No Kiss Goodbye (18 page)

It hurts to open my eyes. Seeing light maximises the pounding of my skull. I run my hand over the back of my head. The swelling around the huge bump is subsiding. It feels like a small golf ball is hidden under my skin. Nicole is surprisingly strong for such a petite person. When she packs a punch, she goes all out.

I carefully analyse the familiar sights and smells that jumble before my eyes. I sink down deeply in the chair as I realise I’m in Doctor Hammond’s office. I’ve come to hate this room. Not only for the dreary décor, but also for the equally dreary questions that Doctor Hammond insists on asking repeatedly. It’s as if every time he asks, he’s hoping for a different, better answer. But my reply is always the same. I’m not the crazy one. Nicole is. That’s of course on the rare occasion that I choose to speak. Most of the time, I just sit in silence and stare out the window.

‘
Are you with me?’ Doctor Hammond asks growing increasingly weary of the silent treatment.

My response is nothing more than a deep sigh.

‘You gave us quite a scare running away like that,’ he says. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking that I want to see my children.’

‘I know you do.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong, so why am I being forced to stay here as a prisoner? If I am crazy, then it’s because being trapped here has driven me to it. It’s not fair.’

‘I agree.’

‘You do?’ I mumble.

‘Yes, I do. You’re right. It’s not fair and I want nothing more than for you to return home, so if you would just let us help you…’

I catch the delicate vase of flowers from the coffee table in front of me and squeeze it so tight I think it will snap in my hand. I recognise this speech. I know what he’s going to say next. He will fill me with elaborate lies and then sit back hoping I accept his tall tale. I will never believe him.

The vase in my hand finally shatters under the pressure and nicks the soft flesh of my palm. I drop the sharp pieces of porcelain to the floor and watch as several small beads of blood run down my fingers. Doctor Hammond immediately stands up to come to my aid. I pull my hand away. I snatch the tissue he offers and begin to dab the light bleed. He watches me for a few moments and then continues talking. He appears glad I’m distracted. I am not giving my full concentration to blocking out every word he says as I usually do.

‘Laura.
Are you listening,’ he asks.

‘Um-hm,’ I groan concentrating on my hand.

‘You have been living in your own imagination for the last few months. We have gradually been drawing you back to reality.’

I shrug. This is certainly a new approach. Next, he will be telling me we had lunch with the fairies and danced naked around the bonfire after.

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Do tell Fifi-Twinkle-Bell that I was asking for her. I love her new, purple wings. I wonder if I should get a pair like that before my next flying lesson.’

I can tell my sarcasm infuriates him. I shrug again.

‘You haven’t made it easy for us, Laura.’

What the fuck did he expect?

‘You haven’t made it easy for yourself,’ I growl. ‘I just want to be left alone. How is that too much to fucking ask.’

‘You are very stubborn, aren’t you?’

I shrug again and make a face this time.

‘But you really must accept what I am telling you. You need to move forward now. This must stop.’

I agree. For once, I actually agree with this man. This. Must. Stop!

‘Do you understand?’ Doctor Hammond asks.

My insides are turning to jelly. Something in his words forces the cogs in my brain to turn faster than they should. I don’t want to believe him, but the cogs are slowly piecing together what he’s saying and I am starting to see a pattern that makes sense. I take my medication like a good girl. I pass out. I can’t remember shit. Repeat. My stomach heaves and I throw up on his dull, grey carpet.

Oddly, he looks pleased. ‘It’s a lot to take in. I understand that.’

The taste of vomit burns my mouth. ‘May I have a drink, please?’

He leaves the room, leaving the door wide open behind him, and walks to the water cooler across the hall.

I begin to scan the room for signs of weakness. Any little hint that it was all an elaborate scam. A prescription, a box of pills, falsified medical notes. Something. Anything. Christ, Nicole is a genius. I’ll give her that. It all makes so much sense now. Killing me would be way too obvious. She’d never get away with it. Instead, she’s trying to convince the world that I’m crazy. Either she’s doing a bloody good job of it and Doctor Hammond believes her, or he’s in on the plan.

‘Can’t you see, Doctor Hammond? She hates me,’ I say as soon as he returns.

He hands me a glass of cool water. I don’t drink it. I can’t take the risk.

The doctor shakes his head disappointedly. ‘I had hoped today would be the day we finally made progress. Maybe it is too soon.’ He sighs.

‘I want a blood test,’ I say. ‘That will prove I am right.’

‘Blood test,’ he echoes.

‘Yeah.’ My eyes widen, irritated. ‘For one thing, it’ll show all the drugs in my system. Won’t it? If you won’t help me, then I’ll ask a doctor who will.’

‘I’m offering you my help, Laura. But you won’t accept it,’ Doctor Hammond says with genuine regret.

‘Please just give me the test, and then you’ll see. You’ll understand then,’ I promise.

I begin rolling up my sleeve and shoving my arm towards him.

He catches my hand and holds it gently in his.

‘Laura, we’ve already given you every test imaginable. You just forget.’

‘Stop saying that,’ I shout, pulling away from him. ‘Every time something doesn’t make any sense, people just tell me I’ve forgotten. There is nothing wrong with my memory. I know you’re all lying to me. It’s all part of the scam.’

I’m speaking so fast that my words are tangled, but it felt good to simply say my theory out loud. I am tugging on the cuff of his shirt, but he doesn’t bother to free himself from my grip.

‘Let’s get a few things straight, okay, Laura?’

I nod. I’m sceptical that he will say anything believable, but I’m curious to see what elaborate story he conjures up this time.

‘I am trying to help you. We all are. If I do a blood test, then all it will show is the sedative I have personally administered.’

My heart jumps in my chest. Finally, I hear something I actually believe. Doctor Hammond admits he’s a willing accomplice. Christ, can I trust no one?

A light knocking on the door as it creaks open distracts me. I can hear Mark’s voice. Why is he here? Has he come to join the witch hunt for my sanity? 

I straighten out my clothes and run my hands over my hair. I’m incredibly nervous. I almost begin to giggle. Doctor Hammond stands up and slowly turns to face Mark. The look of concentration that he wore for the duration of his conversation with me is imprinted heavily on his face. The smile Mark entered the room with quickly fades. The two men exchange a handshake before Doctor Hammond leaves the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

I grip the arms of the chair until my knuckles whiten and my eyes drop to the floor and onto the pieces of broken vase still scattered on the ground. The jagged porcelain is there if I need it. Oh my God. Oh my God.

‘Hi,’ Mark says softly. He reaches his hand out to hold mine. ‘How are you feeling?’

I want to slap his hand away. I wonder how often he has run those same broad palms over Nicole’s body. I shudder at the thought. But I don’t want to piss him off so I accept his touch and take his hand. I twitch and shake as his fingers slip between mine. His palm is hot and clammy. He doesn’t want to be here; it’s written all over his face.

‘I miss you,’ he whispers.

Fat, salty tears run down my face. Mark slides his finger under his nose and sniffles. I miss him, too. I ache to hold him or to feel him in bed beside me. But I wish more that I didn’t cry myself to sleep most nights, pining for the life we shared not so long ago. Nothing would ever be the same again. I so desperately want to reach out to him, but I don’t know how. Mark has always been so strong. A bright mind on strong shoulders. But right now, he’s a shell of the man I fell in love with. I could normally read Mark like a book, but the man before me is a stranger disguised by a familiar face.

‘I want to go home,’ I whisper. ‘Please, can we just go home?’

Mark shakes his head.

I close my eyes trying to accept the pain of his rejection.

~~~

I slowly opened them again to find myself sitting on a train rattling quickly along the dark tracks of the New York City subway.

‘Well, hello there!’ a bubbly, young African American woman sitting beside me says.

She is scrutinising me like a hawk, but she’s smiling. A huge, wide gummy smile that reveals plenty of missing teeth. The remaining few are as tarnished as dried tea leaves.

‘Excuse me,’ I say rubbing my sleeping eyes.

‘You don’t have to apologise to me, girl. You just sleepin’. The driver’s gonna be none too keen on you riding on his carriage all day, though.’

‘All day?’ my words rattle in my throat. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s nine thirty now, but you been on this same train since ten this morning.’

‘Nine thirty pm?’ I squeal, jumping stiffly up from the seat.

‘Yeah?’ she says looking at me as though I’ve just landed from another planet.

I shake my head in disbelief. Where has the whole day gone? Where has Ava gone? And most important of all, where the hell am I?

‘You’re new to this, aren’t ya?’ she says, still smiling. ‘You’re gonna have to learn to work the system better. You can’t stay on the same train all day. They’ll notice. You gotta move around. Anyways, the exercise is good for you.’

Tears swell in my eyes, and without warning, they begin to fall softly down my face.

‘Don’t cry, honey,’ she says. ‘Hell, I know it’s tough when you first start sleeping rough, but it does get easier. I had me a good day today. Found a perfectly good cheeseburger thrown in the trash. Only two small bites gone from the side. People throw away good stuff all the time, doncha know. You know where you’re sleeping tonight? I’m goin’ to the park; there’s a group of us there. You can come along if you like?’

‘I’m not homeless,’ I stammer.

‘You ain’t fooling anyone, girl,’ the woman replies snappishly. ‘Look, they’re a good bunch of people I hang out with. We take care of our own when things get hard. You gonna be very lonely on your own. You look like you need a friend.’

‘I have friends,’ I explain.

‘Yeah, yeah, I believe you. And your friends just let you be wandering around down here for the last two days all alone. With friends like that, girl, you don’t be needing no enemies.’

My hands fly to my face. How could I possibly have been down here for two whole days? Ava and I were just chatting a few moments ago.

‘Do you know where we are?’ I stutter beginning to accept the fact I’m completely lost.

‘You been drinking? Or taken somethin’? You don’t even know where you are. Next stop is Thirty-third Street. What does it matter anyway, all the streets look the same from down here.’

She’s right. In the artificial light, I could be anywhere.

‘How do I get to Macy’s from here?’

‘Why? You gonna to do a bit of shopping?’ She laughs loudly. She holds her hand up and rubs her thumb and fingers together without clicking them. ‘Don’t you need some of this stuff?’ she teases. I guess she’s symbolising money – or the lack of.

Her patronising is really starting to irritate me.

‘I know my way home from there...I think?’

The woman looks at me with real concern. I confuse her, I guess, but I really don’t care.

‘You bang your head or something? I think you need to see a doctor. You don’t seem right in there.’ She taps me on the temple.

I didn’t want to hear any more. She scares me. She scares me because a tiny part of me thinks she might be right. I slap my hands over my ears and shake my head from side to side. A sudden image of Doctor Hammond pops into my mind and I’m terrified. I looked around, paranoid that he’s coming for me. He’ll find me and drag me back to confinement. So many suppressed memories rush to the surface that I think my head will explode like a firework on the fourth of July. I remember the clinical, white walls of the hospital. The stillness of my isolation room. The torture of all the grilling questions. The psychological trap they have laid for me. I scream; I just open my mouth and let the pure frustration spill. I scream and scream and scream.

Everyone stares at me. Even people in the next carriage peer through the glass of the doors to catch a glimpse of my meltdown. A young mother sitting opposite cradles her son tightly in her arms turning his head into her chest and away from looking at me.

‘What’s wrong with the strange lady,’ he says and points.

‘I’m not strange,’ I roar. ‘I’m not crazy.’

I lunge through the doors as soon as the train stops, almost knocking several people over with my excessive forcefulness. I calmed quickly after my outburst, and now I’m drowning in mortification. I can feel the shocked eyes of every commuter burn through the hopelessly transparent shield with which I try to protect myself.

I have to go back to Nigel’s. Ava will be terribly worried. I can’t understand how we separated when I was so careful not to let her out of my sight.

I’m very proud of my navigational skills as I walk towards the exit at the final station just before Nigel’s house. It’s as if the journey was routine. I didn’t even have to think or stop to read the subway map. My legs just began walking in the right direction all by themselves. They automatically knew when to change trains and which train to catch. My fingers understood which route to select on the ticket machine. It’s all so incredibly familiar.

I can smell the fresh air battle to reach me, drawing me outside. A giant, relieved smile creeps across my face as I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with actual semi-fresh air. I’m just about to start ascending the steps when I notice a little boy wandering around behind me.
He’s lost
. I turn around to face him, and I recognise his gaunt face and grubby blond hair immediately. He’s the little homeless boy.

‘Where’s your mommy,’ I ask, imagining his poor mother would be blind with panic.

He hangs his head and doesn’t answer. I stretch my hand out to hold his, but he winces and jerks away. Perhaps my approach is too strong.

I bend down on one knee and bring my head level with his.

‘Are you lost, sweetheart?’ I ask as softly as I can.

I root in my pocket and find a half-eaten packet of fruit gums. I offer them to him, and he nearly snaps my hand off as he quickly grabs them. Ma
ybe he isn’t so shy, after all.
He stuffed one after another into his little mouth without taking the time to chew. I’m afraid he’ll choke, but he savages the jellies before they have a chance to lodge anywhere near his throat.

‘Will we go find your mummy?’ I ask hoping the sweets have sealed our friendship.

He shakes his head sadly.

‘Do you know where she is?’ I ask.

He raises his grubby, little hand and points to some freestanding bins in the distance.

‘Is your mommy down there?’

‘She’s asleep.’ he explains.

I smile at hearing his sweet voice.

‘Let’s go see if we can wake her?’ I suggest.

I hope she’s still there. If she’s woken to find him missing, then I’m certain she will be searching for him and we may miss her.

I walk quickly almost forgetting the size of his small legs. He trots beside me, struggling to keep up. He wraps his small hand tightly around mine. His fingers are sticky and cold. He has no coat and one of his shoes is missing half its sole.

A pair of skinny legs lay knotted together and peek out from behind the large bins. The smell from the rubbish is positively foul. My stomach retches as we get closer. I pull the little boy in close to me shielding his eyes from the disturbing scene we find.

The young mother is unconscious on the ground. An offensive smell of urine stings my nose, and I automatically hold my breath. Her face is mashed into a puddle of her own vomit. She grips an empty bottle of cheap vodka in her hand and another broken bottle lies beside her.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t abandon the child. I can’t leave him alone with his disastrous mother. I scoop his light, frail body into my shaking arms and hug him tight.

‘It’s okay,’ I promise. ‘I’ll take care of you.’

He snuggles his tired head into the crook of my neck, and I savour the warmth of his little body.

‘If I remember correctly, you like cookies. Is that right?’

‘I’ve never had a cookie,’ he says.

‘But just earlier…I saw…’

His body tensed in my arms. And I realise I’m scaring him again.

‘Okay, well, cookies are yummy. And I think you’ll like them a lot. Would you like to try one?’

His grip around my neck loosens, and I can breathe again.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ I say. ‘Would you like to come to my house? I have some cookies there. Strawberry milk, too.’

His head bobs up and down, and he actually seems excited.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask not expecting to get an answer.

‘Lorcan,’ he whispers softly as if the two syllables are too big for his mouth.

‘That’s a lovely name.’

A couple of police officers pass us on the steps, and for a brief moment I freeze as the gravity of what I’m doing shoots up my spine. I pull Lorcan tight against me, but it doesn’t ease the horrible fear that the officers will try to take him from me.

‘There’s a woman passed out down there. She’s in a bad way,’ I say, trying to distract attention from the scared little boy in my arms.

‘Okay ma’am, we’ll take care of it,’ one of the officers says as they walk away. They don’t acknowledge Lorcan. I know I should have told them that he’s the drunk woman’s son, but I can protect him. I can save him. I want to. I want to keep him.

Lorcan shivers as the cold night air bites through his flimsy jumper. I stand him in front of me, and he beams at me with an adorable smile. I take off my heavy, winter coat and drape it around him. It overlaps, cocooning him and he snuggles against the soft material. I pick him up once more and begin running towards Nigel’s apartment. I almost trip a couple of times because I’m paying more attention to looking over my shoulder than watching where I’m going. I can’t shake the feeling that someone, anyone, everyone, will snatch him from me and I will be alone again.

I swallow a lump of nervous bile as I walk boldly past the main reception area of the hotel. I slam my fingers against the buttons in the lift and my legs twitch nervously as I wait for what feels like hours for the doors to open. I punch in the code instructing the lift to take us to the private top floor. I didn’t even question how I knew the correct combination of numbers because I’m running on autopilot. I won’t breathe properly until we are safely inside the confines of Nigel’s apartment.

I bang on the penthouse door so hard I feel my hand bruise as it connects with the solid oak.

Nigel opens the door and his jaw gaps unattractively. ‘Laura. Oh, thank God. We were so worried.’

‘I’m sorry; I don’t know how I got lost,’ I say as I barge past him, taking the door and slamming it shut behind me.

I press my back against the door, barricading it with my shaking body in case someone bursts through after me.

Ava races to me from the kitchen, wearing rubber gloves and a damp tea towel draped over her shoulder.

‘Jesus, Laura. Where have you been?’ She throws the gloves off and stretches her arms out wide preparing to hug me.

She stops abruptly just meters in front of me and slowly begins to back away. ‘Who is that?’

She points towards Lorcan, her finger twitching as if I’m holding a grenade in my arms.

‘This is Lorcan,’ I say proudly.

‘Lorcan,’ she echoes. It’s not a question. She hasn’t misheard. ‘Lorcan. Don’t you think that’s a little too coincidental?’

‘Yeah.’ I smile. ‘It’s a sign; you definitely have to call your baby Lorcan now.’

‘Whose kid is this?’ Nigel asks smiling at Lorcan. It’s obvious he likes children.

I ignore their questions and, double-checking the door is firmly closed, I walk to the couch. I set Lorcan between some fluffy cushions and turn to the first children’s channel I can find on the huge, flat screen television.

‘Whose child is that?’ Nigel repeats following me through to the sitting room, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘Do you know this child?’

‘It’s the little boy from the train station,’ Ava announces. ‘Does his mother know he’s here?’

‘Of course not,’ I snap.

‘Oh Christ,’ Ava says beginning to shake. ‘Did you kidnap him?’

I don’t answer her.

‘I knew this was a bad idea,’ Ava whispers quietly to Nigel, but I heard her.

‘Shh…’ Nigel says placing his finger over his lip. ‘We don’t want to scare him.’

‘How can I shhh…she has stolen a child. I think we have to face the fact we have a problem.’ Nigel clasped his hands and presses them down on the top of his head. ‘I knew this would never work. You should still be in the hospital.’

‘Excuse me?’ I growl, my attention still focused on Lorcan.

Nigel’s nose twitches and his feet shuffle. His edginess dents his usual perfection.

‘Nothing,’ Ava snaps. ‘Never mind.’

‘We have to take him back to his mother.’ Nigel’s stiff upper body attempts to soften, but it’s a fail.