Blue Saturn (6 page)

When we get to the hospital, I’m asked a series of questions about Mike. Full name, date of birth, Medicare number. Health Insurance information. And I can’t answer any of it. I don’t know this child. I shouldn’t be here. All my training and experience suddenly seems pointless as I stare down at the little boy in front of me, who is still clutching at his belly.

“I’m just the babysitter,” I say, hating the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

The nurse gives me a desperate look.

I look down at my hands. One hand grips my phone, the other holds a little black book. In all my panic, I’d taken the book with Mike’s information in it and bought it with me. I laugh before I look back at the nurse.

“It’s all in here,” I say and open the book.

The nurse takes the details and hurries off.

I try calling Mike again. It’s now four o’clock in the morning and I’m hoping I’ll catch him before he goes to bed. He doesn’t answer so I leave another message. “It’s me again. I’m at the hospital with Mike. Please call me.”

I try to call Wayne also, but his phone goes straight to message bank. Gavin’s phone rings out.

I’m not sure what happens over the next few minutes, hour’s maybe. There is a lot of talking between doctors and nurses. They ask me questions. I feel my mouth moving to answer them, but I hear nothing of what I’m saying. All I can hear is the blood pumping through my body as my heart races in my chest. I am angry. I am angry at Mike. And I am scared. I’m scared for Mikey.

I’m given a form to sign. A nurse slips a cap over my head and asks me to slide my bare feet into a pair of slippers. She tells me I can stay with Mikey until he’s given the anaesthetic.

Mikey’s eyes are wide with fear. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. I try to explain that he’s going to go to sleep for a little while and that the doctors will make him feel better. When he wakes up his tummy won’t hurt anymore. Well not from a swelling appendix, anyway. But I’m sure the surgery will leave him with a different pain.

I watch Mikey’s eyes close and his hand loosens around mine. He’s wheeled away from me.

I’m taken to a waiting area. I sit and I wait.

I call Mike again. “It’s Lyndsay again. Mikey is in surgery, having his appendix removed. In case you care.” I hang up. I don’t ask him to call me. I don’t ask him to come to the hospital. He doesn’t care.

The nurse tells me the surgery will take between one to two hours. “Maybe you’d like to head down to the cafe for a hot drink?” she suggests.

I shake my head. Not because I’m not thirsty or wouldn’t like a hot drink, I could murder one, but because I need to be right here, where I can be found in case anything happens.

Please don’t let anything happen.

It’s five thirty in the morning. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I’m mentally and physically and emotionally exhausted. I stand up and pace the small waiting room. I’m walking toward the wall at the far end when I hear a loud voice.

“You!”

I turn around and Mike is pointing at me. He’s angry. At me.

“What made you think you have the right to consent for my son to have surgery?”

All my worry slips away and I burn with anger as I slowly walk toward Mike. “It became my right when you didn’t answer your phone because you were too busy sticking your dick in god only knows what!”

“I’m on tour,” he yells. “I’m working!”

“And so am I. It’s my job to care for your son. And I did that. And goodness knows I do a better damn job than you ever could.” My voice is equally raised as Mike’s.

I see Mike raise his hand but it doesn’t connect with me. Someone from behind grabs it and stops the impact. Mike and I stand staring each other down. In all my fuming rage, I hold his intense gaze. I will not be the first to look away. I will not back down.

“Let’s go Mike.” Wayne is holding Mike’s arm and moves his other arm to his shoulder, and pulls Mike away from me.

“She’s done. I want her gone,” Mike says as he walks form the room.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re calm...” Wayne’s voice fades as they walk away.

In all the heated emotion of my confrontation with Mike, I wasn’t aware that we had an audience. Gavin and Steve are standing on the other side of the room. Gavin steps forward and Steve leaves the room.

“Are you okay?” Gavin asks.

“Yes,” I say and sit down on the nearest chair. “But I just lost my job, didn’t I?” It surprises me how heavy that sits with me.

“I doubt it.” Gavin sits next to me and puts an arm around me. “Mike is stoned off his face. He’ll go home, sleep it off and he won’t remember any of it when he wakes up.”

I take a deep breath in. “It’s probably for the best that I go anyway. We hate each other.”

“Do you?” Gavin asks.

I shrug my shoulders. I don’t hate Mike. I don’t know him. But I hate what he does. I hate that he’s putting his partying lifestyle before his son’s welfare. I understand that he has to make a living, but does he have to get drunk and high every day?

Gavin continues. “Mike doesn’t hate you Lynd’s. He’s just mad. He’s hurting.”

“Why is Mr Has-The-World-At-His-Feet hurting?”

Gavin takes his arm away from me and rubs his face. “That man has had his heart broken over and over, by the same woman.”

“Mikey’s mum?”

“Yeah. They were childhood sweethearts. And when I say childhood, I mean they were holding hands at eight years old. Mike told everyone he was going to marry her.

“They stayed together all through high school. But just before we hit the big time, things were pretty bad. We were sharing a shoebox tiny apartment. We were working days and playing in crap hole clubs at night.

“One day, Mike woke up and she was gone. She left him a note saying she couldn’t live waiting for him to live his dream when her dreams were slipping away. He tried heart and soul to get her back, but she refused. Not even once we hit it big. Mike gave up trying and I watched him go from a driven artist to a substance dependant rock star.

“Three months ago, Mike gets a call saying that Angela had passed away. She didn’t have much, but what she did have she’d left to her son. And her son’s father was Mike Greene.

“A few blood tests and whatever later it was confirmed that Mikey was Mike’s son and I watched his heart break all over again. Angela was poor, and you could tell from looking at Mikey that he’s had a crap childhood. Mike feels guilty, you know. He has everything and his son had nothing.”

“Then why doesn’t Mike pull his head out of his arse and start being a father?”
“Because he’s angry. He’s hurting and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So for now, he’ll play his music, drink copious amounts of alcohol, inhale whatever’s on offer and sleep with a barrage of women. Anything to numb him from the pain.”

I look up at Gavin and smile. “Did you study psychology or something?”

“Me? No. I never even finished high school. But you don’t have to be a genius to know what he’s doing. I’ve known him for a long time. I love him more than my eleven sisters. It’s his way of dealing with it all. Can you imagine what it’d be like to find out you have a kid? A four year old kid. And to find out at the same time that the woman you would’ve given your own life for is dead?”

I can’t imagine how that would feel. Even with all the badness I’ve been exposed to, I’ve never really had my heart broken.

I shake my head and close my eyes. I feel absolutely drained of all strength.

Gavin puts his arm around me and I lower my head onto his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be unemployed, but I’ll be fine.”

“He won’t fire you. He needs you.”

“Why does he need me? There are thousands of people who can do my job.”

“True, but you don’t put up with his crap. You stand up to him and he likes that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Gavin tightens his hold on me and rubs his hand up and down my arm. “Get some sleep. You look like crap.”

“Thanks,” I laugh. I begin to say that I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, but before the words can form on my tongue, I feel my eyes grow heavy and my body goes weak.

Mikey is awake and completely drugged up on pain killers. He’s smiling happily, looking at people with a mild amusement as they come and go from his room.

I’ve trusted Gavin to pack a few days worth of clothes for me. I also asked him to pack a few toys and books for Mikey. He’ll drop by before tonight’s show.

Mike is here. He’s sitting beside Mikey, and they’re watching cartoons on the TV. He looks terrible. Mike that is. He’s pale and his eyes are blood shot. Granted he’s only had a few hours of sleep today, but I’ve never seen him looking this bad.

We don’t talk to each other. He hasn’t even looked at me. He has successfully ignored me in every way.

I think back to what Gavin told me, that he’s hurting. He looks like a man in pain. He looks defeated. This man may have anything and everything he desires, but the one thing he really wants...he can never have.

And for the first time since I first met Michael Greene, I see him as a person. Not a rock god or a bad father or a spoilt brat. But as a real person.

And for the first time, I feel a hint of sympathy for him.

8.

Mikey’s surgery went well. He’s recovering well. I’ve spent the last three nights with him, sleeping on a small cot bed in the corner of his private room. My back is aching and my neck is stiff and I feel like I haven’t slept more than a few hours over the last few days but none of that matters. Mikey is well and is being discharged today.

I texted Mike yesterday afternoon to let him know that we are coming home today. He had three radio shows, a television appearance and a concert last night so needless to say he visited only very briefly yesterday morning.

I’m instructed to make sure Mikey doesn’t over exert himself over the next few days. The wounds have waterproof dressings over them, and they’re to stay on until we see a surgeon again in ten days. We’ve been referred to the Children’s hospital in Brisbane, because we’ll be in Queensland in ten days. In the meantime, he can have Panadol for the pain as required.

It’s just after eleven o’clock in the morning when I get back to the hotel. I carry Mikey on one hip and pull our bag behind us. Wayne did offer to meet me at the hospital for escort me home, but I know today is his day off and I didn’t want to bother him. I said I’d be fine on my own.

“Will Mike be here?” Mikey asks as we travel up to the penthouse apartment in the lift.

“He might be, but he might be asleep, so we have to be quiet, okay?”

“Okay.” He lowers his head to my shoulder and presses his forehead against my neck.

When I open the door to the apartment, the sound of music hits me. It’s not too loud, but it’s present. I can also hear laughter, giggling to be precise.

Apprehensively, I walk through to the living area.

The room is full of people and bottles of liquor and smoke and...sex. Those people are having sex where I ate dinner four nights ago. I quickly hide Mikey’s face, pressing his head against my shoulder and covering his face as best I can with my hand.

“What is this?” I say. My eyes continue to scan the room, this time seeing things wishing I could un-see.

Steve is sitting on the couch, two topless women either side of him. They’re kissing each other while Steve watches. Steve moves his hand and starts to unzip his pants.

Mike is on the floor, kneeling over a naked woman, inhaling white powder from between her breasts. He is dressed at least, he’s not wearing a shirt, but he has pants on.

He rubs his nose and looks up at me. “Oh great, the babysitter is back.” He reaches for a bottle of clear liquid, which I’m assuming isn’t water and takes a mouthful before pouring it over the naked girl lying between his legs. She laughs and pulls Mike down to her breasts again.

“Lynd’s.” I turn around to see Gavin standing behind me. He’s also shirtless and he has a massive dragon tattoo on his torso. It’s horrible, almost demonic looking. “I didn’t know you were coming back today.”

“I texted Mike yesterday to let him know.” The couple having sex on the table start making noises I really wish I couldn’t hear. “Are you aware its eleven o’clock in the morning?”

Gavin scratches his head before shaking it. A girl appears behind him, slaps his bum and saunters past. She’s only wearing underwear.

I’m sure I’m about to be sick. This entire scene is sickening.

“I’m really sorry Lyndsay,” Gavin says.

“I need to get Mikey into bed.”

Gavin grabs my arm as I try to walk past him. “We were just in his bed,” he says. “You can’t go into your room either.”

“Jeez Gavin. What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go? Can I go to your room?”

Gavin shakes his head. “Paul’s using it.”

I feel tears prick at my eyes as the noise coming from the table increases and Mikey starts to cry. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Will someone shut that bitch up?” Mike calls from across the room. “She’s killing my buzz.”

I look over at Mike as he snarls at me. I glare back at him and then smile. I can win this little battle. “Is Mike’s room free?” I ask Gavin.

“Yeah, of course, but...” Gavin is shaking his head.

“Too bad.”

I open the door to Mike’s room preparing myself for whatever sight might greet me. But I’m pleasantly surprised by how clean and neat his room is. His bed is made. There is not a single piece of clothing on the floor. Two guitar cases are lying closed on the floor under one of the windows. The curtains are open allowing the winter sun to warm the room.

“Come on Mikey. Let’s get into bed.”

I take off his shoes, socks and jumper. I check his temperature and as it’s normal I lay him down in the middle of the bed and pull the covers up over him. I close the curtains closest to the bed, but leave the smaller windows at the far end of the room uncovered to allow a little light in.

When I turn back to the bed, Mikey’s eyes are closed and he’s sucking his thumb. He looks so small and vulnerable, it makes my chest ache.

“Indsy, can I have a cuddle?”

“Of course you can, Mikey.” I slip my shoes off and pull the covers back. I lay down next to Mikey as he snuggles up next to me, taking a piece of my hair in his fist. He falls asleep within minutes.

It’s only a short time later that the music from the living room fades and I too feel my body surrender to sleep.

My stomach is so empty I feel sick. It’s churning and bubbling and it’s enough to wake me from my sleep.

Mikey is still asleep next to me. I have no idea what the time is but I feel rested. I must’ve been asleep for a while. I stretch out my legs and slowly move away from Mikey. I don’t want to wake him just yet. I want to make sure the obscenities from the living room are cleared before Mikey sees anything more.

As I begin to roll away, my leg brushes up against something - someone - and I look over my shoulder quickly.

Lying next to me, on his side, his head propped up by his hand is Mike. I freeze, my eyes locked with his. I lay perfectly still as he looks down at me. He’s tired. Or high. Or drunk. Or a good measure of all three. I’m too scared to move. I’ve broken his most important rule and I know I’m going to cop his full fury.

But he won’t do it while Mikey is asleep. The last thing he wants is for Mikey to be awake. So we both lay perfectly still, remaining perfectly silent as we look at each other.

“I’m sorry I raised my hand to you,” he whispers. His voice is low and his eyes don’t leave mine as he delivers his apology. His apology isn’t followed up by an excuse or explanation. It’s a sincere apology.

It is absolutely the last thing I expected him to say.

“I’m sorry I called you a bad father.” I’m not really sorry. I’m sorry I said it but I’m not sorry for thinking it.

“I deserved it, don’t you think?” He pushes the covers off him and gets out of bed. I watch him walk to the bathroom attached to his room and close the door behind him. Moments later, the water in the shower starts to run.

I get up from his bed and head downstairs to assess the damage, but the apartment is spotlessly clean. There is no sign of the debauchery that took place here only a few hours ago. It’s then that I realise that the sky outside is beginning to darken. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s five thirty in the afternoon. I’ve been asleep for almost six hours.

“Oh great,” I sigh. Mikey is going to be up all night. I’m going to be up all night.

On my way back to wake Mikey, I check our bedrooms. The beds have been freshly made and I wonder how I earth I slept through the noise of our apartment being serviced.

I’m preparing a quick dinner for Mikey and I when Mike comes downstairs and leaves without saying goodbye. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile. I’ve avoided a confrontation, for now.

Mikey and I eat dinner together and I’m reading a book to Mike when he starts to cry again.

He won’t tell me what’s wrong. I give him some pain relief which he takes without any persuasion. He also finishes the small cup of water I offer him.

But he will not stop crying.

I run him a bath but he kicks and screams and refuses to get in. I try to distract him by ordering a kids movie but he won’t watch it. He lies on the floor, his hands clenched into balls and has a full blown tantrum.

His irritable behaviour lasts for hours before finally, at one o’clock in the morning his body, in a state of absolute exhaustion, collapses onto the couch and he falls asleep. I contemplate carrying him to bed but I’m terrified that he’ll wake up and have another screaming episode. So I get the blanket from his bed and cover him with it.

I’m just about to join him when I hear the door to the apartment open. I hear talking and a girl laughs. I quickly run toward the door and stand in front of Mike, pressing my finger to my lips.

“Shhhh,” I hiss at him.

“Don’t tell me to be quiet...”

“Shut up,” I whisper to him. “Mikey...”

But it’s too late. Mikey has heard Mike’s voice and he starts crying again.

“Why isn’t he in bed?” Mike asks through clenched teeth.

“He’s been crying for hours and he fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to move him.”

Mike pushes past me, pulling a brunette behind him and goes straight up stairs. From my position, I see him enter Mikey’s room and close the door.

I spend the next three hours with a screaming, cranky child.

I’m semi conscious when I see the brunette leave. Ten minutes later, Mike appears. He’s dressed and is wearing sunglasses.

“I got no sleep,” he says.

“That makes three of us.”

Mikey is sitting on the floor playing with Duplo. He stopped crying about two hours ago, but I’ve been hit with toy cars and blocks and goodness knows what else. I even have a bruise on my arm from a bite.

“He seems happy enough,” Mike says.

“Yeah, for now.” I stand up from the couch. “Are you heading out this morning?”

“We’ve got a TV appearance this afternoon for the late show. We’re pre-recording it at midday.”

“What time are you leaving?”

“In an hour. Why do you care?”

“Can I leave you to keep an eye on Mikey while I have a shower?”

“Whatever,” he says, pulling orange juice from the fridge.

I’m massaging shampoo through my hair when I hear Mikey crying again. There’s a loud bang at the door, following by a rattle as the door handle moves. The door is locked, thank goodness, so it doesn’t open.

“Lyndsay. Open the door.”

“Can you wait a minute?”

“Open it now!” Mike yells out followed by two sharp bangs on the door.

I get out of the shower, my hair still coated in foam, and put on a robe. I wrap my soapy hair in a towel and open the bathroom door.

“He’s crying again,” Mike says as he pushes Mikey toward me. He turns and walks away.

I shut the bathroom door and look down at Mikey. He is tired beyond words and looks pale.

“Is your tummy hurting?” I ask for what feels like the thousandth time since leaving hospital.

He shakes his head. “Mike won’t play with me.”

Anger instantly fills me. Anger and frustration and suddenly I feel so tired and my head is thumping. I leave Mikey in the bathroom and head down toward the living are.

“What the hell is your problem?” I yell at Mike, who is standing out on the balcony smoking.

“My problem? I don’t have a problem.”

“You can’t play with your son for ten minutes so I can shower in peace?”

“He wants to play hide and seek. I don’t want to.”

“He’s four years old Mike.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to hide anyway?”

“It’s a bloody penthouse apartment. There are hundreds of places to hide.”

“Then why don’t you go sit in one and shut up. Stop hassling me about the kid. What am I paying you for anyway?”

I start to walk away but then I turn back. “You need to find someone else to look after Mikey. I can’t do it anymore.” I turn around and bump into Mikey.

“Indsy, are you leaving me too?” His brown eyes are wide and wet as he looks up at me.

Mike comes in from the balcony and waits for my answer. When I don’t say anything he answers for me. “She’s not going anywhere.” He walks past me and leaves the apartment.

*****

Something is not right with Mikey. Besides his irritability, he is developing small red marks on his neck. I phone the hospital and they tell me to come straight down.

The band is performing tonight, so I know there’s no point calling Mike or Wayne or Gavin. So I call a taxi and go to the hospital.

We wait for ages in emergency, Mike cries and pulls my hair and screams and the nurses give me funny looks but give other patients priority over us.

Finally, we’re called in and Mikey is put onto a bed. Only he doesn’t want to lie or sit down and he stands up on the bed and starts jumping.

“He’s not normally like this,” I explain to the nurse, who is pursing her lips at me.