Chapter Four

"Interest rates have risen," Macca commented, scanning the headlines. "Apparently it's likely to be an election issue." He looked up from the paper and glanced at Martha who offered no response. Instead she lay as she always did; her pixie cut framing her cheekbones and her long lashes hiding eyes that gave away nothing. "Mmmm, probably not the sort of news that'd wake anyone up from a coma," Macca accepted and went back to the front page. "Let's see if I can find something more interesting."

As Sally watched him search the morning's Herald for a piece likely to interest his sister she sipped her latte comfortably and thought about the man who now sat opposite her. In the initial stages of Martha's coma it had been a real struggle for Sally to be around Macca. She knew Martha had forgiven him and that they were very close in the city but she could not move past what he had done to Cassie. Every time she saw his face she saw Cassie's bruises. However as Martha's coma stretched on they were both forced to spend more time together and she began to see a side to Macca she had never known existed. She learnt that everyday, without fail, Macca would visit his sister and when she herself was down on weekends, she would often walk in on him combing his sister's hair or singing her tunes on his guitar. He was also generous, she discovered – always vacating his seat whenever another visitor came in and offering to get them a coffee whereupon he refused to take money for it. His easy manner was well suited to the delicacy of the situation as he often helped to defuse tense moments when someone was on the brink of not coping. In some ways she began to realise why Cassie had given him a second chance and actually regretted that there was another side to him. Without that one, determining flaw, he was a good man whom Cassie could have loved. She only hoped that the counselling he had received the second time around had actually worked and he would never make the same mistake again. For what it was worth Martha insisted that he wouldn't. As Sally mulled this over she was brought back into the present when the object of her thoughts stopped reading from the paper and addressed a new presence in the room.

"Hey mate."

"Hi," Jack replied and felt awkward as all attention was directed towards him.

"Jack," Sally said cheerfully, "How did you enjoy the dinner last night?"

"It was nice," Jack said lightly and moved towards the bed.

"It wasn't too much for you?"

"Of course not."

"That's good," and Sally rose from the chair. "As much as I don't mean to be rude, I've actually got to be off. I'm heading back to the bay this morning."

"Oh? When will you be back?"

"Not 'til the weekend after next unfortunately. I do hope you'll still be here Jack?"

Jack hadn't thought that far ahead. He barely knew what he was doing for the rest of today, let alone two weeks from now.

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Of course, no need to plan everything yet," Sally said quickly. "Anyway, whatever you decide, it's been lovely to see you again." As they said their goodbyes and Sally exited the room, Jack took a seat in the now unoccupied chair beside Martha's bed. As he did so it struck him he hadn't addressed her or acknowledged her presence and he wondered what proper coma etiquette required. Were you meant to say hello when you arrived in the room, ask them questions as though they could respond? Instead he said nothing and glanced across at Macca, hoping he would take the lead. However Macca seemed more interested in dredging up last night again, much to Jack's annoyance.

"I am sorry about the dinner mate. I really didn't mean to suggest you weren't happy with Sam."

"Honestly Macca, just forget it. I didn't think you did. I was just over-tired after all the emotion of the day. Let's move on from it yeah?"

Macca studied Jack and noticed the tightening of the voice and the forced smile. "Sure," he replied and stood up to leave. "I actually have to be off too."

"Where?" Jack asked alarmed. He didn't want to be left alone with Martha, not knowing what to say or do.

"Work mate."
"Oh yeah, of course." Jack realised stupidly that these people did have lives outside Martha's hospital room. He however had no life in Sydney, nothing to distract him from why he was here. He just had her, and feeling her silent presence weigh on the room, he wondered how he would fill the gaps. He decided to ask Macca for advice. "What do you talk about – with Martha, I mean."

"Anything and everything. I read the paper this morning, sometimes I talk about my life, what's going on in it, sometimes I talk about the past. Sometimes I play my guitar."

"Your guitar?" Jack sounded interested.

"Yeah," Macca replied and motioned with his eyes to the corner of the room where Jack now noticed a guitar case propped up against the wall.

"It's here?"

"Sure is. Why, you thinking of playing?"

"Well, if you wouldn't mind. I mean, do you think Martha likes that?"
"Probably not," Macca laughed. "Not my playing at least. She certainly never hesitated to tell me how bad it was when she could speak. Still, I figure if she hates it that much, she might be forced to wake up and tell me to shut up."

Jack laughed. "So you wouldn't mind then. If I had a go?"
"Knock yourself out mate," and Macca prepared to leave. As he reached the door however he stopped and turned back to face Jack. "Hey mate I was thinking, I'm playing touch footy tonight; I do it every Monday. It's just a casual thing with a few mates. You wanna come along?" Jack thought about the offer and knew he had no choice but to accept. He certainly had no excuses lined up, no one to pretend to need to see or nowhere to pretend to need to be. And besides, touch footy may be fun. Once, a long time ago, he'd been quite good. "Yeah, why not?"
"Great, I'm going straight from work. We play at the Northside Oval, I'll text you the details later. Starts at six, and afterwards, we'll go for some beers. Always the best part," Macca grinned before finally exiting the room.

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Jack sat cradling the guitar in his lap and strummed a few random chords. He pondered over what to play – trying to think of what he knew well enough so it wouldn't be too embarrassing if any nurses decided to enter the room. He also thought back over what music Martha had listened to. She was always a rock girl which he had appreciated. But she also liked that folk pop stuff like Xavier Rudd and Pete Murray which he couldn't stand. There was no way he was playing that, even if he did know how, which he didn't. Actually, it didn't even really matter what Martha liked as Jack's repertoire was very limited. He had little time to play the guitar these days what with work and Rory. He discovered that kids became your life; whatever they wanted to do was what you wanted to do. So weekends were bike rides and surfing and he hadn't touched his guitar in over six months. It was a shame really, how as you headed towards thirty you seemed to lose your identity, become a person you had never intended on being. Finally Jack settled on one of the tunes he had learnt years ago and was one of his favourite songs since the first moment he heard it. He used to play it in the bay and he knew Martha liked it. It was also quite a nice song to play to someone in a coma he reasoned, for whom the sky was but a dream and whose body was eternally bound to a sterile hospital bed.

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"Ok, Martha," he spoke aloud nervously. "I'm going to play a song: Under the Milkyway by The Church. Um, I hope you like it." Hearing himself say all this into the silent room he suddenly felt utterly ridiculous – as though Martha was some audience or a judge and he was auditioning for Australian Idol. Actually, he wouldn't be too bad playing this song. "Anyway, here goes," he continued and then glanced around suspiciously, checking the door to make sure no one was about to make an unwelcome entrance.

Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty. He started cautiously; still worried a nurse would suddenly appear and start laughing. Sound of their breath fades with the light, he continued. I think about the loveless fascination. Under the Milky Way tonight. As his voice got stronger Jack started to enjoy himself and began to sing a little louder and strum a little harder. Lower the curtain down on Memphis. Lower the curtain down all right. I got no time for private consultation. Under the Milky Way tonight. He was now in his stride and confident in his ability, looked away from the security of the guitar and up at Martha before launching into the chorus; smiling both to himself and to her as he did so.

Wish I knew what you were looking for
Might have known what you would find
Wish I knew what you were looking for
Might have known what you would find