Chapter Four

Edging Closer

John hasn't been in much lately, unless I've been asleep when he's called. That would make me feel guilty if he has… pouring his heart out to someone who won't listen! I think I had the accident at the worst time for him. He's so busy with his work.

Scott's been in a lot more instead. Maybe it's his over-protective big-brother thing kicking in, just in case Dr Grey says something again. Dad's been home and had a nice break, and I'm glad. It wasn't a nice feeling, knowing he was putting himself through all that trauma just for me.

The urge for proper food gets more and more intense every day. I find myself dreaming about eating a donut or sitting down at the table just before dinner. Asking for seconds, dessert…

"…The End." The book snaps shut and Scott sighs. To be honest, it's not my favorite read. I can't even remember what it's called. I tuned out towards the middle, when things started to get extra boring. It's not a long book. John read it to me once, but it never appealed to me.

"Listen, Gordo…" Scott leans forward, "About what your doctor said the other day – "

Jeez, here we go. I get it. Don't listen to him.

"Don't listen to him. Get it? He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Yeah, right. That's why he's a doctor. That's why he's fully qualified to take care of patients like me and give accurate diagnosis.

"And I know he's a doctor, he's qualified etcetera." Sometimes I swear Scott can read my mind. I experience one of those moments when he shocks me by replying to my thoughts. "Well guess what? I've known you for longer than he has – way longer. And I know you'll give up at nothing to get yourself on your feet again. Right?"

Right, Scott.

Scott laughs. "I just got this mental image of you rolling your eyes and saying 'Right, Scott,' just like you always do. Ah, man… why don't you wake up and do that for me?"

Scott's always had this weird ability to read us like books. I guess he's the most experienced out of all of us, having four younger brothers. Sometimes it's a good thing.

"But seriously, bro, I have 100 faith that you'll wake up and prove him wrong. He had no right to say that, especially right in front of you. I don't know if you even heard it or not, or registered it, and if not… then I'm glad. I'm not going to repeat it. He made me so angry… I probably would have hit him if Dad hadn't been there. I was probably overreacting. He only said it once. But I'm not used to you like this, Gordy…"

His voice cracks, and I feel my heart break. Hearing someone is upset is one thing; being the cause of the upset and not being able to do anything about it takes it to a whole new level. Scott's like Grandma – he's strong. He rarely cries, or shows weakness. I guess since Mom died, he

feels a kind of parental responsibility. I don't make a show of it, but I have an awful lot of respect for big brother.

He's openly sobbing, his head resting near my stomach. He's shaking, too.

What's wrong with me? Even one of my brothers, crying, won't wake me up. Am I that self-centered? Not even the burning desire to reach out and comfort Scott, for once in my life, will wake me up.

Scott swears a lot in the next sentence, but I won't repeat it. He hardly ever swears, and I can tell he's really distressed.

"…God's sake, Gordo, wake up, will you? You don't know what you're doing to us. Dad can't take another death – I don't think any of us could. Why don't you snap out of it – right now – and wake up?"

Silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart monitor on my left.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

The air machine that's breathing for me.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The damned clock that won't leave me alone.

But nothing's changed. Not my heart rate, not time – not anything. Scott's crying, and I won't wake up for him. He's been staring at me for the last few seconds, and he lets go and collapses back into his original position, still trembling. He touches my hand, like Virgil did.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to shout. It's just…" His voice is all shaky. He doesn't need to finish; I understand. I feel exactly the same way. "It's just we… well, you're one of us, and we couldn't bear to lose you. Hell, I'll even let you get away with as many pranks as you like when you're awake."

Really? That's a new one. I noticed the 'when,' instead of the 'if.' He didn't even hesitate before he said it. Maybe he really does have 100 faith in me.

A great idea for a joke just occurs to me. Shame I can't carry it out, though… I was thinking of opening my eyes and saying 'Really? In that case, I might just reconsider…"

I'm beginning to miss John. I haven't heard from him properly in ages. Dad and the others pass on messages, like 'John says he's sorry he hasn't been in a while. He's really behind on the workload.'

But for days on end?

Maybe it's me being self-centered again. John's allowed to spend some time away, get some fresh air. I should stop thinking about myself all the time – that's what Dad always used to say when I was a kid. He hardly says it any more.

Whether I finally did, or he just gave up, I don't know.

It's funny how many things you notice when you've got so much spare time. Little things. Like the food trolley that passes by the door six times a day, taking various items to and from the cafeteria.

In every twenty-four hours, the clock goes a little bit more out of sync with Dad's watch. In the silence that stretches out while he's here, I can make out the tiny ticks from his wristwatch.

There are two annoying birds near my window. They do this call-and-answer thing every now and again. It's OK, but after a while it really gets on my nerves. I can hear them, even though the window's shut.

"Hey, little buddy!"

It's John!

Speak of the devil! He sounds puffed out, as if he was in a hurry to get here. He hasn't called me 'little buddy' in ages, not since I was ten or so. It's probably because now Alan's grown taller than me, I'm the shortest in the family.

Or maybe he just wanted to remind himself and me of what life was like when I was awake.

John sits down and makes himself at home. I hear him pouring himself a glass of water from the jug that Lucy sometimes leaves.

"First of all: I'm so sorry I haven't been to visit in ages. I've been so busy with everything, and most of my work involves using my telescope. You've got a useless view out of this window, so I couldn't use it here!

"It's four weeks today since your accident."

He pauses and leans closer, "I think that's enough sleep for now, don't you?"

There's silence for a few seconds, but again, nothing happens. John continues as if nothing's happened. "I have another quote for you, just in case you've been thinking up comebacks while

I've been away." He doesn't have a book this time, and he starts quoting from the top of his head. This one's even longer than the last one, and I've never even heard most of the words in my life before. I don't understand a word of what he just said, but then again, who does? At least he's acting normal.

"Scott told me what the doctor said the other day."

Oh God, here we go again.

"I'm not going to go on about it, I'll just say that I completely agree with Scott. Whatever Scott said to you, he's right."

John has a habit of often contradicting our expectations. He never quite goes with the flow, and constantly surprises us with the way he reacts and thinks about different situations.

He's also a man of few words.

I can tell he's tired today. Apparently he's been really busy with workload recently. Coming to see me must be a big break. In fact, I'm grateful that he chose to spend it with me.

The door opens quickly and someone enters. They stop abruptly at the sight before them. "John! Hey, son, it's good to see you." It's Dad. He walks over to the bedside and they share a brief hug before Dad sits at the bottom of the bed, next to my right foot.

"Hey, Dad. Thought I could take some time out to see Gordo here. Has there been any change?"

"No, not really. The doctors say that he's stable, the fractures are recovering – slowly – and right now it's just a case of waiting until his body decides it's ready to wake up."

John sighs. "It sounds crazy, but I was kind of hoping I'd get here to find him awake already."

"It's not crazy. All of us think that whenever we come here. You'll open your eyes in your own time, won't you, Gordon?"

"How're Scott and the others?"

"They're fine. A little tired and underfed, but other than that, they're doing OK. Alan's coping especially well. I'm surprised at him. He's grown up a lot." Now Dad's said that – I realize it's true. Alan's been so mature about the whole thing, and coping incredibly well. I'm suddenly so proud of my younger brother!

"That's good. Virgil and Scott?"

"Fine, fine. Virgil wrote a piece of music and got Scott to play it to Gordon. That's helped him a lot, I think. Scott – well, to begin with…" Dad trails off. I know what he was going to say.

"What?" John presses.

"…to begin with he was a bit…scared, but he's OK now." He was going to say that Scott felt guilty, but stopped because of me. He didn't want me to feel responsible for Scott's guilt.

It's funny how much you learn about human nature when people sit by your bedside and pour their heart out to you.

"Oh." Dad must have sent John a warning look, because John accepts this explanation and the conversation moves on.

"Actually, it's really good you're here, John, because we were all planning on coming in this evening. All of us, including Grandma. You think that'll make you feel more at home, Gordy?"

It probably would, yes. I'd like that, actually. I can't remember the last time we were all together. And it'll be nice for them to get some real company too.

The fish are bigger and brighter than ever. The light's a bit dimmer down here – maybe I'm a bit deeper than I was last time. Even so, the fish are more spectacular here. A group of blue- and green-striped clownfish swim past, and I start laughing.

Water enters my mouth as I open it, but it's not a problem. It's not even salty.

It's amazing. I've seen many incredible coral reefs in my lifetime of scuba-diving and exploring, but none come close to this. The hole's there too, but I don't want to go down there yet. I will do, but first I want to make the most of this.

The water's warm, not even a hint chilly. It's like bathing. Like the first time, I can breathe underwater without apparatus, and it feels great. When I was a kid I wanted to be a fish. I used to design these weird and wonderful creations on the inside covers of my textbooks at school.

There aresharks here, too. Friendly sharks that I hadn't noticed the first time round. They're swimming alongside the smaller fish, showing off their spectacular mouths and their teeth-covered skin.

I lounge around for a while, just watching. I wonder if the fish can see me, or register me. Either way, I'm not making much difference. I'm right in the middle of it; there's no gap around me.

Finally I stretch and notice the hole again. It's bigger than how I remember. Taking a last glance at the fish, I head off towards the inky blackness, not turning around. There's a strange attraction pulling me to it: something that I've only just noticed but has been there throughout.

Again, it looks dark and intimidating, but I push the thoughts away. I don't want to be put off again. It swells in size and seems about to engulf me, when a sudden flash of movement happens and there's someone blocking my path, shaking her head. A mermaid. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place it. She looks panicked, desperate to tell me something 

– and I notice that she's gesturing wildly upwards, as if she wants me to get away from the hole –

I open my mouth, but start to choke. Suddenly I've lost my ability to breathe underwater – what's happening?

There's something stuck in my throat, and I'm beginning to panic. Everything seems to fade and move further away as the thing in my throat swells and takes over my mind. I try to swim upwards towards the surface but I can't move, my legs and arms are locked to my side as if I'm in a straightjacket.

Someone grabs my shoulder and squeezes it, but I still can't see anything but darkness. The hole has filled my vision and I can't see anything – not the mermaid, nor the fish – not even the ocean. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it will all just go away…

As if from very far away, there's a voice. I strain to make out the words.

" – it's OK, calm down. Is he on his way?"

The sound seems to grow stronger and louder as I make sense of the words. I open my eyes a crack, and there's a blurry figure above me.

"Hang on in there, OK? Just try to breathe – Dr Grey's on his way."

Dr Grey? Since when has he been in this dream…?

The thought's left hanging as realization hits me. I'm awake! I must be – that blurry figure was Dad, I'm sure of it! The next few moments are an unclear mess of loud voices and blurry vision, for me, as people rush in from every corner of the hospital it seems to sort me out. The thing's moving in my throat, pulling – it must be a breathing tube, or something like that. I hadn't been aware of it before, but when my body started acting independently it made itself known.

There's darkness at the corner of my vision again. I'm suddenly so – tired?

" – back with us – "

" – heart rate's quite fast – "

" – be over in a few minutes – "

" – removing it now – "

" – losing consciousness again – "

The voices begin to fade once more as I slip into the blackness and give in to the overwhelming sense of exhaustion. I've never been so drained in my life.