Train on the tracks
"Come now, surly you and I are beyond speaking when words are clearly not
enough." Jane Austin, 'Mansfield Park.'
I wake up with a start. My head pounds and my back aches. I stand up slowly from my position on the floor in my bed room, and stumble into the bathroom. I run the cold tap and splash the icy water on my face, running my hands over the stubble on my chin before meeting my reflection in my mirror above the sink. The sight takes even me by shock for a moment. Black circles cast my eyes into shadow, my chin is littered with sticky hairs and (disgusting as it is) a little drool. Reaching up to touch my face is when I notice the deep red gash on the back of my hand.
The memories floods back and makes me slightly nauseous. I look round into the bedroom and sure enough, it's true. The broken glass lays in a heap of strongly smelling beer. I guess the alcohol had the opposite effect; the more I drank, the more I thought. The more I thought the more I didn't want to think. I thought about the nights since she got ill, the nights I'd spent just watching her sleep, not in our bed, in a hospital bed. Seeing her lying there, helpless. and all I wanted was for her to reach out and touch me. Tell me she could feel my hands clinging to hers, holding on to her. It hurts so much, just sitting there, seeing her try and hold on to something real and normal, but seeing the battle behind her eyes. I lost it. I through the beer bottle against the wall, and started yelling and hitting things. Huh, the neighbours probably think I'm insane. The cut came when I tried to pick up the broken glass whilst my head was still spinning.
I open the cupboard and pull out some cream and a plaster, seeing to my hand and flinching slightly as the antiseptic cream stings. Suddenly a loud bleeping noise causes my head even more pain; my alarm clock. I quickly make it to my bed, and dive across, hitting the switch, and the noise stops abruptly. Rolling over, I close my eyes for a second to try and regain my focus. It's no good. I go back into the bathroom and turn the shower on, take off last night's beer and blood stained shirt and throw it in the wash basket, followed by my pants and boxers. Stepping in the shower I adjust the temperature to just hot enough not to scold. For a few moments I don't bother doing anything, just stand there and lean against the wall, letting the water wash over me.
"Jack" I look up, startled by the sound of her voice
"Its ok, Jack."
"Sam?" she smiles and moves closer, placing her hands on my hips and pulling me against her. One hand snakes up and runs through my hair, her other staying on my waist. Her lips gently brush against my own, a deep kiss follows.
The water turns cold and when I open my eyes, she's gone. I curse myself for believing she was real, if it was only for a few seconds as I pick up the shower gel and get on with my wash so that I can get to the hospital and be with her.
**
SAM
The days pass, or so I'm told; I can't tell anymore. Dr Murphy came to see me two days ago. Finally after a week of having that thing stuck in my throat he agreed to remove it. It was so uncomfortable. They gave me a local anaesthetic, but something sociological let me imagine what it would feel like. Jack stayed at my side the entire time, and bless him he turned a little green at the sight, and had a renewed determination after that to keep his eyes locked on my face, or hands.
After having the dressing changed, as the wound bleed slightly, I was left alone, with no more machines sticking out of me. The more time that passed, the more I could do. Three weeks since the operation, and I am finally off my back and in a chair. Cassey loved it when she came to visit me, found a cute guy down the hall to have a race with.
But no matter how much time passed, I was determined that there was something I had to ask Jack about. The first day after the operation, he came in to see me, and he looked as though he hadn't slept at all. Not only that but he had a cut on his hand, held together by butterfly stitches. I want to know what happened.
He reads to me everyday, and today is no different. I don't hear the words, just his voice. It's like a lullaby. Monday comes and I am sitting in my chair next to the window. It's the end of November, and there is a thick frost covering the hospital grounds as the weak midday sun tries its best to cut through and melt it, before the night takes hold again. I am startled by Janet's voice at the door, bringing me back to reality.
"Guess what? You can go home!" she smiles.
"Finally! No offence Doc, but I'm sick of the sight of this place." Jack says, closing the book and giving me a wink. I smile, and turn my chair around to face them both. I have my arms under control mostly. Sometimes I get numbness in my fingers, but I have been determined to get them working again, and that's just what I have done.
"None taken, I have several nurses seeking therapy after being exposed to you for more than five minutes a day. And you're not even the patient. I don't know how you put up with him Sam!" I smile and shake my head, sometimes I wonder too. Then I remember I know exactly why I put up with him; for starters he is gorgeous, loyal, dedicated, loveable.I could go on.
"Hey!" he fakes a hurt look.
"Ok, let's not start a lover's tiff, not if you want to get home before Christmas." I had forgotten about Christmas.
"Now there are a few ground rules."
"Of course"
"For starters, I am coming to see you twice a week, to check that dressing and your blood pressure and, well you know the drill. You still have to take the tablets for the anaemia, and the pain killers when you need them, plus I want you to finish the antibiotics we put you on."
"We can do that, right babe?" I nod.
"Also, Charlotte is gonna make home visits from now on. Jack, you've set up the equipment, right?" he nods. "Good. She will show you exercises you can do on your own, but for the first week or so, if you could supervise Jack. Maybe you could join in, loosen that knee up a bit." He flinches slightly at the mention of his notoriously bad knee. Charlotte is the physiotherapist who has been working with me for the last week or so. She showed me what I had to do to get my arms back in action, and we are moving on to walking once I have down the ground work.
"Your speech therapy starts next week, but you will come here for that. There's no reason you can't start at home, but take it slow. I know you Sam, but you need to be patient, or you could do more damage."
Clearing his throat, Jack eagerly asks if there is anything else we should know. With the shake of her head he rubs his hands together and hopes down off the bed. Janet leaves us alone, going to get my discharge forms.
"I've moved everything I think you'll need into my place. When you're better we will go to yours and pick up the rest of your stuff." He says with a satisfied smile. I return the favour.
20 minutes later I am on my way home, jacks house. From now on, that is my home. Feels kinda weird, but in a good way. I always imaged myself living with him. Getting up in the morning, wearing his shirt, and he would come and place his arms around me, trying to kiss me as I clean my teeth. We would have a play fight and it would end with me lying in his arms, breathing in the unmistakable smell of his cologne. A tinge of sadness hits me as I realise things can't be like that, at least not at the moment.
We pull into the drive, and he jumps out to open the door, then comes back and carries me into the house, placing me on the sofa before putting the kettle on and going back to the truck to get my things in. I look around the room. It's so different to the last time I saw it. For starters any steps now either have ramps or lifts, the tables have been replaced by lower ones, and there are handles dotted here and there. He sits down on the sofa next to me, handing me a cup of tea.
"Must be good to have some real tea at least?" he says, placing a hand on my knee and squeezing gently, taking a sip of his own drink, which from the smell is probably coffee. I watch him intensely. How could he do this, just give up his whole life, turn his world and he's house upside down, for me? Why? I know why, but it still amazes me. He is so strong, and brave. I don't know if I could do this, if it was the other way round? The emotion he feels for me, and what I feel for him.it scares me sometimes, it's that fierce.
"Looks strange don't it? Don't worry, coz I'm here every step of the way, and when your better this can all go away, and we will make this place ours. Or if maybe we can find somewhere else, together, a house that really is ours." He brushes the hair from my eyes.
I would sell my soul just to be able to tell him I love him right now. I lay my head on his shoulder and pull myself closer to him. He wraps his arms around me and we just sit, basking in each others warmth until the sun sets and the room is plunged into darkness. I fall asleep in his arms for the first time in what feels like a century.
TBC
Not much more to go now. One, maybe two more chapters I reckon, depends how long I make them and whether I get hit by something that just has to go in there. P.S. Sorry for any typo's, I am not using my normal computer and its taking me a while to get used to this keyboard.
"Come now, surly you and I are beyond speaking when words are clearly not
enough." Jane Austin, 'Mansfield Park.'
I wake up with a start. My head pounds and my back aches. I stand up slowly from my position on the floor in my bed room, and stumble into the bathroom. I run the cold tap and splash the icy water on my face, running my hands over the stubble on my chin before meeting my reflection in my mirror above the sink. The sight takes even me by shock for a moment. Black circles cast my eyes into shadow, my chin is littered with sticky hairs and (disgusting as it is) a little drool. Reaching up to touch my face is when I notice the deep red gash on the back of my hand.
The memories floods back and makes me slightly nauseous. I look round into the bedroom and sure enough, it's true. The broken glass lays in a heap of strongly smelling beer. I guess the alcohol had the opposite effect; the more I drank, the more I thought. The more I thought the more I didn't want to think. I thought about the nights since she got ill, the nights I'd spent just watching her sleep, not in our bed, in a hospital bed. Seeing her lying there, helpless. and all I wanted was for her to reach out and touch me. Tell me she could feel my hands clinging to hers, holding on to her. It hurts so much, just sitting there, seeing her try and hold on to something real and normal, but seeing the battle behind her eyes. I lost it. I through the beer bottle against the wall, and started yelling and hitting things. Huh, the neighbours probably think I'm insane. The cut came when I tried to pick up the broken glass whilst my head was still spinning.
I open the cupboard and pull out some cream and a plaster, seeing to my hand and flinching slightly as the antiseptic cream stings. Suddenly a loud bleeping noise causes my head even more pain; my alarm clock. I quickly make it to my bed, and dive across, hitting the switch, and the noise stops abruptly. Rolling over, I close my eyes for a second to try and regain my focus. It's no good. I go back into the bathroom and turn the shower on, take off last night's beer and blood stained shirt and throw it in the wash basket, followed by my pants and boxers. Stepping in the shower I adjust the temperature to just hot enough not to scold. For a few moments I don't bother doing anything, just stand there and lean against the wall, letting the water wash over me.
"Jack" I look up, startled by the sound of her voice
"Its ok, Jack."
"Sam?" she smiles and moves closer, placing her hands on my hips and pulling me against her. One hand snakes up and runs through my hair, her other staying on my waist. Her lips gently brush against my own, a deep kiss follows.
The water turns cold and when I open my eyes, she's gone. I curse myself for believing she was real, if it was only for a few seconds as I pick up the shower gel and get on with my wash so that I can get to the hospital and be with her.
**
SAM
The days pass, or so I'm told; I can't tell anymore. Dr Murphy came to see me two days ago. Finally after a week of having that thing stuck in my throat he agreed to remove it. It was so uncomfortable. They gave me a local anaesthetic, but something sociological let me imagine what it would feel like. Jack stayed at my side the entire time, and bless him he turned a little green at the sight, and had a renewed determination after that to keep his eyes locked on my face, or hands.
After having the dressing changed, as the wound bleed slightly, I was left alone, with no more machines sticking out of me. The more time that passed, the more I could do. Three weeks since the operation, and I am finally off my back and in a chair. Cassey loved it when she came to visit me, found a cute guy down the hall to have a race with.
But no matter how much time passed, I was determined that there was something I had to ask Jack about. The first day after the operation, he came in to see me, and he looked as though he hadn't slept at all. Not only that but he had a cut on his hand, held together by butterfly stitches. I want to know what happened.
He reads to me everyday, and today is no different. I don't hear the words, just his voice. It's like a lullaby. Monday comes and I am sitting in my chair next to the window. It's the end of November, and there is a thick frost covering the hospital grounds as the weak midday sun tries its best to cut through and melt it, before the night takes hold again. I am startled by Janet's voice at the door, bringing me back to reality.
"Guess what? You can go home!" she smiles.
"Finally! No offence Doc, but I'm sick of the sight of this place." Jack says, closing the book and giving me a wink. I smile, and turn my chair around to face them both. I have my arms under control mostly. Sometimes I get numbness in my fingers, but I have been determined to get them working again, and that's just what I have done.
"None taken, I have several nurses seeking therapy after being exposed to you for more than five minutes a day. And you're not even the patient. I don't know how you put up with him Sam!" I smile and shake my head, sometimes I wonder too. Then I remember I know exactly why I put up with him; for starters he is gorgeous, loyal, dedicated, loveable.I could go on.
"Hey!" he fakes a hurt look.
"Ok, let's not start a lover's tiff, not if you want to get home before Christmas." I had forgotten about Christmas.
"Now there are a few ground rules."
"Of course"
"For starters, I am coming to see you twice a week, to check that dressing and your blood pressure and, well you know the drill. You still have to take the tablets for the anaemia, and the pain killers when you need them, plus I want you to finish the antibiotics we put you on."
"We can do that, right babe?" I nod.
"Also, Charlotte is gonna make home visits from now on. Jack, you've set up the equipment, right?" he nods. "Good. She will show you exercises you can do on your own, but for the first week or so, if you could supervise Jack. Maybe you could join in, loosen that knee up a bit." He flinches slightly at the mention of his notoriously bad knee. Charlotte is the physiotherapist who has been working with me for the last week or so. She showed me what I had to do to get my arms back in action, and we are moving on to walking once I have down the ground work.
"Your speech therapy starts next week, but you will come here for that. There's no reason you can't start at home, but take it slow. I know you Sam, but you need to be patient, or you could do more damage."
Clearing his throat, Jack eagerly asks if there is anything else we should know. With the shake of her head he rubs his hands together and hopes down off the bed. Janet leaves us alone, going to get my discharge forms.
"I've moved everything I think you'll need into my place. When you're better we will go to yours and pick up the rest of your stuff." He says with a satisfied smile. I return the favour.
20 minutes later I am on my way home, jacks house. From now on, that is my home. Feels kinda weird, but in a good way. I always imaged myself living with him. Getting up in the morning, wearing his shirt, and he would come and place his arms around me, trying to kiss me as I clean my teeth. We would have a play fight and it would end with me lying in his arms, breathing in the unmistakable smell of his cologne. A tinge of sadness hits me as I realise things can't be like that, at least not at the moment.
We pull into the drive, and he jumps out to open the door, then comes back and carries me into the house, placing me on the sofa before putting the kettle on and going back to the truck to get my things in. I look around the room. It's so different to the last time I saw it. For starters any steps now either have ramps or lifts, the tables have been replaced by lower ones, and there are handles dotted here and there. He sits down on the sofa next to me, handing me a cup of tea.
"Must be good to have some real tea at least?" he says, placing a hand on my knee and squeezing gently, taking a sip of his own drink, which from the smell is probably coffee. I watch him intensely. How could he do this, just give up his whole life, turn his world and he's house upside down, for me? Why? I know why, but it still amazes me. He is so strong, and brave. I don't know if I could do this, if it was the other way round? The emotion he feels for me, and what I feel for him.it scares me sometimes, it's that fierce.
"Looks strange don't it? Don't worry, coz I'm here every step of the way, and when your better this can all go away, and we will make this place ours. Or if maybe we can find somewhere else, together, a house that really is ours." He brushes the hair from my eyes.
I would sell my soul just to be able to tell him I love him right now. I lay my head on his shoulder and pull myself closer to him. He wraps his arms around me and we just sit, basking in each others warmth until the sun sets and the room is plunged into darkness. I fall asleep in his arms for the first time in what feels like a century.
TBC
Not much more to go now. One, maybe two more chapters I reckon, depends how long I make them and whether I get hit by something that just has to go in there. P.S. Sorry for any typo's, I am not using my normal computer and its taking me a while to get used to this keyboard.