Authors: Scot Gardner
I
wish
I
could
say
that
I
just
got
up,
dusted
myself
off
and kept
at
it.
That
’
s
what
always
happened
before
then.
Even when
Den
and
I
were
nine
and
we
had
that
massive
crash on
our
bikes
at
the
bottom
of
Merrimans
Creek
hill,
I
still
got
up
and
rode
home.
Whe
n
th
e
sa
w
bi
t
me
,
I
didn
’
t
ge
t
up.
Dad
has
filled
me
in
on
the
details.
He
said
I had
my eyes
open
while
it
was
all
going
on
but
I
don
’
t
remember
a
thing.
W
eird.
Like
those
moments
just
don
’
t
exist
in
my
mind.
He
said
he
used
his
singlet
to
stop
the
bleeding
from
my
arm
and
when
the
blood
came
through
he
got some
scungy
overalls
out
of his
toolbox.
He
was
screaming for
help
until an
old
lady
came
out
from
the
house
over
the road.
She
watched
from
her
fence
for
a
few
seconds—
wasn
’
t
game
to
cross.
‘For
Chrissake,’
Dad
finally
said,
‘call
an
ambulance
my son
’
s
been
hurt.’
Then,
he
said,
like
a
flash-of-where
’
s-you
r
-grandmothe
r
, an
ambulance rocked
up
and
a
bloke
and
a
woman jumped
out—like
on
the
telly—and
carted
me
off
to
the
hospital.
Sirens
and
lights
and
eve
r
ything.
I
wish
I
remembered
that
bit.
When
I
was
eight
I
got
really
sick
and
had
to
go
to
hospital
for a
few
days.
I
had
measles
and
I
spent
the whole
time sleeping
then catching
glimpses
of
people
looming
over
me.
It
was
sca
r
y
then
and
I
was
in
the
same
situation
no
w
,
floating
in
and
out
of
consciousness
and feeling
frightened
by
the
people
hanging
over
me.
The
scariest
part
was
when
I
woke
up
and
I
couldn
’
t move.
Couldn
’
t hea
r
.
I
shouted
out for Mum but she couldn
’
t
hear
me
or
no
sound
came
out.
My
legs
were frozen
and
my
arms
were
like
lead.
My
hand
hurt
and
it
’
s
like
I
was
looking
at
the
world
through
a
cardboard
tube, watching
the
people
in
the
blue
gowns
ghosting
about.
I screamed
in
terror
and then
it
was
all
black
but
I
was
still
awake.
I
stopped
screaming,
still
thinking
with
my
eyelids strained
open.
Like I
was in the
deepest
rainforest
in South
America
at
night
searching
for
the
faintest
light.
I knew
there
was
something
out
there.
I
could
feel
it.
I
could hear
a
car
in
the
distance
and
it gradually
became
louder
and
more
musical.
It
wasn
’
t
a
car;
it
was seagulls
cawing,
and
a
scratching
sound
behind it like someone
running
their
fingers
down
a
blackboard. I
was screaming
again.
That
sound
was
eating
my
brain
out.
‘Nooooooo.
Help
me.’
Black
silence,
then
a
sound
so sweet
and
pure
that
I
could
feel
it
lifting
me.
The
thousand
screeching
seagulls had
been
drowned
out
by
a
chorus
of
tiny
bells
making
music
like
the
twinkling
of
stars.
Out
of
the
blackness
in my
mind
came
a
form—violet
water
in
front of
my
eyes that
suddenly
had
arms
and
legs
and
dark
hai
r
.
At
first
I thought
it
was
a
bird
but
as
the
form
turned
towards
me
I
could
see
it
was
a
little
girl
with
glowing
green
eyes
and
full soft
lips
that
never
moved
from
a
warm
smile,
yet
I heard
her
talking
to
me.
The
tiny
bells
were
her
voice
and she
whispered
into
my
mind
that
eve
r
ything
was
oka
y
.
I was
going
to
be
all
right.
She
moved
as
if
to
hug
me
but
when
I
reached
out
to
her
she
was
gone, right
through
me like
a
warm
breeze.
When
I
woke
up,
my
head
was
thick.
I
didn
’
t want
to open
my
eyes.
I
could
hear
quiet
talking
near
to
me
but couldn
’
t
recognise
the
voices.
A
smell
danced
in
my
nose, the
barest
hint of
something.
Sandalwood.
I
forced
my eyes
open
and
saw
Ker
r
y
sitting
on
the
side
of
my
bed
and Den standing
behind
he
r
.
At
the
sight
of
me
blinking
like a
rat
in
a
flour
bag,
her
lip
quivered.
She
picked
up
my
hand
and
held
it
to
her
face.
‘Hey
W
ayne.
Y
ou’re
back!’
‘
Y
ou’ve
been
in
the
intensive
care
thing
fo
r
,
like,
three
days.
Back
from
the
dead.
Check
his
pulse,
Kez.
Is
he
a
zombi
e
o
r
what?
’
De
n
darte
d
acros
s
th
e
roo
m
and
shouted
into
the
hallwa
y
,
‘He
’
s
awake!’
Then
Mum
was
there
hugging
me
and
wetting
my
face with
her
tears,
wheezing
and
sobbing. Bar
r
y
and
Gracie pushed
their
way
inside
too.
‘
W
e
thought
we’d
lost
you.
Y
ou
lost
so
much
blood
that
you
almost
..
.
thank
God
you’re
still
here.’
Then
it
was
a nurse making
a
fuss,
asking
me
stupid
shit like
if
I
could
hear
her
okay
and
how
many
fingers
she was
holdin
g
up
.
The
y
al
l
parte
d
whe
n
a
n
immaculately
dressed
Asian
man
came
in.
He
looked
like he’d just stepped
out
of a
kung fu movie.
His
broad
muscular shoulders
were
barely
disguised under a
clean
pressed
short-sleeve
d
shirt
.
Fragil
e
roun
d
hipp
y
glasse
s
sat
comfortably
on
his
nose
and
he
moved
with
the
grace
of someone
who
could
pluck
your
eye
out
with
his
big
toe from across
the street.
He
introduced himself as Dr Michael
Chen.
He
waved
his
tie
at
me;
Mickey
Mouse
was embroidered
on
it
in
colou
r
ful
silk.
‘
Y
ou
can
call
me
Micke
y
.
Eve
r
yone
else
does,’
he
said
in an
American
accent
that
seemed
out
of
place
from
a
man with eyebrows
so
fine and
dark.
‘
Y
ou
gave
us
quite a workout.
W
e
thought we’d
lost
you—I’ve
never
seen
so much
blood
in
all
my
life!’
I
liked
him.
He
looked
me
in
the
eyes
as
he
spoke
to
me.
‘
W
ayne,
how
do
you
feel?’
I
struggled
to
tell
him
that
my
arm
hurt
but
not
much sound
came
out. The
nurse
stuck
a
straw
in
my
mouth
and told
me
to
have
a
drink.
The
water
was
cold
and
I
felt
it
go
all
the
way
down.
‘
W
ayne,
your
left
hand
was
ve
r
y
badly
damaged
in
the accident
with
the
sa
w
.
Do
you
remember
that?’
I
nodded
and
he
moved
a
bit
closer
pushing
his
glasses
back
on
his
nose,
like
he
was
at
a good
bit
in
a bedtime sto
r
y
.
‘
W
ayne,
we
had
to
amputate
your
hand.’
Y
eah,
good
one.
‘Just
above
the
wrist.
T
oo
much
tissue
damage
to
your
wrist
and
hand
to
save
it.
I’m
ve
r
y
sor
r
y
it
had
to
be that wa
y
.
Y
ou
will
be
okay
to
move
around
in
a
couple
of
days.
Y
ou
will
be
all
right,
okay?’
H
e
patte
d
m
y
han
d
an
d
left
.
Mu
m
wa
s
reall
y
bawling no
w
,
Ker
r
y
too
.
Grac
e
wa
s
honkin
g
int
o
a
flowe
r
y
hank
y
.
Eve
n
Bar
r
y
ha
d
a
tea
r
i
n
hi
s
eye
.
Whe
n
I
looke
d
a
t
Den
,
his fac
e
screwe
d
u
p
an
d
h
e
dive
d
ou
t
int
o
th
e
hal
l
again
.
All
aroun
d
me
,
card
s
an
d
flower
s
wer
e
takin
g
u
p
eve
r
y
bi
t
of spac
e
tha
t
wasn
’
t
flashin
g
o
r
beepin
g
quietl
y
a
t
me
.
I
felt sic
k
i
n
th
e
guts
.
Wher
e
th
e
hel
l
wa
s
Dad
?
Here
’
s
the
weirdes
t
bit
:
instea
d
o
f
c
r
ying
,
I
nearl
y
pisse
d
mysel
f
with laughte
r
.
Shakin
g
an
d
shudderin
g
eve
r
y
tim
e
I
looked
dow
n
a
t
th
e
nea
t
bandage
s
tha
t
I
no
w
ha
d
instea
d
o
f
a
hand
.
I
laughe
d
lik
e
a
retar
d
fo
r
a
n
hou
r
,
of
f
an
d
on
.
Eve
r
y
tim
e
Mu
m
trie
d
t
o
comfor
t
m
e
o
r
I
though
t
o
f
another thin
g
tha
t
I
wouldn
’
t
b
e
abl
e
t
o
do
,
I’
d
jus
t
los
e
it
.
N
o
more
bik
e
riding
.
N
o
mor
e
vide
o
games
.
Imagin
e
wha
t
i
t
wil
l
be lik
e
a
t
school
.
Mand
y
won
’
t
wan
t
t
o
kno
w
m
e
..
.
tha
t
wa
s
th
e
hardes
t
o
f
all
.
M
y
lif
e
wa
s
fucked
.
Wha
t
a
laugh.