He fumbled for a tissue and awkwardly dried my tears.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffed. “It’s all the painkillers. I was a bit frightened yesterday, and thanks so much for being there… I…” I sniffed back another impeding bout of tears.
Get a grip, woman.
A nurse attending the patient next to me threw me a kind look.
“Now, now,” she said across the beds. “It’s not so bad, now.” And then, speaking to Dan, she offered as though I wasn’t present, “She
will
be a little tearful. It’s the aftershock, and all the medication.” Dan looked somewhat reassured.
“I rang your mum and dad,” he said, “and they send their love. They’ll probably be here in a couple of hours as well. You gave us all a mighty fright.” He grinned his boyish grin.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, touched by his thoughtfulness. However, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I was going to explode if I didn’t tell him.
“Dan…” I started. “Dan…there’s something I’ve got to tell you.” Oh God, those awful words. Dan’s eyes were the size of saucers. It had never seized to amaze me how this rock god could look so much like a frightened little boy.
“You remember Steve? You know, I told you about Steve?” I launched in somewhat brusquely.
Dan nodded.
“Well, he was here yesterday. He was my theater nurse. He came up to see me afterwards. And he visited this morning, with breakfast. And—” I couldn’t get myself to say the rest. I couldn’t read Dan’s face. An eternity seemed to pass before a slow smile spread, lighting up his features and making his eyes look that unbelievable shade of blue again.
“Sophie Penhalligan,” he teased in a stern voice, “are you trying to tell me that you have been abusing your condition to make eyes at the man of your dreams?”
I didn’t respond—I was too busy trying to gauge his reaction.
Was
he teasing, or was he upset?
“How bizarre,” he continued, echoing my earlier thoughts. “How really odd that you should meet him, here. Now. Like this. And tell me”—he leaned forward eagerly—“have you talked? You know, like, really talked? Is there something there?”
I nodded my head. “I think so,” I said tentatively.
Dan got up and leaned over the bed, trying to give me an awkward little hug around the IV drip.
“I am so pleased for you,” he exclaimed, and he sounded genuine. “No really, I am. You’ve told me all about this moment you guys had, and I didn’t believe you, and now you’ve finally connected. That’s so wonderful.”
He sat back and rubbed his hands. “Now, tell me everything. Please.”
Not for the first time, I asked myself whether Dan was for real and whether I made the right choice giving him up when I did. Not that I was having second thoughts, but he could be so kind, so caring, so selfless that a girl did have to wonder why she wouldn’t hold on to this man with all her might. In a rational, hypothetical kind of way, of course.
So I took him at this word and told him everything. I repeated every word and we analyzed the meaning of it all, and Dan honestly appeared happy for me, gleeful even.
And if I had worried, ever so slightly, whether sharing my newfound love for another man with a previous lover would taint the budding emotions somehow…uh-uh, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Hearing myself describe my feelings and impressions made them more real, seemed to distil their pure essence until there was nothing left but the certainty that I had found my thunderbolt-and-lightning man. At last.
My parents arrived later that afternoon, Mum looking pale and worried, Dad pretending to be chipper and cheerful. They were both shaken and anxious, so I tried to make light of the whole thing. After all, the last time we had all met up in a hospital was when Dad had his heart attack, and that had been much more serious. Mum had a long whispered conversation with the nurse and she brightened up immensely. She had brought me toiletries and books and a bagful of chocolate and crisps, which I examined with a slight sense of recoil. However, when Dad offered to get some takeaway pizza for dinner, I didn’t say no. I probably wouldn’t eat much, but I could fancy a slice of Margherita pizza.
In the end, I was in hospital for five days before they would discharge me. Mum and Dad stayed at my flat for a few days, coming to visit every day. As did Steve and Dan. My bedside was a hive of comings and goings, and I was starting to feel self-conscious about it.
Rachel rang me as soon as she heard and told me off mightily for not looking after myself. We had a little joke about how we both seemed to be drawn to hospitals these days. And one evening, when I found myself miraculously on my own, I closed the curtains around my bed and rang her for a full debrief on the wedding, and everything that had happened since. Including, most important of all, the developments with Steve. Rach was beside herself with shared excitement, and once more I found myself rehashing every last word, every detail, every gesture, every action that had passed between Steve and myself to date.
“Oh, oh, oh, I can’t believe I can’t be there to witness this,” she yowled down the phone. “You lucky dog, you! Finding the man of your dreams in the hospital when you’re in for acute appendicitis. I’ve never heard anything so preposterous.”
“I know,” I giggled. “We can’t believe it either. But Rach…” I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while I gave the dressing over the stitches on my tummy a quick rub. It was eternally itchy now and driving me insane with discomfort.
“Rach, it’s so amazing. We’ve not even done anything, obviously, we’ve talked and he’s like my soul mate. He reads me. Like he’s known me forever. Tim and I, we got dating and it was lovely and comfortable and all that, and romantic to start with, but there was never that connection. Ever. And Dan, well, that was a whirlwind of excitement and romance and—”
“Sex,” Rachel interrupted.
“—
and that, too,” I whispered, as if all the other patients on the ward might have heard her. “It was all of that, and he did know me really well, and still does, but it was different somehow.”
“Are you sure that’s not the anesthetics talking?” Rachel probed gently, adding teasingly, “You
do
sound mildly delusional, you know.”
“Do I?” I giggled. “Steve keeps telling me the same thing. Not about being delusional, but about the anesthetics and medicines clouding my judgment. But I don’t know, I
feel
lucid. I don’t feel great, physically, and I’m really tired and woozy and wobbly. Yet lying here, resting, I feel my head is clear and my thoughts are there.”
“Hm.” Rachel mused doubtfully.
“Anyway,” I continued, “Steve is keeping the brakes on until I’m better. He hasn’t said, but I can feel it. And even so, it’s there, that weird magic, that knowing each other. That rightness.”
“Hm
.” Rachel said again.
“Will you stop ‘hm-ing’ me?” I demanded,
“Okay,” Rachel yielded. “It just all sounds so lovely. I’ll have to come down and meet this man as soon as possible, I suppose.” She sounded like the big brother I didn’t have.
“When will you come back?” I pounced.
“Probably next week, or the week after. I’ve got a few projects to wrap up here, but I’m all better and…what was that you said just now?” Rachel paused as though collecting her thoughts. When she went on, I could practically see her making a Sophie-face as she was talking. “
I feel lucid. My head is clear and my thoughts are there.”
I snorted. “Don’t take the mickey out of an invalid, it’s unkind.”
“But I’m not,” she protested. “I do feel all there. Calm. Ready to go back and face it all. You know, my flat, the places we used to hang out… I’ve visualized them all in my mind and I can take it. So,” she adopted a Schwarzenegger voice this time, “I’ll be back. Soon.”
We shared a giggle, and I hung up. I was a little exhausted after this conversation, but I felt jubilant.
I felt even more jubilant when, during rounds the next morning, I was told that I would be discharged the next day. Thank heaven! Steve came round soon afterward and he already knew. He said he would take the day off to help me settle into my flat and wouldn’t brook any kind of argument. I was touched, and nervous. What would it be like introducing my man to my flat? How would we behave, what would we
say
in a private environment? It was like having first date nerves.
Steve was unperturbed. On the contrary, he was busy making arrangements to ensure that I would be comfortable. We were almost done when Dan turned up, accompanied by a young lady who looked slightly familiar. She was immaculately turned out, wearing beautiful, expensive clothes. She smiled widely and genuinely at me. Yet my heart sank. Steve meeting Dan,
here
, for the first time, and in the presence of this beautiful stranger...
Steve got up and extended a hand to Dan, greeting him openly.
“You must be Dan,” he said. “I’ve heard all about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
Dan grinned his big boyish smile and took Steve’s hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he drawled, then gave Steve a light matey punch on the shoulder. “You must be Steve. Good to meet you, mate,” Dan continued sincerely. He was in his best making-friends mode. I had not seen it often, but I did know this was for real. It wasn’t his I’m-nice-to-you-but-I-don’t-know-you-and-I’ll-never-see-you-again brand of friendliness. There was a brief uneasy moment as the two men eyed each other up. The unfamiliar woman broke the spell by clearing her throat and poking Dan in the ribs. Dan sprang to.
“Oh, yeah, right, of course, sorry,” he mumbled apologetically. I had rarely seen him so flustered. “Sophie, this is Jodie. Jodie, this is Sophie.” He made clumsy back-and-forth hand gestures between me and his sister, and suddenly everything became clear. I had never had an opportunity to meet any of his family before, and he was out of his comfort zone introducing us. Jodie rescued the situation gracefully.
“You social klutz,” she pronounced teasingly and playfully poked Dan in the ribs once more. “It’s a miracle to me that you’re so popular with the ladies.” Turning to me, she instructed, “Ignore him. He may be my famous older brother, but he’s got the grace of a guinea pig.”
She appropriated a chair and sat down while the men were still standing round uncertainly.
I stared in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” I burst out ungraciously, then backtracked. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. It’s lovely to meet you, only Dan said he rarely ever sees you and suddenly you’re here, of all places…”
Jodie fiddled with her handbag. “It’s crackers, I know. But I simply
had
to meet the owner of the Sophie dress. I’m just passing through London on my way to LA and I couldn’t resist.”
The dress, oh my God, of course!
“Thank you so much for my perfect little dress,” I gushed. “It’s divine. It’s the most amazing piece of—”
Whoops, hold it, Sophie.
I couldn’t call the dress a piece of clothing. I corrected myself quickly. “—the most amazing garment I’ve ever owned, or ever will. Short of a wedding gown, perhaps.” I giggled nervously. “Thank you so much, I…well, I really don’t know what to say. When they said in the shop that I could have it for nothing…”
“It was nothing,” Jodie stated simply. “I made it for you. I hoped one day you would find it, or it would find you. It did, and that made me happy.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But still…”
“How are you feeling?” Jodie whispered and cast an appraising eye over me. “You certainly don’t look your best.”
I laughed, and picked at strands of my greasy hair. “What a relief to hear someone say that,” I replied honestly. “For days, everyone has been telling me how great I look, how much better I look, but I know I’m not, and I’m desperate for a hair wash.” Jodie made to say something, but I jumped in first. “Don’t even go there. I may feel skanky, but there’s no way I feel like braving the shower yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
Jodie laughed, and I joined in. It was lovely to have some female company, somebody who instinctively knew how weird it was not to wash your hair and blow dry it and look nice day in and day out. She was totally down-to-earth and unaffected, and I had a feeling we would make great friends, given the chance. She was still pondering my beauty conundrum.
“How’s about a funky scarf or something?” she offered. “You know, the ethnic look.”
“Ah, no thanks,” I joked back. “I feel quite ethnic enough as it is.”
“What
are
you two girls talking about?” Dan butted in suddenly. He and Steve had been to the vending machines and brought tea and snacks for everyone.
“Lady things,” Jodie replied to his question. “Comforts and necessities.” She raised her eyebrows at Steve, rubbing her fingers across her scalp in a hair washing kind of motion. Steve caught on immediately. He set his cups and muffins down on my tray quickly and dabbed at my hair.
Right, now I
really
felt like an ethnic freak.
“I’m sorry, my lovely,” he said. “It never even occurred to me. That’s men for you. And I call myself a nurse.”
He looked suitably apologetic. “Shall I get it sorted for you? Because I can, if you want. It’s not a big deal at all, I—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted. “Maybe tomorrow, at home…” I let the sentence hang, my eyes darting from Steve to Dan and back.