Page 97 of Falling

40

Sky

Onto my thirdcup of coffee in half an hour, I flick through the news channels catching up on the news before I go to the hospital.

“Up already? Aren’t you tired after last night?” asks Dylan from the bedroom doorway.

I gesture at my coffee mug in response as I take in the ‘I’ll never get fed up of taking in’ sight of Dylan in just his jeans, the muscular lines of his chest, those abs, and that line of hair disappearing into… I blink.

“Aren’t you cold?” I throw him a discarded t-shirt from last night’s sofa sex—or was that this morning?

“I’m tired. Are you going to the hospital already?”

“You know I am; I can’t miss visiting hours,” I say defensively.

Dylan pulls the t-shirt on, mussing his hair as he does. How can Dylan look as sexy getting dressed as he does getting undressed? “I know, sorry. Do you want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “No way. I’ll tell the press outside the flat to wait for you to emerge later, should I?”

“Seriously? They’re still out there?”

After a week back at my place, the press presence is thinning. “Some of them left; I think they got bored.”

“They’re not the only ones.”

“Go back to the Morgan Mansion then!”

“Not until you’re ready.” We have this conversation daily and my answer is always the same. Of course, I want to move out of this crappy flat and take time out with Dylan to plan our next moves, but not yet.

“When Tara gets better, then I’ll go wherever you want. I’ll even let you pay.”

Dylan straightens. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.” I hope I know what I’m agreeing to.

“And do anything?”

“Within reason, Dylan.”

He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Like I’d make you do something, you don’t want to do. Indulge me; I’ve worked years for my holiday.”

Bizarre. Most people would see life in a famous rock band as one long holiday, although I’ve seen the reality. Dylan’s current holiday destination is my crappy flat in Bristol, sitting around while I visit my friend in hospital. I guess I owe him.

I wander over and slide a cold hand under his t-shirt. He winces as I run a finger down his stomach. “I’m going to see Tara. Clean up the flat while I’m gone,” I say and giggle. “Then you can pick me up from the hospital later.”

“Cheeky!” He slaps my backside as I turn and leave the flat, smiling at the normality in my world which will never be normal again.

* * *

Before Tara,hospitals were somewhere I rarely visited. Now the nurses, and even the cleaners, on her ward know me by my first name. Probably my connection to Dylan aids in that, but feeling ‘part of the family’ on an ICU isn’t a positive thing.

Tara woke up briefly while I was in the States, a big step in the right direction. She’s still heavily sedated and isn’t conscious often, and they haven’t been able to fully assess her brain for damage yet. This mars the huge relief I feel.

Today, our old school crowd arranged to get together and visit Tara. I promised Dylan I wouldn’t stay all day and he said he’d pick me up this afternoon, mostly because he doesn’t believe I’ll leave. Fair enough, because I do lose track of time when I’m at the hospital.

School friends, unfortunately, include Grant. Chloe and Simon hang around longer and we head to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. We sit and chat like we were back in the school cafe, rewinding our lives to back then. Reminiscing about teachers and teenage parties brought the old world closer as we passed a couple of hours, lost in memories. I rarely see the pair now I’ve split with Grant. We’d go with Chloe and Simon to pub quizzes, and spent a couple of holidays together in Ibiza. She’s cut her long hair into a bob, and Simon has put weight on. Despite the past being with us, we’re clearly different people now, and the gap left by Tara is felt.

Time passes quicker than we realise, and my phone beeps alerting me to a message from Dylan. This is the cue for others to check their phones and the ‘goodbyes’ follow. There’s something bittersweet in the fact we’ll catch up again next weekend, sit together with Tara if we manage to sneak past the nurses who only allow two of us at a time by her bed. We’re already organising a party for when she comes home because shewillcome home. She’s out of danger and time will tell what happens next.

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