Peter paced the corridor, fingers twitching, desperate for a cigarette. He had been stood outside the ward that Carla was on for ten minutes now. It had taken almost twenty minutes to find it in the first place, and when he finally had he'd discovered he couldn't enter the ward without someone buzzing him in. Peter appreciated the need for security, but surely there should be someone keeping an eye out for visitors? He thought about going to find a member of staff, but he hesitated, aware they had more important things to deal with. He knew it wouldn't be much longer before his craving got the better of him and he'd have to head back down. He felt the absence of a cigarette between his fingers, it was like a phantom limb. He'd been smoking much more lately, something that hadn't been lost on his girlfriend. Toyah had taken to making snide remarks every time he went outside, Peter just ignored her – would she rather he was nipping outside for something stronger? He was smoking more because he was anxious about Carla, he knew it and surely Toyah knew it too, that's probably why she'd been so snarky lately. But if she wasn't prepared to talk about what was bothering her, then Peter certainly wasn't going to ask.
It wasn't that he didn't care how she felt, it was more he wasn't sure what to tell her.
"Are you sure you don't still have feelings for Carla?" Toyah had asked more than once. And he'd insisted every time that he did not.
Unable to disguise his concern when they'd discovered Carla was sick, Peter had justified his reaction by insisting it was normal to still care about an ex. He still cared about Leanne in a platonic way, she was Simon's Mum after all, and if she ever needed him, he would be there for her. Same went for any of his exes, if they ever asked, although he doubted that any of them would. Was it normal to be losing sleep because your ex had been admitted to hospital for the second time in as many weeks? Peter wasn't so sure.
For the sake of a quiet life, he would do his best to keep his anxieties from Toyah as much as possible. Peter wasn't stupid, he knew Toyah was threatened by Carla, even before they'd found out she was sick. In the past when Toyah had asked about their relationship, Peter had been purposefully vague. Partly because he didn't like discussing his failed relationship with Carla, and partly because he didn't want to scare Toyah off. The way he'd treated Carla was despicable, and hardly a great advertisement for his next relationship. Of course, Toyah and Leanne were sisters, so he imagined Leanne had filled her in on most of the gory details.
When his and Carla's marriage had ended Peter had tried everything to get her out of his system (well, almost everything). He'd thrown himself into work, he'd exercised, he'd gone on dates with other women. Then he met Toyah and things between them got serious quickly, to the point where he'd almost convinced himself he was over Carla. Until he bumped into her outside Roy's and everything had come flooding back. Out of sight, out of mind, indeed. Still, he'd carried on as normal. Just because Carla was back on the street didn't mean anything had changed between them. Maybe she didn't hate him anymore, it even seemed as though they could be friends, but she certainly wasn't going to take him back, and Peter couldn't risk losing what he had for a pipe dream.
But then Carla collapsed, right in front of his eyes, in his pub. Advanced kidney disease Roy had said. It didn't make sense, how could someone like Carla, someone always so full of life, suddenly be dying?
"Sorry love." He was pulled from his thoughts by a passing nurse, "I hope you haven't been waiting long?"
He shook his head and thanked her as she buzzed him onto the ward. He approached Carla's room with trepidation, hoping she was alone, and hoping she'd let him in.
Her door was ajar, he knocked gently as he poked his head around, "Hey," he said softly, hoping he wouldn't startle her.
Carla's head snapped towards him, the issue of Cosmopolitan she'd previously been so engrossed in sliding down her lap, she grabbed it before it slid off the bed.
"Peter?" She looked startled as she pulled herself upright, adjusting the blanket that covered her legs. "What are you doing here?"
Peter stepped further into the room, aware she hadn't yet invited him, "I just wanted see how you're doing." He stood awkwardly beside the arm-chair next to bed, not wanting to sit down unless asked.
"But you saw me yesterday." She raised an eyebrow.
Peter shrugged, "I just thought you might be lonely."
Clearly questioning his intentions, she gestured to the chair all the same, "Sit down then." She said.
Relieved, Peter took a seat and silence fell over the room. "So, how are you?" He asked finally.
Carla rolled her eyes, "You mean apart from the obvious?"
He shook his head, "Sorry, stupid question."
"No, I'm sorry," She replied, "Sarcasm is my default."
"I know," He smiled.
"Do you want a drink or anything? I've only got water, but your welcome to pour yourself a cup." Peter followed her gaze to the jug of water that sat on the sideboard, alongside a couple of get well soon cards, and a bunch on uneaten grapes.
"I'm fine, thanks." He replied, and they were silent again.
He coughed, awkwardly, "Any word on Aiden? Did his results come back yet?"
Carla shrugged, "I haven't heard from him today, so I'm going to assume not." She paused, "Either that, or he's not a match and he doesn't want to tell me." She laughed hollowly.
"I'm sure he'll be a match." Peter said firmly, trying to convince himself as much as her.
"There's no guarantee, even though we're related."
"Well, even if he's not, someone else will be."
"I'm kind of running out of favours. Did I tell you Roy offered?" She hadn't, but Peter wasn't surprised, Roy loved Carla like a daughter, "I said no, obviously," She continued, "I'm not letting Roy risk his life for me."
"I could get tested." Peter said suddenly. He hadn't meant to, it was a thought he had unintentionally vocalised, although now that he thought about it, why shouldn't he offer?
"Peter…" Carla began wearily, "I know you think you mean that, but—"
"I do mean it." He interrupted her.
Carla fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, "Peter I really appreciate you wanting to help," She paused, "But you know you'd never be approved as a donor."
He did know that. Of course, he did. But there was still a small part of him that had hoped, just maybe. She was looking at him with pity in her eyes and he couldn't bare it.
"I think you need to keep hold of the parts of you that still function." She joked.
He rolled his eyes, "Alright, no need to rub it in."
"I do appreciate the thought though." She gave him a small smile.
"It was stupid." He said, embarrassed, "I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose I thought that if I could do this for you, then maybe… Nah."
"Maybe what?"
He was beginning to regret opening his big mouth, "Maybe we'd be quits?"
"Quits?" She looked confused.
"You know…"
Her face darkened, "Tina?"
He nodded.
"You thought if you gave me your kidney, I would forgive your affair?"
"Something like that. It's stupid, I know."
"Peter." Carla began coldly, "As much as I'd love to pander to your ego, I've kind of got more important things to worry about right now."
"Of course." Peter said, shame washing over him, "This was selfish of me, I'm sorry." He stood, planning to get out of there as quickly as he could.
"Does Toyah know you're here?" Carla asked him.
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Does she?"
"This has got nothing to do with her." Peter said defensively.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"You don't think she has a right to know that her boyfriend is going round offering his kidneys, willy-nilly?"
Peter rolled his eyes, "I wasn't planning it, I just, I—"
"You just what?"
"I just want to help you."
"Why, Peter?"
"Why do you think?"
"Well from here it looks as though you're trying to clear your conscience by offering me one of your vital organs." She deadpanned.
Peter shook his head in frustration, "It's not like that."
"I hope not Peter, because if that's the case then you're wasting your time." She folded her arms across her chest defensively.
"Look, I've gone about this all wrong." He shook his head, "I didn't offer to get tested out of guilt."
"Then why?"
He looked at her incredulously, "Because I love you!" He shouted, "Isn't it obvious?"
The room fell silent and Carla closed her eyes.
"I really don't need this right now." She said finally.
"I'm sorry, I know." He said quietly.
"I mean, what am I even supposed to do with that information?"
He shrugged helplessly.
"Are you trying to win me back? Is that why you offered me your kidney?" They both paused for a moment, then as though simultaneously realising how ridiculous the conversation was, both burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry," Peter said once he'd got his breath back, "Trust me to try and offer you my dodgy kidney, you deserve better than that."
"I know I do." She replied, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but they were tears of joy rather than sorrow.
"At least I cheered you up though, eh?"
"That's true, I haven't had a laugh like that in a while." She wiped her eyes as Peter sat back down beside her bed.
"I'm sorry." Peter said after a few moments, "I don't know what I was thinking coming here today."
"It's ok." Carla replied.
"No, it's not." He said firmly, "You're right, you've got much more important things to worry about than my feelings." He looked down.
"Did you mean what you said? You still love me?"
"I think I'll always love you." He said honestly.
Carla was silent.
"I suppose I just never thought we'd be here. You in danger and me unable to help."
"I do understand you know?" She said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Do you really think if the shoe was on the other foot, that I wouldn't be worried about you?"
Peter shrugged, "I wouldn't blame you if you weren't."
"Come on Peter, I know people think I'm a heartless cow, but you were my husband, I'm always going to care about you." She held her hand out and he took it in his, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "And I appreciate how much you care about me, I really do. But you've got a girlfriend, and a baby on the way, you should be focusing on them."
Peter sighed, "You're right, as always."
He looked at Carla, lying in a hospital bed, connected to machines, waiting to hear if she was going to receive the transplant that would save her life, and he felt ashamed. What was he thinking coming in here and dumping all his complicated emotions in her lap? He barely knew how to make sense of what he was feeling, how could expect her to? He needed to leave her alone for now, allow her to focus on getting better. Maybe someday they would figure it out, but that day wasn't today.
"I'll leave you to it then." He said, giving her hand a final squeeze, before standing and heading towards the door. He paused before exiting, giving her a final glance
"I'll be fine." She insisted.
He nodded and left.