Chapter Five

Macca was shouting at Jack to go wide and receive the pass but Jack had no intention of even attempting to make position. Instead he doubled over and gasped for breath, trying to release air into his burning lungs and ease this agony.

"Mate, you were on for the try," Macca shouted, running up to meet him. "Last play of the game – we were there."

"I'm buggered," was all Jack could manage. Slowly he rose to a standing position. "How the hell do you do this every week?"

"Construction work. Keeps you in shape."

"I didn't realise I was out of shape."

"Coppers, they're lazy bastards. Fat too, most of them."

"I wouldn't say I'm fat," Jack said and glanced down at his belly. I mean I'll admit I haven't exactly got a six pack but I don't have a pot either."

"Lazy, fat and vain," Macca grinned. "C'mon, let's hit the showers before we head to the pub."

888

Roo sat by her daughter's bedside and stroked the chestnut hair away from the pale face. Tomorrow – if it was a fine day – she'd ask the nurse for a wheelchair and take Martha out onto the balcony and try and get some sun on her. She proposed this plan to Alf who was in the arm chair opposite. He grunted in agreement before they both lapsed back into silence. It was finally broken by a quiet statement, spoken in a matter of fact fashion.

"Do you know Dad, I'm probably the voice Martha least recognises," Roo said.

"What do you mean?"

"Before her accident, Martha visited me for two weeks. We spoke occasionally on the phone but that was it. This is the longest amount of time I've ever spent with my daughter. Now she's in a coma. What does that say about me as a mother?"

"There are a whole lot of reasons for that Roo."

"There's no excuses. I couldn't even make her wedding."

"To be fair, Martha didn't give you much notice."

"I still didn't come. I shouldn't even call myself her mother. The Mackenzies are her real family. And you. At least you've been there for her."

"Roo, don't play the blame game. It won't do anyone any good."

"It not a game, it's reality. Brett and I have been awful parents. Martha deserved so much better."

"Well you can make up for it when she wakes up."

"If she does, I've decided to move back from New York."

"Not if, when."

"Yes, when," Roo agreed, trying to muster up as much conviction as Alf always showed.

888

"You sure it's okay if I crash?"

"Yeah, no problems mate. You know you don't even have to stay in the hotel at all. You should stay with me as long as you're here. I've got the spare room after all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, no problems."

"Are you sure?"

"Look mate, I'm not offering to do your cooking and cleaning, just giving you somewhere to crash."

"Well okay, cool then."

Pushing open the front door, Macca switched on the light and Jack glanced around him. The mismatched St. Vinnies furniture, cheap paintings and peeling posters shouted out twenty-something flat yet for Jack it was strange. He'd lived like this once though – back in the bay when he'd shared with Kim. Then there'd been beers in the fridge and mess on the floor. They'd stay up late on weeknights drinking and watching some random cricket match on fox – broadcast from halfway across the globe. Or Martha would come round and they'd have sex in the afternoon. The perks of shift work. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed the unique pleasures of daytime sex. Now it was a twenty minute affair before bed, twice a week, as part of the routine. Back then Martha would pop her head in the screen door. "Jack, you home?" she'd shout.

Jack would appear grinning. "Yep," he'd reply.

"Kim home?" Martha would enquire.

"Nup," and he'd eagerly approach her, impatient to have his hands on what he wanted most.

Martha would giggle as he started to finger underneath her top. "Down boy," she'd say.

"Not possible I'm afraid," he'd reply and pick her up, where upon she'd wrap her legs around his waist and start feeling for his belt buckle. He'd groan at the pressure applied and press his tongue deeper into her mouth, feeling her respond in equal measure. Trying to find his way to the bedroom but unable to tear his mouth away from hers, he'd inevitably back her up against a wall or a door frame, and they'd continue in their desperate quest to satisfy each other. That was passion, mixed with lust, mixed with love, Jack thought, and realised he was becoming aroused by the memory. They were the best days; before the marriage. Why had he been in such a rush to change things, when he had everything he wanted without the burdens of a ring and a joint bank account?

888

"This is it."

Jack glanced around him. The doona was striped in differing shades of blue, the walls were painted cream and closed Venetian blinds hid the view. There was a desktop computer resting on a table in the far corner and beside it, a picture of Macca hugging Martha who was grinning into the camera. His view lingered on the picture as he wondered why the room would contain a picture of Martha and her brother. His eyes then roamed around and he began to recognise other familiar objects: a poster of Romeo and Juliet, her jewellery box on the dresser and a print of Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet sitting on a fence, which he had given to her for Christmas one year. If he turned it over he knew what would be written on the back:

Dearest Martha,

May we always be best friends,

Just like these two.

Jack

He turned to Macca. "This is Martha's room."

"Well, obviously."

"You never said your roommate was Martha."

"I thought you knew."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that?"

"Calm down mate. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? You expect me to sleep in Martha's room. She's in a coma."

"So? She wouldn't mind."

"For fuck's sake Macca. I'm not sleeping in her fucking bed. Jesus Christ."

Jack walked back into the living room, fuming. Macca followed him, bewildered and confused by the outburst.

"I really didn't know you'd have a problem. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well I do. Look I'm going to get going."

"Hang on, just calm down okay? I'm sorry about the room, but you don't have to go. You can sleep on the couch yeah?"

"I don't know."

"C'mon Jack. I was an idiot. I didn't realise using Martha's room would be weird for you, but it doesn't mean you have to go. We're mates, I've got a spare couch and those motels are depressing." Jack had to admit he didn't relish the thought of going back to The Sydney Motor Inn.

"Okay, thanks," he finally relented.

"Great. We're cool then?"

"Yeah. You just caught me off guard. I'm sorry."

"Forget it. I'll get you some bedding."

As Macca walked off, Jack sunk back down onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. Behind his closed lids all he could see was Martha's face, deathly still, on the hospital bed. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter, trying desperately to escape the image.