Page 48 of When You're Gone

Nate wakes fully, and I suddenly feel his bare, warm chest press against my back and his arms fold over my shoulders, steadying me as we both stand and stare outside.

The blue lights flash persistently, but there’s no siren.

I break free from Nate and hurry into the hall, almost skidding on the tiles as I meet a paramedic in a bright green uniform at the bottom of the stairs.

‘What’s happened?’ I panic. ‘My grandmother. Where is she?’

The paramedic looks at me with kind eyes but his expression tells me nothing.

‘Holly,’ Nate says, suddenly behind me. ‘Here, put this on. It’s cold.’

I can’t move. I’m frozen to the spot. Nate drapes his favourite hoodie over my shoulders to cover my baggy T-shirt. He helps my arms in as if I’m a small child he has to dress.

‘My grandmother,’ I repeat, ‘Is she… is she…?’

‘We’re taking her to Saint Patrick’s Hospital in the city,’ the paramedic explains as he disappears out the front door towards the open ambulance.

I watch him closely as he hurries away. He’s about my age, a little older, I think. He’s soft spoken and professional. He doesn’t look like someone who sees death regularly. He doesn’t look like someone who gets called to the houses of the elderly in the middle of the night and watches them slip from this world into the next. He looks normal. Just like me. And for a moment, I want him to break from his professionalism and tell me that he has a grandmother he loves just as much, and that even though this is his job, he hates it because special grandmothers should live forever. Nothing should ever take them away from you. Nothing. Not even young paramedics in bright uniforms just doing their job.

‘Holly, your mam’s up there.’ Nate gathers my attention, tilting his head towards the top of the stairs, and I follow his stare.

My parents are standing on the landing outside Nana’s bedroom. My mother has one hand wrapped tightly around the railing and her other hand is across her chest holding her fluffy pink dressing gown closed. She stands hunched, her head low and pointing towards her toes like a question mark. My father stands behind her, rubbing gentle circles into her back, but her face tells me she’s not even aware he’s there.

‘Mam!’ I call out, the way I used to when I was a little girl and I’d fallen and cut my knee and the only comfort I wanted was a hug from my mother.

‘Holly.’ My mother raises her head, noticing me. ‘They’re taking Nana to the hospital. They’re taking her now.’

‘No. No. They can’t.’ I breathe. ‘Nana doesn’t want this. It’s not what she wants.’

Nate’s arm slips around my waist, and his fingers span my hip, steadying me.

‘Your grandmother has taken a bad turn.’ My father coughs in his best attempt to be calm.

‘I know how sick she is, Dad,’ I snap, unfairly. ‘Don’t we all?’

Everyone’s eyes drop to the floor and no one acknowledges what I’ve just said.

‘That’s it, careful now. Careful.’ Marcy’s voice carries out the door of Nana’s bedroom and travels down the stairs to reach me like a gentle hug.

The young paramedic dashes back inside, carrying a metal oxygen cylinder under his arm. He brushes past me and takes the stairs two steps at a time and disappears into Nana’s room. Seconds later, he reappears at the door. Marcy is there too and another older paramedic. The paramedics carry my grandmother out of her warm, safe bedroom, taking care not to tip her stretcher off the doorframe as they negotiate their way out the door.

My mother emits an odd noise as they pass her – shrill like an animal caught in a trap – and she turns her face into my father’s chest because she can’t bear to watch them go. My mother’s vulnerability startles me, and my knees buckle, but Nate grabs me, and I fall into him instead of onto the floor.

The paramedics make their way down the stairs with seemingly little effort. They almost make the difficult task appear mundane. Marcy follows them. My parents follow too, remaining a couple of steps behind. My father keeps his arm wrapped around my mother’s shaking shoulders to steady her. Telling her without words that he will always be there. If he lets go, I have no doubt that my mother will crumple and tumble all the way to the bottom step.

Nana lies peacefully on a flexible stretcher that seems to hug her frail body like a giant inflatable. She’s strapped in with her hands by her side, and I notice that her baby-pink nail varnish sparkles under the low-hanging hall chandelier. Her eyes are closed and the lines across her forehead seem softer and less pronounced than they were a few hours ago when I kissed her good night. I wonder what medication they gave her upstairs. Something strong, no doubt. I slowly accept that without bucketloads of pills, Nana would be in terrible pain.

‘Mam, please,’ I say. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t take Nana away from her home.’ I know if Nana leaves now, she will never come back.

‘That’s enough now, Holly,’ my father says sternly.

‘This way, Blair,’ Marcy says as she guides my mother into the back of the ambulance to sit next to Nana.

‘Aren’t you coming?’ my mother asks.

‘Three’s a crowd.’ Marcy shakes her head. ‘She’s in good hands, Blair. These guys know what they’re doing.’ Marcy smiles brightly at the older paramedic, and I can tell they are friends. They’ve probably met many times under similar circumstances. It’s all part of their job, but Marcy has a way of making us feel as though my grandmother is the most important patient she has ever cared for. Maybe it’s because she is. Nanaisspecial.

‘I’m here, Mammy. I’m here,’ I hear my mother say before the older paramedic closes the ambulance doors and they drive away.

---