Absolution (38 page)

“Ally, wait!”

And then she was finally moving – away from Callum’s words, away from Jack’s haunted expression, away from everything.

“
Courage is being scared to death… and saddling up anyway.
”

- John Wayne

Jack couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. Staring at the ceiling for the past couple of days had just added to the sense of helplessness. He felt surgically removed from the world.

Again.

While he lay in there, flat on his back, Ally was somewhere out there, refusing to take his calls and ignoring his voicemail messages.

Packing his few possessions into the bag Callum had brought in for him, he again thought about what he would say to her when she could finally bring herself to talk to him – if she ever would. Where would he begin? He zipped the bag shut, staring blankly at the linoleum.

“You ready?” Callum walked towards him, reaching out for the bag.

“Yeah.”

He let Callum carry his bag as the orderly arrived with the wheelchair to deliver him safely to the front door of the hospital. The orderly chattered happily as he pushed him towards the reception area, and all he could think about was how it felt to be sitting in a wheelchair, having someone else in control. The ache in his heart magnified.

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he carefully eased himself into the car and they finally pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Callum’s house. Callum drove in silence, for which he was grateful. His head pounded but he was reluctant to take any medication. Anything that dulled his senses felt like cheating. He deserved this. He had deserved it from day one. It was time to pay the piper.

“Have you heard from her?” he asked, his eyes firmly on the road, sunglasses shading them from the harsh light that aggravated his near-constant headache.

“No.”

His heart sank and he sighed so deeply it felt as if his centre of gravity had fallen. Something akin to altitude sickness settled into his bones. If she wouldn’t talk to him, how was he going to explain? Assuming, of course, that he miraculously found the right words.

“Did you call her again?” Callum asked.

“She won’t take my calls.”

And why should she? He had lied to her.

“Do you need anything from your Dad’s place?” Callum asked, as they turned onto the main road back into town.

He shook his head sullenly. What he needed most was Ally. The rest of it was just dust in the wind.

“Doc said you need to take it easy – no texting, no games and no reading for at least the next few weeks. Are we gonna have any problems with that?”

“I’ll cope.”

He stared out the window. He hated the idea of the restrictions more than the restrictions themselves. Honestly, any form of visually stimulating exercise seemed to increase his headache so he wasn’t going to waste his breath arguing about it.

“I’ve tried calling her too. She won’t pick up.”

Jack glanced over as Callum spoke. Even though his attention was on the road, his body language belied his anxiety. His knuckles glowed white where he hung onto the steering wheel, his jaw locked tight as he stared straight ahead.

“I know Maggie’s with her, so she’s okay, but I really wish she wasn’t so damn stubborn.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Jack mumbled. “I wanted to tell her the truth, but not like this.”

“It was my call not to tell her. I screwed up, too. She’s bound to be pissed off but I wish she’d just let us explain. I mean, you weren’t exactly yourself the other day.”

Jack stared at the road ahead. The cold, hard truth was he hadn’t been ‘himself’ for four years. The closest he had felt to his old self had been these past few weeks, when he was with Ally. Despite all the changes, when he was with her he felt like anything was possible again. It was a bittersweet realisation, given that he may have now lost that feeling – forever, this time.

“Maggie’s pissed at me, too. So is Jane – feels like everyone’s pissed at me right now.”

“Welcome to my world.”

Callum glanced at him sharply but Jack ignored him, too exhausted to bother modifying his behaviour or apologising for it. They drove the rest of the journey in silence.

By the time they got back to Callum’s house, Jack was nearly asleep. The simple act of getting out of the car required a major commitment on his part, and he struggled to keep his eyes open behind his dark sunglasses. His head pounded and his body ached and he couldn’t be bothered fighting either anymore. Callum grabbed his bag from the back seat and carried it inside and again Jack let him, too tired to argue.

As he sank down onto the bed in Callum’s guest bedroom, all he could think about was closing his eyes and shutting out the world. Blissfully, Callum understood and left him to it. The last thoughts that floated through his addled brain before he drifted off to sleep were restless ones.

When he awoke a couple of hours later, darkness had descended. He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the house around him. He could hear Callum in the kitchen, and the faint aroma of cooking food made his stomach rumble. The TV was on in the living room, turned down low. He wondered what Ally was doing, right this minute. He wondered if she would ever speak to him again.

He fidgeted, his ribs aching as he tried to get comfortable. Gingerly, he eased over to one side and pushed himself upwards, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He dragged a hand down his face, a shallow sigh easing out of him. His body wanted to slouch from exhaustion, but his ribs hurt less when he sat up straight.

The smells emanating from the kitchen finally overcame him. He made his way to the bathroom, his full bladder demanding release. As he washed his hands afterwards, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and stopped, mid-soap.

He was a wreck. His eyes were hollow and one was bright purple with bruising that was only just beginning to fade. The gash on his scalp stung and another on his forehead was held together with a thin strip of tape. 

There was no doubt though, that the largest wounds were ones that couldn’t be seen. His soul seemed to physically ache and he could almost feel it withering inside of him again. This time though, it was worse than the night he left town four years earlier.

He tried to push the thought out of his mind as he finished washing his hands and made his way out to the kitchen.

Callum glanced up as he appeared in the doorway. He was in the process of unloading the best pasta Jack had ever seen, out of the oven. His stomach growled again as he watched, his mouth almost literally watering at the sight of it.

“Good, you’re awake – dinner’s ready.” Callum indicated the meal with a flourish. He began to spoon the pasta onto plates as Jack collected a couple of forks from the drawer beside him. His mouth was literally watering now, as if he hadn’t eaten for weeks. Hospital food was disgusting.

They headed into the living room and Jack carefully lowered himself onto the couch, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in his ribs.

“Do you need the painkillers?” Callum asked, setting his plate down on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Nope,” he lied, sitting up straighter than he would have ordinarily. “Don’t fuss. I’ll grab them if I need them.”

Callum shot him a wary glance before grabbing his plate off the coffee table and sinking gratefully into the waiting armchair. Jack was envious at the freedom of movement he currently lacked.

“Sorry,” Callum said, through a mouthful of pasta. “Didn’t mean to hover.”

Jack shook his head slightly, not daring to risk anything more for fear of aggravating his headache. “No, I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

Callum shrugged, still chewing. “It’s fine. I do fuss, Ally tells me that all the time.”

Just the mention of her name set Jack’s teeth on edge.

“Eat up, it’s getting cold,” Callum gestured to the food half-heartedly.

Jack obeyed, his heart not really in it anymore. His hunger pangs had turned into pangs of another kind, and the hunger mysteriously disappeared. He made himself go through the motions anyway, eager for some semblance of normality. They settled into a quiet, contemplative mood, with the TV making the lack of conversation less obvious.

It wasn’t long before the hum of the TV started to annoy him however, and he reached for the remote, turning it down slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Do you mind?”

Callum shrugged. Jack tried to get more comfortable. He longed for the simple things, like lounging on the couch. Slowly feeling himself drawn towards the self-pity that had hounded him recently, he desperately tried to snap out of it. Lounging on the couch was hardly a necessity. He was sure Ally would agree with that. She had to put up with far more in the way of inconveniences than he would ever be able to imagine, and she wasn’t complaining about it.

He remembered watching her get out of the pool – smooth, strong, decisive – the same way she tackled everything else. She had more grace in her little finger than he had in his entire body. Far from making him feel better, the realisation just made him feel unworthy. Suddenly, dinner felt like lead in his stomach and he put the plate down on the couch next to him.

“Dude. It’s gonna be a long night if you’re just gonna sit there staring at the TV like that,” Callum said.

Jack rubbed his eyes, not having the energy for evasive manoeuvres. Honesty came easily when there was nothing left to hide.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “She won’t talk to me, won’t let me explain myself, and it’s my fault – I should have told her earlier. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“She just needs some time.”

Time. That was how they had ended up here in the first place. Time didn’t always heal. Sometimes it wounded.  

Jack stared at the coffee table in front of him. “I just can’t help feeling that I’ve run out of second chances, y’know? And if that isn’t bad enough, I’ve dragged you into this and now she’s not talking to you either.”

“You haven’t dragged me into anything,” Callum frowned. “I could’ve told her what really happened, but I didn’t. I screwed up too. You don’t have the monopoly on mistakes, y’know. We just need to give her time to work through this, then when she’s ready to talk about it, we’ll talk about it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because that’s how it works. You don’t think this is the first time I’ve been in the doghouse do you?” Callum smirked half-heartedly. “You should know me better than that.”

Jack eased himself back into the couch with a grimace. “You’re not the one who dragged her out of the car that night – I am.”

“You’re right. I’m just the one who kept it from her.”

They eyeballed each other over the coffee table.

“I stand by what I’ve always said – it wasn’t your fault. You’re taking this all on your shoulders and you’re making some wild assumptions based on what
might
have happened,” Callum insisted. “I understand that you feel some sort of guilt over that – honestly dude, I really do. But taking into account the fact that the car was leaking gas and the very real possibility that it may have exploded into a fireball with her inside it, I would have done exactly what you did. You had no choice. When in the hell are you gonna let yourself off the hook for that?”

Callum’s words hit him square in the gut and sucked the air right out of his lungs. Hadn’t Ally said the same thing to him just recently?

“You were trying to save her life,” Callum said, leaning forward. “You did the right thing – the
only
thing.”

“I should’ve told her earlier.”

“Yeah, you should’ve. But what’s done is done – you can’t live in the past. You’ve gotta do what’s right for her, and you, right now. Leave all that shit back there, where it belongs.” Callum’s even gaze penetrated through the haze of confusion and self-pity that Jack found himself swimming in. “The only way she’s gonna get past this is if you do, simple as that.”

Jack took a deep breath, allowing the words to sink in. It made sense. Connections burst into life like a mini fireworks displays inside his head. Before Jimmy turned up, they were getting on fine and it was because he had pushed all the negative, self-pitying guilt to the back of his mind.