Run to Me (16 page)

Off to my left, a group of kids throw a Frisbee
back and forth. One girl with short, red, spiky hair is laughing at the others
and clapping her hands together. As I pass she starts to dance, spinning and
twirling like a ballerina. She is so caught up in it that she is oblivious to
the Frisbee being thrown to her, and it smacks her directly in the forehead. I
look back over my shoulder to see her reaction and hear the other kids
chastising the young boy who threw the Frisbee.

‘Nice job doofus.’

‘Yeah, nice going, Paul.’

At the sound of that name I stumble a little, my
shoes scraping in the dirt and my knees banging together. I consider pulling up
into a walk but the runner in me objects. The voice in my head says, ‘Don’t
stop, don’t stop. Move, move, move.’ I take a deep breath and push myself on.
I’m already half way through my first lap of the park, there’s no point
stopping now.

But now Paul’s in my head. Who am I kidding?
He’s been there all day but now that I’ve been slapped in the face with his
name, images of him start to float through my mind. I picture him running
beside me, the sweat beginning to form a patch on the chest of his T-shirt. I
listen for his voice and he is with me, talking about nothing in particular but
every word seems to penetrate me.

I try to will Paul out of my mind by thinking of
Luke. I imagine our wedding day, how cute he looked in his tuxedo. But as soon
as he smiles at me his face disappears and is replaced by Paul’s forearms, as
he beats the gravel next to me. No matter what I do, Paul is running right
beside me. I can see him as clear as day and the whole thing gives me goose
bumps up and down my arms.

What is it about him? How has he gotten under my
skin? I can feel that tingling sensation in my stomach, the one I haven’t felt
with Luke for years. It’s that feeling of something new, something thrilling.
Like when I went skydiving, or my very first time in front of a class. It’s
that sense of fear mixed with excitement. Somehow you know that even though you
are scared beyond belief, this thing you fear is going to change your life in
undeniably powerful ways.   

I can’t deny this physical reaction. My mind is
telling me to pull myself together, to own up to just how irresponsible and
irrational this whole thing is. And yet, how can I ignore the thumping in my
chest? Or the nausea? These things I have no control over. This is desire
eating away at me. I know enough to know that for certain.

I want him. God help me, I want Paul Beckett.

Twelve

I hang around outside the hospital for a while.
Dreadlocks guy takes pity on me and gives me his last three cigs. I chain smoke
them as he tells me about his wife’s botched caesarean.

‘They didn’t even tell us what was happening. It
was almost like it was some kind of hassle to them. Like my wife and I are
nothing more than numbers on a chart. We’re not human and we don’t deserve a
straight answer.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Now they are both fighting off an infection
that could have been prevented, and I wouldn’t even know the details if I
hadn’t damn near accosted two doctors and an orderly.’

‘Serious?’

‘You bet. I was sick of being left in the dark
and I figured violence was something they couldn’t ignore.’

I imagine him grabbing hold of the doctor’s
white coat and screaming at the orderly.

‘So what did you do exactly?’

‘Just casually mentioned I’m a black belt and
that they were all making me very, very angry. Then I showed them the scar from
my knife wound by backing one doctor into the corner of the room and lifting my
shirt.’

I look him up and down. ‘Knife wound?’

‘Sure,’ he says, undoing the top two buttons on
his shirt and pulling it aside. He runs his fingers over his skin. ‘Yep. He got
me good. Went in about an inch and then dragged it to the left.’

Across his right bicep, just above his nipple,
is a jagged scar about ten centimetres long. The scar is raised up off the skin
and his flesh is kind of bubbly around it, like he was also burnt or something. 

‘Jesus, mate.’

‘I reckon. But you should see the number these
kooks have done on my wife. Hers is double the size and jagged as all hell.
It’s like they took a fucking chainsaw to her stomach.’

I take a long drag on my cig and nod. There’s
not much I can say about his wife. It’s a raw deal. He leans back against the
wall and does up his shirt. Then he holds out his hand.

‘I’m Leo, by the way.’

I shake his hand. ‘Paul.’

‘If we weren’t at a hospital I’d still say
something was bothering you. The way you’re chaining those cigarettes.’

I flick some ash onto the ground but it lands on
the toe of my shoe. ‘The old man is here,’ I say, shaking my foot. ‘He broke
his leg. They reckon he’s got to have surgery.’

‘You must be close, the two of you?’

‘Me and The Chief? You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘“The Chief”, huh?’

‘Yep.’

‘Ohh...’

Someone sighs loudly behind me. ‘There you are.’

Bianca is glaring at me with a definite scowl on
her face. She looks at the cig in my hand and rolls her eyes. Then she takes in
Leo, her eyes lingering on his locks.

‘They’re taking Dad for surgery. Don’t you want
to see him before?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well he wants to see you.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘
Paul
.’

‘Piss off Bianca. I’ll see him after.’

Bianca gives Leo the evil eye until finally he
clears his throat. ‘Paul mate,’ he says, holding out his hand again. ‘Nice to
meet you but I’ve got to run.’

‘Thanks for the smokes.’

‘No worries. Maybe see you around.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

He nods at Bianca and wanders back through the
sliding doors.

‘Nice going dipshit. We were talking you know.’

‘Dad’s having surgery Paul.
Surgery
. You
do get that right?’

‘He broke his fucking leg. It’s not like he’s
been stabbed or anything.’

Her face crinkles. ‘You’re the dipshit. This is
serious. He could get an infection, or have some reaction to the anaesthetic
or...’

‘You’ve been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy.’

‘How can you not even care?’

‘I do care. I care about finishing this
cigarette and enjoying the afternoon off school.’ I purposely blow a smoke ring
in her direction.

‘Fine. But I’m not telling him. You can explain
to him afterwards where you were.’

She turns and stomps off. I expect to feel
relieved but the second the doors slide closed behind her my guts start to
churn. I don’t want to see him. But Bianca’s right. Dealing with the aftermath
will be ten times worse then sucking it up and going in there now. I stamp my
cig out on the cement and run my fingers through my hair.

I can’t remember the room number so I stop at
the reception. An even older woman with grey hair and thick-rimmed glasses
points me down the hall to the left. As I walk down the hallway I try to
picture what he’ll look like. I’ve seen enough in the movies to know there’ll
be tubes and machines but will he be bruised up? Will there be blood?

I stop outside room 103. The door is open and I
can hear Bianca muttering on from inside the room. The Chief is responding with
‘hmm’ and ‘mmm’. I wonder if he’s in pain? Mum’s the first one to spot me.

‘Oh Paul. You’re here. Come in, come in,’ she
says, stretching out her arm to me.

Our eyes lock as soon as I’m in there. His seem
to narrow and he looks me up and down. He is lying kind of awkwardly on the
bed, propped up by a few pillows. He is hooked to a drip and his legs are
covered with one of those green plastic sheets.

‘So you are here,’ he says.

‘Here I am.’

We stare at each other.

Mum steps forward and puts her arm around my
shoulders. ‘Paul was great, weren’t you honey? I was a bit of a mess on the way
here, Howard. But Paul looked after me.’

I shake her arm loose. I hate it when she tries
to defend me. ‘I was outside.’

‘Smoking by the smell of you.’

I shrug. What’s he going to do about it?

‘Well they’ll be taking your father off to
surgery any moment. Doctor Miller said it should take a couple of hours. He
said maybe we should go home but I want to stay here...’

‘So do I.’

‘...and Bianca does too,’ says Mum, nodding.
‘But we do need to pick up some of your father’s things. Like his pyjamas and a
change of clothes. They’ve had to cut his work pants.’

‘You can take the bus home and ride your bike
back,’ says Bianca with a smirk.

Everyone is looking at me. So this is my
punishment. Now I become the errand boy.

‘You don’t mind, do you honey?’

Mum is gripping my forearm.

‘Just let me take the car.’

‘Over my dead body.’

‘Dad! Don’t say things like that.’

‘For fuck’s sake Bianca. He’s not dying.’

‘Every surgery has complications...’

‘So you’re a doctor now?’

‘Any fool knows that surgery is serious.’

‘Any fool who watches way too much T.V’

‘You are such an idiot!’

‘Speak for yourself.’

‘Stop it.’ The Chief clicks his fingers at us.
‘I’ve had enough of you two. Bianca quit being so melodramatic...’

I snort at her.

‘...and Paul you know damn well you’re not
taking the car. Now get out of here and do what your mother has asked.’

Bianca sticks her tongue out at me. 

‘Here,’ says Mum, handing me a couple of bucks.
‘For the bus. You’ve got keys?’

‘Yeah.’

‘OK. Now the overnight bag is in the top of our
wardrobe. Just bring his pjs and some jeans and a T-shirt. Better put in a
jumper. Oh, and his toothbrush. And toothpaste. And there’s a book on the
nightstand, isn’t there Howard? That one by that mountain climber. You haven’t
finished it yet?’

‘No.’

‘OK. Bring that too. And maybe a blanket. It
gets quite cold in these hospitals.’

‘Mum. Stop. I can’t carry the whole house back
on my bike.’

‘You’re right. You’re right. OK that’ll do for
now.’

Mum moves to give me a hug but then changes her
mind. Instead she pats me lightly on the arm.

‘Thank you,’ she says before turning back to
him.

As I’m leaving, I glance back at Bianca. She
flips me the bird.

***

Outside the park, just past the bridge, is a
slight dogleg in the road. I make it there after forty-five minutes. I’m way
off track for my bad-day-seventy-five-minute time. My thoughts of Paul and the
pumping of my heart seems to weigh me down and each step is becoming a
struggle. Up ahead, in the road, I can see some kid on a bike, zigzagging
through the curves. I say ‘kid’ but as I inch closer I realise he’s actually
quite tall. He is wearing ripped jeans and a Kings of Leon T-shirt and he is
carrying a small backpack that is bulging at the sides. The bag is loose around
his shoulders and every time he turns the bike it slips across his back and
dangles precariously in mid air.

I’m thinking of calling out to him when,
reaching a crossroads, he turns his head to look for oncoming traffic. He sees
me and his face breaks in to a wide smile. He lifts one hand off the handlebars
and waves at me. I pull up on the footpath next to him. I can feel myself
smiling straight back at him with equal enthusiasm.

‘Hi Paul.’

‘Hey Miss. What’s up?’

He dismounts his bike, drags it up the kerb and
lets it fall not so gracefully onto the cement. I feel like I’ve been caught in
the act; I know my face is flushed and it’s not from the running. Now that he
really is standing beside me it’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself.

‘Nice day for it,’ he says, indicating my
running clothes.

I look at his still-smiling face and almost
forget that I am meant to be getting this guy out of my head. Everything drains
away; Luke, the school, everything, and we’re just two innocent people talking
by the side of the road.

‘Sorry I had to miss class today.’

Shit.

‘Oh Paul. I forgot. I’m so sorry. How is your
father?’

He shrugs. ‘OK I guess. He broke his leg up
here,’ he pats his upper thigh, ‘and now he’s having surgery.’

‘Surgery? Why aren’t you at the hospital?’

He shifts his weight slightly so I get a good
view of the bulging backpack. He lets out a long sigh.

‘Had to pick up some stuff.’

I nod. ‘Right.’

‘Have you been to the park?’

‘Yeah. On the home stretch now.’

‘So you live round here?’

‘Um, yes. On Stamford Street.’ The second the
words leave my lips I wish I hadn’t said them. He shouldn’t know where I live.

‘OK. Yeah. I live way over by the stadium on
Fletcher.’

‘Really? Then why are you here? This isn’t the
easiest way to the hospital you know.’ I point behind me. ‘It’d be quicker for
you to head back here until you reach Madison and then...’

‘It’s OK Miss,’ he interrupts me. ‘I wanted to
take the long way round.’

He holds my gaze and I can see the anxiety in
his eyes. He looks defeated, as though he’s lost all of his strength in the
ninth round.

‘Are you all right, Paul? I mean with your
father and everything...’

He smirks and runs a hand through his hair.

‘Sure, no worries Miss. He’ll be out of action
for a little while. On crutches the doctor says. That’ll give him more time
around the house but hey, Mum’s going to love that.’

‘And what about you?’

He watches a car go by behind me and stares
after it for a long time. Then he crosses his arms.

‘What can I do about it?’

‘Well you can’t change the situation, but your
relationship with your father...’

‘Don’t say it’s under my control.’

‘But it is.’

‘You don’t know The Chief.’

‘He’s your father Paul. I’m sure he loves you.’

‘Ha!’ He lets his arms loose and shakes his
head. ‘You’ve sure as hell got the wrong end of the stick there.’

‘Do you love him?’

Paul looks down at his feet. ‘No way.’

‘But you love your mum? And I’m guessing she’ll
need you over the next few weeks. Your father will too.’

‘Why should I care about what
he
needs?
He doesn’t give a rats about me.’

Without thinking I reach out and rest my hand on
his forearm. It’s almost like there is an invisible laser beam drawing me to
him. One I can’t seem to ignore. His skin is rough under my hand and I can feel
his pulse throbbing out through his pores. He watches my hand for what seems
like forever and then brings his eyes up to look into mine. We stay like that
for a minute, just staring. I am too scared even to blink.

‘Abby,’ he says, placing his hand over my own.