White Knight – Part II
Carla tripped lightly up the stairs, her feet barely touching each step as she went, until the reality of what she was about to face hit her and her steps faltered. Maybe it would be best, she mused, if she took Johnny up on his offer after all…
"Hiya, love," Johnny had greeted his daughter mere moments earlier as she had trudged towards the bar of the Rovers and slumped down over it, resting her cheek on her arms, flung down with abandon onto the smooth wood that had been polished until it gleamed. "Rough day?"
"Aren't they all?" she sighed, raising her head wearily to address her father. "Has he, umm…"
"Peter?"
"Who else?" Carla said with a roll of her eyes. "He promised he'd have his stuff packed and out of here before I finished work."
"I'm sorry, love, but unless he's went out the back door, he's still upstairs."
"Right." Carla's eyes dropped and her mind began to race; seeing Peter today was not something she had prepared herself for.
"Do you want me to go up, get rid of him?"
"No, it's my mess, I'll sort it out."
"This is not your fault," Johnny said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Remember that, yeah?"
"Yeah, I guess," she smiled weakly, patting his hand fondly before standing up and making her way through the bar and out back towards the private residence.
"If you need me…" he called after her.
"I'll give you a holler," she promised. "Don't worry, I'm a tough old bird, me."
…Carla stood, straddling two steps as she hesitated, undecided on whether she should call for her father's help or press on alone. Come on Carla, she admonished herself, you don't need daddy to deal with this. Decided now on her course of action, she bounded up the remaining stairs and made a beeline for her bedroom…
Her gaze remained trained on Peter's unconscious figure; she daren't take her eyes off him for a moment, so terrified was she that he would slip away from her again. He looked so peaceful as he slept, his chest rising and falling with reassuring regularity.
…The scream that had emitted from her mouth when she had caught sight of Peter seemed to Carla to come from another being entirely and not her, so otherworldly it had sounded to her ears.
"Peter!" she cried, falling to her knees beside his prostrate body, horrified at the paleness of his face, the blue tinge to his lips, and the trail of rapidly drying vomit that had erupted from his mouth. "What have you done?" she gasped, swooping onto the empty morphine bottle, the deadly realisation of his condition now fully dawning on her. "You stupid idiot! What have you done?"
She dropped her head to his chest, desperate to feel the beat of his heart, the filling of his lungs, the warmth of his body. Anything would do, any sign of life, of hope.
"Peter," she sobbed. "Stay with me, baby, hold on."
It seemed an age to her before she heard the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs, an age where all she could do was pray to a god she did not believe in to have mercy on her and not take Peter away from her…
"Hhmmmeurghhhh…"
The sound of Peter's pathetically weak groan broke the lingering silence of Carla's enduring watch over the convalescent.
"Peter?" she called to him softly from the armchair in the corner of the room, a spot that she had refused to vacate, not until she was sure Peter was past the worst. Even though he had been discharged from hospital, she wanted to be certain he was safe and not in danger of relapse. Until then, she would not leave his side.
"Uggghhhh…" he moaned again, forcing his eyes open amidst a flutter of eyelids and, focusing his gaze on the direction of her voice, called for her. "Car– cough cough–"
Carla rose from the armchair as Peter descended into a fit of coughing and, taking the glass of water from the bedside table and supporting his head with one hand, held the glass to his lips with the other, tilting it up and helping him to swallow some down.
"Ta," he spluttered gratefully as she gently laid his head back down onto the pillow. With her act of mercy now complete, she rose to move away from him, but he grabbed onto her hand, desperate to extend their physical contact as long as he could. Resolutely, she pulled her hand away from him and padded back to the armchair, sinking down into the soft cushions and returning his earnest gaze with the most composed look she could muster.
"Thanks for letting me come back here," he croaked.
"I'm not completely heartless, you know."
"You're the opposite of heartless."
"Me letting you recover here–"
"At home."
"It doesn't change anything between us."
"It should."
"Being terrified you'll do something stupid like snack on a handful of morphine pills is not a good enough reason to stay in a relationship that's not working."
"No, it's not," he conceded. "But love is a good reason, the best in fact. And you love me, you can't deny it."
"I'm not denying it," Carla freely admitted. "I do love you. I will always love you, Peter. But I don't trust you."
…Carla shrank back against the internal walls of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital, watching on as the paramedics worked on Peter, the fear of losing him almost too much for her to bear.
Still unconscious, he lay there on the gurney, helpless, not moving, not even a twitch when the paramedics jammed a syringe full of a mystery fluid into his thigh.
"He's stopped breathing."
"Oh god!" Carla gasped in horror as a bag valve mask was fitted over Peter's face, the paramedic squeezing the bag with a steady rhythm, filling his lungs with air, keeping him alive. For now…
"You know it's always there, don't you," Carla said. "That memory."
"The memory of what?"
"What you did with Tina," she sighed. "Don't think I haven't forgiven you, because I have, but still, I can't completely exorcise that tiny niggling thought in the back of my mind. It's not there all the time, but sometimes, when you do certain things, when I see the old you…"
"Tell me, when. Please, Carla, I want to know. I want to stop."
"Last year when you were fixing up your boat. When you tried to kiss me right after crawling out of Abi's bed. And these last few weeks when you've put her needs above mine. Even though you knew I was worried."
"I thought I was doing the right thing."
"For who? Not for me, and not for us, that's for sure. And the sad thing about it, Peter, is that it wasn't the right thing for Abi either. You know full well why AA and NA and all those programs, they all advise against having a sponsor of the opposite sex. Because they know these things can happen. You know these things can happen. But still you thought you were the only person that could help her. And now she's worse off than she was before. As for you and me, well, we know how that turned out."
"It doesn't have to be this way. I promise, Carla, it won't happen again."
"Until next time."
"There won't be a next time."
"There's always a next time, Peter, because you can't help yourself. And I can't live my life knowing that every couple of years you're gonna go off with someone else and I have to just, what? Accept that if I want to be with you, I have to put up with you straying? I don't accept it, Peter, I won't."
"I swear this is the last time."
"You don't understand, Peter, my heart can't take it. Not again. I'm not strong enough."
"Please, Carla, your heart is safe with me. Please."
…Carla stared through the glass screen of Peter's hospital room, watching him as he slept. He was peaceful now. The doctor had told her that he was through the worst of it, that he would be just fine. But she needed to make sure, needed to see for herself the light come back into his eyes.
And so she watched and she waited.
Until eventually he moved; just one finger at first, then all five extended outwards from his hand, and his head pressed deeper into the pillow as he stretched out his neck.
"Peter," she whispered, silently cheering him on, willing him to wake up fully.
She couldn't stop the smile that instinctively spread across her face when she saw his eyes open wide. She gazed at him as he lay there and stared up at the ceiling and then, as he turned his head, achingly slowly he turned it, and saw that she was there with him, his lips twitched upwards into a weak smile.
For a moment their eyes locked and they communicated without the need for words, just a deep knowledge of the secrets that lay behind each other's eyes. Until Carla cut him off, and she turned her face away and left him there alone…
"I should get back to the factory," Carla said abruptly, rising to her feet. "I've got a meeting to prepare for."
"No, don't go."
"Peter, I–"
"Come here," he whispered, an urgent edge to his voice.
"What? I don't…"
"Come in here with me," he continued to urge her, lifting up the duvet invitingly. "Quickly now, before all the warmth escapes."
"Peter, I'm happy you're okay and all, but…" Carla faltered, looking at him, his eyes pleading with her, begging her for one last moment of contact. "Just for a minute. And don't get any funny ideas."
"Scouts honour," Peter promised her, a cheeky grin on his face.
After kicking off her shoes, Carla crawled into the bed next to Peter. He draped the duvet over her shoulders and then ran his fingers softly over the curves of her face. She didn't resist his touch, she couldn't. As much as she hated herself for her weakness, she wanted to be close to him, to touch him, to feel the warmth of his body next to hers.
"This is nice," he whispered, stroking her hair gently.
"Mmm…" she murmured, closing her eyes as she relished the feeling of his fingers raking through her hair, pausing every now and then to softly massage her scalp.
"What if I promise," he began hesitantly. "Hand on heart, to just, I dunno, keep out of other people's business."
"Peter, I don't want you to stop caring or stop trying to help people."
"Really? But I thought…"
"I love that you care so much," she said, reaching out and caressing his cheek fondly. "Maybe, I dunno, if you understood why you were doing it. Or why you were doing it your way."
"Are you saying my way is the wrong way?"
"No," she hesitated, careful not to wound his pride. "I'm saying sometimes the right thing is to find someone else who's better equipped to deal with the situation."
"And walk away?"
"Knowing you've done the right thing for everyone."
"Yeah, but that way is not as good for my ego as my way."
"Oh, look," Carla grinned. "Peter's having a moment of self-awareness."
"See, I am capable of growth." He poked her affectionately in the arm. "You gotta give me that."
"Hmm… I guess so. And I know your heart's in the right place."
"It is," he said, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, running his finger along her jawline. "It's with you. Even if you cast me adrift, refuse to ever see me again, my heart will always be with you."
"Stop it," Carla muttered, dropping her gaze, avoiding his eyes.
"I won't stop it, because I'm speaking the truth. What about you? Hmm?" he asked, nuzzling his face into her neck, kissing her softly. "Where's your heart?"
"Don't," she protested in vain.
"Tell me," he pressed on, hooking his finger underneath her chin and gently forcing her face upwards to look directly at him.
"You know where it is," she said. "You knew that when you chose her–"
"How many times, I was stupid, I made a mistake. Please, please don't condemn me for my stupidity," he begged her. "At least don't make your mind up now. Give me a chance to prove myself to you. Prove to you that your heart is safe with me."
Carla looked into his eyes. She knew he meant what he said, he always meant what he said, even if sometimes he couldn't follow through. Was it enough? She didn't know. Putting all of the questions that were racing around her mind firmly to one side, she leaned in close to him and kissed him, pressing her lips softly against his.
"We'll see, ey?"