Forgotten (42 page)

“Like last time,” Nate added. “All of this
is exactly like last time.”

Not everything.

I searched
the blank, back wall, imagined a tall, solid figure leaning
straight against it, imagined his arms fiercely crossed,
imag
ined his cool, unreadable face.
“Where’s Milo?”

Nate clenched his jaw. “Milo’s beginning to
really piss me off.”

“Nothing?”

“Not one single, fricking word from
him.”

My neck prickled. “And he knows about
Papa?”

“
Both I and
Marcus have tried ringing, left messages and whatever. Still
nothing.”

The prickles
began to itch. “Keep trying
, anyway.” I
then spun around.

Nate spun me
back. “Clauds?” he said, with a puzzled look.

He had
questions, none of which I had the time nor the inclination to
answer. “I can’t right now.” He studied me and winced. He then
released my arm and I headed to Papa.

Papa appeared remarkably peaceful, even with
the bulky oxygen mask. His cheeks were faintly flushed and
surprisingly warm to touch. I turned to Mama. Her blanched,
listless skin and glazed, sunken eyes told me all I needed to know.
“What happened, Mama; what happened to Papa?”

It took only
one slow blink, a long, profound sigh and my mother’s entire
demeanor changed. Clasping together her well-manicured hands, she
straightened her shoulders and glowered at me.

“M… Mama?”

“Is this what it takes,” she said in a low,
taut voice, “your Papa in a hospital bed before you finally see
him, perhaps even forgive him?”

“
It
isn’t like that, Mama.”

“Of course it is.”

Her words
were harsh, yes. But, deep inside, I wondered if she was partly
right? Uncertain, I blurted out a shaky apology but she shoved it
aside with a dignified flick of her handkerchief. Behind me, a door
opened and closed and urgent voices muttered.

“
That day
when you walked out on your Papa,” my mother went on, “when you
chose the help of some… some… complete stranger instead, it hurt
your father very much.”

An
old
saying about pots and black kettles
spun like disconnected pieces in my head. Hadn’t my mother once
left Papa, hurt him also? Was she trying to pass some of her own
guilt onto me? “I was hurting too, Mama.”

“
I’m sure
you were, Claudia. But
we
are blood.
We
still look after
our own, just like your father has done all these years. What you
did broke his heart. You, Claudia you broke his heart.
You
are
why he’s here.”

I stepped back horrified, aimless and blind.
Footsteps thudded closer. Strong arms held me up and Aunt Lia’s
unmistakable voice dominated. “That’s enough, Adeline,” she
hissed.

Mama dropped
her head. In a contrite way? I wasn’t sure. A few, short locks of
her near-black hair fell across her high cheekbones.

“Nate, Marcus,” Lia said, not once taking
her eyes off Mama. “I think your mother needs some time away from
this room. Perhaps the cafeteria?”

A
shaky-looking Nate crouched in front of Mama. It struck me how
identical their profiles were. “Let’s go see if their coffee is as
good as yours, Mama,” he said. My mother leaned her head to one
side, cupped Nate’s anxious face and smiled. A little envy grazed
my soul.

“
You okay,
Sis?” Marcus asked.

I
straightened. “Yeah,” I lied. Marcus didn’t look convinced. I
didn’t blame him. A superior imagination I had, but sadly not the
acting skills to match. “Please, just look after Mama.”

With a
progressively heavy heart, I watched them leave. I pressed my
burning chest and took deep breaths, smelling all the wrong, sickly
smells. I then sat beside Papa. The lean, stiff mattress, still
warm from my mother, scarcely moved; its plastic cover
crackled.

When Lia
touched my shoulder, it was light and supportive as was her voice.
Her brightly colored bangles jingled a familiar, soothing tune.
“You know, my darling, this isn’t your fault.”

Lia dipped her head, tried to catch my eyes
but I could barely look at her. “Then why would Mama say such a
thing?”

“She’s frightened. She’s needs to make sense
of what’s happened to your father.”

I studied Papa’s stationary figure, listened
to the rhythmic, mechanical whirring of his life-controlling
machine. And I wondered what he was dreaming about. I squeezed his
hand, and prayed it was only good things.

Lia was
possibly right about my mother but my perpetual conscious wasn’t as
kind. “Like Mama said, Papa would’ve been so hurt when I left him
that day.”

“And if I’m not mistaken, so would’ve
you.”

“
I’m not the
one lying in a damn hospital bed.”

“No. You’re the one who carries guilt around
as if it’s another bodily organ. Have I not taught you
anything?”

I swore and
shot a sharp glance at Lia. But, she was as always, incredibly
patient, incredibly loving. And I selfishly wished my own mother
were more like her.

Papa groaned.

Or maybe I had imagined it.

With my face
mere inches from his, I watched and prayed. Could I be so
fortunate? When he released a second, louder groan, I stroked his
soft, tepid cheek, whispered his name repeatedly. Long, hopeful
seconds passed before Papa gradually opened his eyes.

I shot a look at Lia. Her grin was all teeth
and happy crinkles. “He’ll probably be a bit disoriented, just
reassure him.”

I did as she suggested, bent close to his
ear and briefly told him where he was and what had happened.

He closed his eyes and I winced. Was he
going back to sleep? More tense seconds passed. I turned at a
shuffling sound to my left. Papa was lifting his arm. The movement
was jerky and uncoordinated. His arm fell back onto the woven,
hospital-blue blanket. “What, Papa? What are you trying to do?”

But Papa
closed his eyes again. I appealed to Lia. She appeared as
bewildered as I felt. Back to Papa and I noticed his lips
moving.

Then I knew.

I carefully lifted his mask, rested it on
his forehead and waited. His first intelligible word was my pet
name. I fought back a hysterical laugh and cupped his face with
both hands. “Yes Papa, it’s me, your Carino.”

He smiled.

“You’re going to be fine, Papa. I know this
in my heart.”

Papa
coughed. I realized it was an attempt at a laugh. And when he
spoke, it was with an unusually croaky, brittle voice. Still the
best sound I’d heard in a long, long time. “That is because your
Papa is strong… like a….”

“
Bear.” I
laughed with him. That one beautiful moment could’ve lasted
forever.

But it
didn’t. My phone bleated; Tallow warning me.

I wanted to
tell Tallow to go away, that this was
my
time with Papa, probably
my only time. To give me just a few more precious
seconds.

It was as if
my father knew. Those charming blue eyes of his, the ones that I
always synonymized with trust, loyalty and more importantly love,
locked with mine. “You have to go,” he whispered.

I didn’t
know what to say.

He searched
for my hand, found it and covered it with his own. “I did not mean
the awful things I said that day, Carino.”

Tears
pricked my eyes. I swallowed them back. “I know, Papa, I didn’t
either.”

Papa sighed;
his eyelids fluttered in a sluggish, sleepy-like way.
So many unsaid words seemed to drift aimlessly
between us. But I had to let them go.

Instead, I
pictured the day when Papa and I would again laze back in a pair of
comfortable sun-loungers, soak up the glorious Nankari views and a
good bottle of Chianti.

I stroked his newly moistened cheek with the
back of my hand, allowed my own tears to fall. Somewhere in that
emotional haze, my phone bleated again.

Take a hike, Tallow.

“Someone is worried about you,” Papa
whispered.

“Yes.”

“I worry too.”

For once,
Papa had every reason to worry. But what was I to tell him? That
unknown people for unknown reasons were trying to kill me, some
tolerantly waiting outside this very hospital? “You aren’t to
worry, Papa. I am safe.” I tried
not
to avert my look. Papa would
immediately know I was lying.

“Saul Reardon?”

I raised my
brow. Strangely, it was in no way malicious or resentful. “Yes,
Papa.” I waited for an adverse comeback. But there was none. “In
many ways he’s like you, smart, strong and every bit as fiercely
protective. He won’t let anything happen to me, just as you
haven’t.”

Papa nodded.
“Then you must go…
now
… as this Saul Reardon has
planned.”

My jaw
dropped. “How do you know about what Saul has planned?”

Papa glanced
at my surgery scrubs. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

With a heavy
sigh, I kissed both his cheeks and gave him a gentle hug. As I did,
Papa cast a strange glance sideways. “Just be careful who you
trust….” I caught Lia grimacing. She shrugged. “And above all, keep
safe.”

I promised
him I would and then I replaced his mask. With one last squeeze of
his hand, I headed towards the door. Behind me, high heels
click-clacked along the vinyl flooring. “Claudia, wait.” I
semi-turned. Lia appeared every bit as disturbed as she sounded.
“At least tell me what’s going on with you?”

I
could’
ve laughed. I mean, seriously, how
many ridiculously truthful answers could I give to that question?
And did I really want to? Yes, Lia had been an incredible source of
strength in my life, particularly during my weakest moments
but….

My phone
bleated a third time and I swore again. “I don’t have the time now,
Lia.” I quickly text Tallow that I was on my way.

“I need to talk with you.” She hesitated,
conspicuously dipping her eyes. “I know some things… family
things.”

We look after our own
was fast
becoming a tiresome mantra that I just wanted to do horrible stuff
to.

“Things that can help me?”

She nodded.

“
I’ll call
you very soon. Right now, for everyone’s safety, I need to
go.”

I hugged her and left.

***

Viola wasn’t outside.

I withdrew
my mobile, precautionary only, and made my own way back. When I
finally spotted the fire-escape door, I tasted sweet relief,
blessed Saul for a plan well thought out.

That was, until someone called my name.

Rationality
told me that to be impossible. To hear one word rise amongst the
clamorous sounds of a hospital ICU ward was, yet again, my hungry
imagination feeding.
I pressed
on.

Heard my name again.

I wiped the
increasing dampness from my forehead. Muffled, unintelligible
voices rushed past me. A shoulder bumped mine, slowed me down. A
curt apology later, I was back on my way.
But to where exactly? As a rule, fire escapes are only
accessible from one side. Once I used it, Tallow and I would be
incapable of locking anyone out.

What to do?

Perhaps go
to a nurse’s station, call 000. And tell the police what? That
someone called out my name
? Not a crime
in this country, not yet, anyway. I readied to press speed dial to
Saul.

“
Claudia?”
The high-pitched voice skidded along the corridors like an army of
pre-pubescent roller-bladers. I cringed, felt relief in some crazy
kind of way. When I reached the exit, I heaved the door open and
stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Tallow’s gruff,
ruddy face flashed back. “Where have you been?”

Before
I explained, the door
re-opened. With one deliberate, slick movement, Tallow aimed his
weapon.

Mel
appeared. Her hands were raised high; her stretched, stricken eyes
humorously crisscrossed on the gun’s barrel.

I stepped
towards Tallow. “She’s a friend.”

“
I
don
’t care. Why is she here?”

I decided if Tallow had any affable people
skills, he employed them on a needs basis only. “If you remove the
gun from her face, she might just answer you.”

Tallow
lowered it, only partially.

“
To… to find
out about your father,” Mel said, still watching the gun. “You
never pick up your damn phone, Claudia.”

That wasn’t
it. I had my phone turned off, as did Saul and Ethan. Precaution if
anyone was trying to track us down. We now all possessed
disposables.

“Is it possible you were followed?” Tallow
asked Mel.

What?

He repeated the question.

“
Why would
anyone
follow me?” Mel’s lip twitched,
quite a lot, not a trait I had ever noticed before.

Tallow
swore, raised his weapon again and swung a steady, glacial look at
me. “Claudia, get downstairs,
now
.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed Mel’s hand and
began our long flight. Tallow’s heavy boots thumped close to our
heels. “Not looking good, Saul,” I heard him say.