked like shit. His opinion didn't really matter.
Two hours later, Holly let him in. I didn't want him to come anymore. My side was hurting and I wasn't allowed another pill for an hour still so she had sent my cranky ass to bed to rest. Nick came in with a huge box of chocolate and I changed my mind. He could stay.
"Hey," he said.
I looked up from the chocolate, immediately worried. He sounded sad. Upset. Worried. "Okay, what is it?" I asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. Tell me."
He tried valiantly but he didn't last long under my Peck perfected stare. He caved. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "It's my fault."
It took me a few moments to realise what he was talking about and, when I did, I lowered the box to my side and I frowned heavily at my friend. "Nick, it's not your fault I got shot."
"It was," he insisted. "I should have"
"Should have what? Nick – we weren't expecting him to have a gun. We weren't even expecting him. It was just a noise complaint, remember?" He lowered his head and I saw that his forehead was still all crinkled with a frown and I sighed. There was only so much that I could do and so I said sternly, "Don't you dare make this about you. I'm the one who got shot. You have to be nice to me, not make this about you and being upset because you can't foresee the future." That was the way I reassured him. It always had been. Being my normal, selfish, Gail Peck self. But when I sent him out of the room to make me some tea – and I added a few complicated instructions so that he would take longer – I grabbed my phone and dialled a familiar number.
"Andy McNally," she answered cheerfully.
"McNally, I need you to do something."
"Oh really?" she laughed into the phone. "Because I remember wanting to make sure that someone was okay but that same someone told me to bugger off."
"It's because I don't like you," I reminded her cheekily, smiling despite myself because being mean to Andy was always fun, and she laughed. "I need you to talk to Nick. Not right now, he's with me, but later."
"What?" She sounded clueless. "About what?"
"About me getting shot. He was with me and now he's wigging out. Saying it was his fault and he should've done better or something."
Andy hummed thoughtfully on her end of the line. "Shit."
"Yeah. So, I don't know, you were there when Chloe got shot and you haven't had a breakdown yet so I thought maybe you could talk to him and make him see that he did everything right."
"Well he did. He got you out of danger, applied pressure, called for backup and the EMT and-"
"Okay, McNally, I don't need you to practise your little speech on me. I'm hanging up now." She sighed heavily and I grinned. "Still hate you," I said sweetly.
I could practically see her face cave into a smile. "Love you too, Gail," she said equally sweetly. I grimaced and shuddered.
"Gross. Bye."
Nick came back into my room as I was putting my phone away. "Who was that?" he asked.
"McNally." I didn't want to talk about that, so I changed the subject. "The tea looks cold," I said.
"Yeah, you told me to add ice to it." He froze in place, almost to my bed, and looked down at it unsure. "Do you want me to make it again?" I thought seriously about it for a moment, seriously enjoying the thought of tormenting him like that, but remembering how genuinely upset he was that I got shot I relented.
"Nah. Chocolate?"
"Do you still hate the mint ones?" I nodded. "I'll have a mint one, please?" I waved at the box generously and he searched for the disgusting little chocolates. "And do you still like playing cards?" he asked, pulling a box from his coat.
"Why do you say it like that? Do I still like cards? It's not like I've changed completely since we dated."
"Hey, give me a break. I'm just reminding myself. Cards – yes or no?"
"Yes," I admitted. "And I'm going to kick your ass like I always have."
"We'll see about that."
I did. I thrashed him so thoroughly he didn't have the brain cells required to cry about his loss and think about my getting shot. And I crowed about it. That bit, admittedly, wasn't to distract him. That was just because I was a sore winner and taunting my defeated opposition was a highlight of the game.
"I handed your ass to you," I said matter-of-factly. "On a platter. A platter made of silver. I handed your ass to you on a silver platter."
"Oh ha ha," he grumbled. "You know that go fish is a game of luck, right? It doesn't take any skill."
"Luck schmuck you asshole. I beat you seven times. In a row."
He tossed the cards down between us and rolled his eyes so hard I thought he might strain them and I tried to keep from laughing, and failed, trying not to hurt my side, and when Holly peeked around the doorway I really did try to stop laughing because I didn't want to be too loud, too annoying, in her house. I smiled though – I didn't want her to think that her mere presence was enough to stop laughter dead in its tracks. She padded into the room in her fluffy socks and her messy hair-glasses on look still intact.
"Hey guys," she says. "I don't want to interrupt but…lunch? Do you want me to make you something, Nick?"
"No, no, I'll be fine. Thank you though." He glanced down at his watch. "And I have to go. I have a shift this afternoon." He patted my foot and scooped up all the discarded cards. "Don't eat those all at once," Nick said with a nod to the chocolate.
I held it to my chest. "Don't tell me what to do."
We hesitated. Holly was lingering just outside our two-person group but I could feel her watching and he could as well, I think, because he left with just a nod to me and I knew that in another scenario, a more private one, he would want to hug me. To reassure himself that I was still alive, still breathing flesh-and-blood, despite the scare we had had. I stared thoughtfully after him and fiddled with an empty wrapper. I hoped that he would be okay. I knew it was terrifying to see someone shot, let alone someone you know and are friends with. Maybe I should talk to him about going to the shrink. I hoped that Andy would be able to help. And I—
"Gail?" Holly said quietly. I blinked and looked over to her. "You didn't hear me, did you?" She smiled gently to take any force out of the accusation.
I pulled a face. "No. Sorry. What were you saying?"
"Do you want to have lunch now? You need to eat with the painkillers you're taking so…sandwiches?" My stomach growled and she nodded. "That's an answer, of a sort I suppose. I'll be right back." She reached over first, before she left, and snagged the box of chocolate. At my protest, she glared a little and scolded me. "You can have them back after you've eaten some proper food. Now wait here."
"Yes because I'm going to traipse while I've got a bunch of holes in my side," I snarked. "Good thinking, Holly! I should try that."
She ignored me. Like me, she was probably remembering the incident with the donuts. I would totally traipse around for junk food, holes in my side or not. We both knew that.
She returned with the tray from the other night and set up our little lunch table. Sandwiches with thick bread and ham and lettuce, water, paper napkins. They were delicious.
Holly was strangely quiet throughout lunch until about halfway through, when she suddenly said, "He seems nice." I shrugged.
"He's okay, I guess."
She nodded. A few bites later, she spoke up again. "He's your type then?" She sounded like she was teasing but there was a teeny, tiny little line between her eyebrows and it made me think that she was a touch more serious than she was letting on. "All rugged and handsome?"
I thought about it for a moment because I had never truly considered what my 'type' was. There had been a very specific reason that I had dated Nick. And I had dated Chris because he was sweet and it made the others a little more lenient towards me – not that it had been the main reason we were dating, it was just a pleasant side bonus. I didn't really do relationships though. I'd always thought it was because I was too cold for that, that I didn't feel things right, but it could just have been that I wasn't with the right person.
But how could I say that to Holly without it being weird? I couldn't think of a way to say it, so I said something different. "I was going to marry him," I said. Which probably hadn't been the right choice of topics. I made my tone as casual, blithe really, as I could. "We didn't fit though. We were two young idiots looking for something."
"What were you looking for?"
"A place to be ourselves. I had my family and I didn't fit, I was the failure daughter, I was the disappointment so I was looking for somewhere else. And Nick," my mouth twisted sadly, "he lost his parents when he was twelve and he never really felt like he had a place after he left the group home. We thought about making a home together." I shrugged. "I loved him and I thought he loved me too. But it didn't work out."
"What happened?" she asked, sandwich forgotten.
I fiddled with my napkin. "He left me at the altar."
"What? Really?" I nodded. "Wow. How was that?" she asked. She cursed herself with the next breath because she knew what was coming. She basically asked for it. A tidal wave of sarcasm. Unstoppable. Unrelenting. The kind of thing that just had to be waited out.
"Oh it was great," I started, sarcasm liberally painted over my voice. "Really fun. Swell. I thoroughly enjoyed being left at the altar. Humiliation is just, mm, somehow the best feeling in the world. And him leaving without saying a word was really the perfect scenario, exactly the way I wanted our relationship to end. The whole thing really gave me a sense of joy and accomplishment and satisfaction—how do you think it was?" I retorted. "It was crappy, Holly. Very, very crappy."
She winced. "Sorry."
All the fight left me immediately. "Eh, it's okay. I don't love him anymore and it wouldn't have worked out anyway."
"Oh?" Holly asked.
"Yeah. Turns out I'm a lesbian," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "And he's a guy so…probably wouldn't have worked."
It wasn't all interesting and in depth talks between me and Holly, though. I just didn't care to remember the times that I woke up drenched in sweat and wanting to reach out and text Holly, call out and beg her to come and sit with me because my side was on fucking fire and it hurt and I couldn't breath as the muscles spasmed around the healing tissue.
And there were evening battles over which take-away place to try, times when I hid away in the guest bedroom after PT sessions that took away the strength from my legs and made me cry for literally an hour, times when I shuffled into Holly's office and sat with her quietly as I tried to read one of her very intelligent journals that she had written. There were times when I didn't sleep and time when sleeping was all I seemed to be able to do. But those talks with Holly? Where she started to see the me I had always needed to hide away? Those talks were the most important moments for me and I remembered them in perfect clarity because it was her and it was me and it was us even if there wasn't an us.
Two weeks had gone by and a horrible thought dawned on me. I was in pain but finally, completely clear-headed without the painkiller in my system and I swore softly to myself. I knew I had forgotten something. Something big.
"Holly?" I called out into the apartment, not knowing where she was. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to take your pill," she said instantly. She was, apparently, behind me. Holly leant over to hand me said pill and a glass of water. I put them aside.
"In a minute. What time is it?"
She frowned at me, disapproving. "You're in pain, Gail." When I kept my stubborn face on, she sighed. "Almost eight." She looked. "Five to eight. Now will you take your pill?"
"No, it makes me groggy and weird and I need to call someone. I'll take it after." Eight o'clock on Tuesdays. They were my days. And I had forgotten. I felt like the worst person in the world.
"Promise?" Holly was saying and I nodded.
"Yes, I promise. Can you get me my phone, please?" I widened my eyes pleadingly and she huffed but relaxed from her crossed arms, resolute pose to grab it from the table. I dialled the number with a nervous glance to the clock and hoped that I could fix this.
"Hello?"
"Hey," I said softly. "It's Gail."
"Gail. You…I don't know that I should even let you talk to her. You missed two calls with no explanation, no visit, no follow up. She was crushed. You give me one good reason for that right now or-"
"I got shot," I said bluntly. I liked Sophie's grandmother and I knew she had good reason to be pushy and stern with me but the pain was putting me on edge. "I was in hospital. And last week I was so high on drugs I could barely remember my name let alone what day it was."
"Oh."
"Yeah. So I didn't want to miss today. Oh and…before I talk to her, if you let me, I was thinking if she wanted to she could come over to see me some time? I'm staying at a friends place right now but I think it would be better if she could see for herself that I'm okay."
"Yes. Yes of course. I'll set something up." She breathed out heavily. "How horrible. First her mother and now you."
"I'm not going anywhere," I said. I didn't want to be likened to Sophie's mom. It was scary. I knew…it had been close. But I wasn't gone, I was still right here, and I refused to think about how close it had been.
"Yes but"
"Lucile. I'm not leaving her. I promise."
"Good. Good," she said again, more firmly. "Well, here's Sophie then. It's Gail, dear," I heard her say to my little friend and then the crackle erupted over the line that meant the phone was moving, passing hands, and I imagined it pressed up against a pudgy round cheek and remembered the eyes and the little hand that had held mine as we had waited and waited for her grandmother and I could feel Holly's eyes on me but then Sophie was talking and I felt all my defences melt away and my voice was unrecognisably affectionate.
"Hi sweetie," I said. "How are you?"
"Good I guess. Grammy says we have five minutes."
"Okay." I leant into the phone and smiled. "I'm sorry for missing our calls."
"That's okay." I could sense her shrug.
I frowned at the thought that she was getting used to people leaving her. "No, it isn't. And I wouldn't have, I promise you, but I was in the hospital."
"Are you okay?" she asked in a slow voice. And I'd spent enough time around her to know that she was afraid. And brave, so brave, but afraid.
"I got hurt pretty bad but I'll be just fine, sweetie." How could she not be afraid? We had both seen what had happened to her mother. Sophie, that voice burnt into my memory. And grabbing hands. And blood. "I promise," I said again. "And I'll try and see you soon and we can spend all day together if you want."
"Just me and you?"
"Well I'll have to ask but if that's what you want then I'm sure we can figure it out."
She was silent for a bit, I don't know how long but I listened to her breathing and finally she sniffled. "I miss you," she confessed in a little whisper. I closed my eyes against what definitely were not tears. Then I cleared my throat.
"I miss you too, sweetie."
"I have to go," she said after another long moment of silence. "Love you," was her shy goodbye. That was the first time she had said that – did I even deserve it? I had forgotten about her and that was inexcusable, unforgivable, but she had given that to me, given me those words and I would be a beast if I didn't say them back.
So I did. I forced out a quiet "Love you" in response and when she hung up, I held my phone carefully, wonderingly, just staring at it. Looking up, I saw that Holly was sitting on the couch and wasn't even pretending to read her book. Instead, she was watching me as carefully as I had the phone. She was examining me. I fought with panic. What was she thinking? From what she heard, what conclusions had she reached? Maybe it sounded like I had a girlfriend. That would be bad if she thought that. It would make it seem like I burbled out affections while stoned but once I came back down there was another girl waiting for me who wasn't Holly and I didn't want her to think that at all, ever, and of course it would be simple to tell her right but I still didn't know what she was thinking and I was finding it hard to think at all, to breathe, to put together my thoughts well enough to understand me, let alone attempt to understand what Holly was thinking.
She didn't look jealous or annoyed or angry. She just asked me "are you okay?" and when I shook my head no she closed her book and came a little closer. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I…" Did I trust Holly enough for this story? It wasn't a secret keeper kind of trust, not hushed or private. It was a kind of trust that was on a different level and if I didn't hate the word I would describe it as intimate. If I told her, would she understand? Would she understand me, understand the way I felt about it? I needed to trust that Sophie would be as special, as much of a blessing to her as she was to me, or at least for Holly to understand why I felt the way I did.
"It was after we," I paused. I couldn't even get through a single sentence. I wanted to laugh at myself. Wanted to hate myself as well. "Broke up," I finished. It wasn't exactly correct. We hadn't broken up. I had thrown us away. She'd made a mistake, in my eyes, and I'd just thrown us away. But she was watching me still and I hurried on with the story.
"There was a lady and she was shot. By accident. By some incredibly stupid accident. She was," I shook my head with disbelief because it still seemed so unfair so horribly unfair and wrong and it wasn't that it was worse than those poor people who were murdered who were shot on purpose, it wasn't that, it was just that it was a bad thing that happened just because it did. No explanation. No reason to it, even one fuelled by hatred or anger or jealousy, and it smacked of tragedy. More so because Sophie was so wonderful and lovely and sweet and it just wasn't fair that she lost her mother. "She was doing her laundry and some thug was upstairs killing his boss and a bullet went through the vent and hit her."
Holly's face crinkled in concern and I realised I was crying. She moved closer still and, hesitating for a moment, laid her hand on my knee. I took what warmth I could from that and kept going.
"She had a daughter. Sophie." Holly's eyes widened with recognition and then a spark. Something connected in her mind and she tilted her head to look at me with immeasurable affection and nodded her understanding. And permission.
"Keep going, Gail."
I took a breath, jostled from my thoughts. A blush threatened to sweep my cheeks when I realised I'd stopped talking and started, well, just staring at Holly. But I didn't want to keep talking. It hurt to think about and it hurt to feel all over again like a cold little hand was wrapped around my heart squeezing. I frowned down at the still soothing hand and, very very slowly so she could move away if she wanted to, I took Holly's hand in both of mine and rubbed my thumbs over the back of her hand.
"I had to tell her that her mother was dead," I said quietly. "I had to hold her while she cried and I can't…I can't forget it. Her mother grabbed me. She kept calling out Sophie, Sophie, and I thought she was fine." I looked up and, if asked later, I would say that it was the drugs that did it but I was crying heavier now and I sniffled. "I thought she was fine because she was talking and she could see me and she got to the hospital quickly but Chris told me later that she died."
"And Sophie?"
"She's staing with her grandmother," I said, wiping with my sleeve under my eyes. "Lucille."
"And you visit her?"
"Sometimes. I call her once a week though. Tuesdays, eight o'clock." She nodded. Now she understood. But I wanted to tell her more. "She's such a sweet kid, Holly. She has a smile that just, it just lights up the room and she eats her vegetables without complaining ever and she told me she loves me."
Holly nodded. "She can come over. Here. She can come here to see you. Whenever you want. You just tell me when and I'll buy you guys some snacks and rent a movie or something." Her free hand came up to touch my cheek lightly.
I tried not to move into the touch. Instead, I bit my lip, worrying it between my teeth for a few moments. "Do you…would you like to meet her?"
She blinked. "Would that be okay?"
I nodded. Just once. "Yes."
"Then I would love to." She turned her hand over in mind so that she was holding my hand now and she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that happened to you and you didn't have anyone to call."
"I could have called you. But I was being…" I trailed off and then made a sound that was, quite frankly, appalling. She laughed. I grinned a watery grin. "Sometimes I need time to figure things out and I was trying to figure you out and me and what I was thinking and feeling and then Sophie happened. And I'm glad Sophie happened. Well, I'm not at all glad her mother was shot," I clarified, "but I'm so thankful to have met her because she's lovely. And then Chris happened and then," I scrunched my nose and frowned and shrugged.
"It was all too much?" she guessed.
"Right." I thought how to explain it properly. "Do you remember that stupid cat analogy I told you when we first met?" Holly nodded. A smile tugged at her lips and I answered it with one of my own. "So, lately it's been feeling like I jumped up into that tree except instead of me wanting to get down, it felt like all of the branches were breaking underneath me and I was climbing up the tree higher and higher and the branches kept getting smaller and smaller and they kept breaking and then I was right at the top of the tree with nowhere to go."
"And then what happened?"
I recalled that night, recalled saying 'bring it on' to the universe and telling Holly exactly what I felt, and watching her walk away and feeling that last branch crumble beneath me. Now I waited until she looked up at me, curious eyes as always, and I smiled.
"I jumped."
I don't know if she knew what that entailed. I don't know if she understood what I had hoped her role would be in that scenario. But she did say a small "Oh" and it was tremulous and cautious and I thought maybe that meant she understood enough to know that I was still falling.
"Yeah."
"Gail. I"
And then, may the universe kindly go fuck itself for doing this, there was a knock on the door and Holly was pulling away from me.
She frowned and heaved a sigh. "Just…hold on for a second." A few strides took her to the door and she looked through the peephole before throwing the door open with a worried expression. "Hey. Maria. Hey, what are you doing here?"
"You didn't reply to any of my texts," came a sweet voice. I scowled. Too sweet. I hated her. "I thought I would come check on you."
"Oh." Did Holly sound uncomfortable? I thought perhaps she did. I wiped my face again and sniffed once, making sure that I was presentable for company. "That's really nice of you but I, oh, umm, okay yeah come on in then…" she said awkwardly when this 'Maria' person stepped past Holly without invitation. Rude.
"Who's this?" she asked Holly, staring at me.
I smirked, sending her a wave that was really just a patronising little wiggle of the fingers. I think I hated her. She was pretty and dressed in bright colours and wore heels.
"Maria, this is Gail," Holly said. "Gail, Maria."
I nodded and smiled. "Mary, hi. Nice to meet you." Then I stood, ignoring the way Holly scowled that the action, and meandered over. I made sure to trail my hand along the back of the couch in a subtle show that I was comfortable here, I knew this place, I was allowed to touch things. I didn't think she'd catch the action but she was clearly smarter than she looked and she stared at my hand, then at me, with a burning glare. Perfect.
"It's Maria, actually," the woman corrected.
I shrugged. Dismissive. "Sure, okay. What are you doing here?"
"Me? What are you doing here?" I wondered, given the heat in her voice, whether Holly had mentioned me. Whether she'd told this woman that her ex's name was Gail. That her ex was blonde and taller than this Maria and had a cold stare of her own. That her ex could smile with perfect insincerity.
"Oh Holly is letting me stay here for a bit. I think I'm going to go to bed," I said, directing that last part to Holly. And if the slow smile that spread over my lips was a little too slow or suggestive, well. Whoops. Holly bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. It made me feel a tiny bit more justified with my treatment of this intrusive woman if Holly wanted her gone as well. I brushed past Holly – again, slowly – and winked at her. She rolled her eyes. But Maria didn't see that, she just saw my sultry wink and the sway of my hips that hurt like a bitch but was totally worth it because I think it caused the outrage in the Maria's voice. Naturally, once I turned the corner, I stopped so that I could eavesdrop on their conversation.
"What the hell, Holly?" she hissed. "What is she doing here?"
"I invited her." I imagined Holly folding her arms defensively.
"Why?"
"Because she's hurt and needed a place to stay for a while." She lowered her voice then and I only caught a few words – the louder, heated words Maria directed at Holly, and a few emphasised words from my Holly. Maria—I can't believe you was this—no not a game—it feels like that—no not like that—you played—it's time for you to go now. A huff, from Maria. I grinned when Holly told her to leave. Her tone turned superior, spiteful. When she breaks your heart you can't, run to me, won't be there—I won't, and a dismissive, thank you for stopping by—goodbye now—oh don't bother
"Okay Gail, you can come out now."
"Wow," I said, taking one pained step to lean in the doorway. "I thought you had better taste than that." There wasn't actually anything wrong with her. I just hated her on principal. Holly knew that because she shot me a look that just said play nice and I know what you're thinking. "What was she?" I asked. I didn't play nice. "A booty call?" Holly looked a little embarrassed, suddenly, and I grinned. "Was she a one night stand who got clingy?"
"Something like that."
I nodded. "So, was she the one? When you said you were seeing someone?" Holly nodded. "And since you just asked her to leave," I continued, "are you still seeing someone?"
"Not so much."
I nodded. I didn't dare let myself start to hope that I, that she would, that we could be something. But daring to let myself hope or not, I was still happy that the woman was out of the picture. I thought for a moment about saying something more, about trying to make us something. She wasn't seeing anyone and there was something between us I knew it but I also knew that now wasn't the right time.
"I should go to bed," I said.
"Don't forget to take your pill."
"I won't." I paused. "Holly?" She looked up. "Thank you. For looking after me and just…being awesome. I," I swallowed. Why was this so hard? Being honest and nice, I mean. It sucked. "I really appreciate it."
She smiled and that smile made it feel like all the effort to say it, to be honest and all that shit, was worth it. "You're welcome. But maybe try not to get shot again?"
"Smart," I said with a nod. "Good idea. I'll keep that in mind." I ducked my head and quietly wished her a goodnight.
"Sleep well, Gail." And I took that benediction with me to my bed and slept for once without the looming presence of nightmares.
My last night with Holly was strained. We both felt it. It might be selfish and stupid but I felt like even the thought of leaving this place and her was like willingly and purposefully scooping a hole out of my chest.
Whatever we had was coming to an end and I knew I wasn't brave enough to – you know what, screw that. I was brave enough. I didn't want to leave. So my mouth embrace this whole honesty thing I had going on and as we sat with our dinner, I blurted out, "I don't want to go."
She looked up, surprised. "What?"
"Tomorrow. To Dov's. I don't…" I shrugged. What did I have to lose by saying it? I'd already started it. And she knew how I felt. "I don't want to leave. Here. You. It's been less crappy than it could have been."
"Oh. Well," she shrugged. "You can stay for another night if you want. One more won't make a difference." Holly then pursed her lips and looked away thoughtfully. "Or…" I leant in. Or? "Or, you can go home and on Friday you can take me to see a movie."
I held my breath. She couldn't be saying what I thought she was saying. Could she? "What?"
"We don't have to. I just thought it could be fun."
"No! I mean, yes. But what? What are you saying? Because if you…Holly?" I whined. I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask, is this you asking me on a date? Or asking me to ask you on a date? Is that what you are saying because if it isn't I don't think my heart will ever beat right again.
"I'm saying, Gail, do you want to go on a date? With me?"
"Oh thank fucking Christ. Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes. Now excuse me because I have to go and make sacrifices to a dozen heathen gods for answering my prayers." She laughed and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving the couch.
"You prayed for me?" she teased, poking me gently in the side. Not the mostly healed but still sore side, thank god.
There were two ways to answer her and one was to laugh about it and the other was to tell her that seriously, yes, I had prayed for her, I had asked god with whom I was very unfamiliar for a second chance to take it back and not be such an ass, yes I had asked the universe to rearrange the stars and give me a way to prove that I could be better and a less crappy version of myself.
"Eh," I found myself saying. "Maybe a little. But it could also have been the deal I made with the devil so if I do anything particularly evil, don't worry. It's just because I sold my soul."
"Sounds like you covered all your bases then," Holly said.
"Anything to get you back," I said very, very quietly and Holly nudged her way to sit right up against me and she took my chin in her hand and pressed a kiss to my cheek and rested her forehead against mine.
And she murmured, "I asked for you too." She grinned. "All you needed to do was not be such an idiot."
"I'm stupid, I get it," I said but I couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across my face. "But I figured it out."
"Yes you did. And as your prize you get to take me on a date. Maybe more than one, depending on how good the first one is."
"Yay," I mock-cheered. I also pretended not to see that she stole some of my dinner from my plate. The first time. The second time, I batted her hand away and glared. "Look, I'm happy that we're dating again but that doesn't mean you get to touch my food. You do have your own, Holly."
Okay I'm not one hundred per cent sure about this chapter. It's a bit different from the others. But regardless, I hope that you enjoyed it. Please let me know. Happy reading, readers :)