Chapter 47
I did text Oliver the next morning, but I was cool towards him. I had decided that it was up to him to make the first move. I wasn’t prepared to open myself to him and then be rebuffed. As the hours passed and I still hadn’t had a reply, I was resigned to the fact that he didn’t want to know me anymore. But I felt dreadfully miserable. My life seemed to have hit the buffers. Apart from Jane and Neeta, my best friends had deserted me. Or been taken from me.
And neither Jane nor Neeta were available to comfort and support me. Jane was cooing over her new nephew and Neeta was still on her honeymoon. I felt lonely; lonely and miserable. I wasn’t up to going out although I felt it would do me good. Where would I go? Wherever I went the memories of times there with my friends would only emphasise that I was alone. So I stayed in; I laid on the couch and watched some movies I’d seen a number of times before. They didn’t require concentration.
It was just after 4:00pm, the latest film I had been half watching had ended and I couldn’t be bothered to find something else. I was still depressed. When my mobile phone rang I almost jumped, it was so unexpected. I looked at the name on the caller display before deciding whether to answer it or not. ‘Oliver 2’ it said.
When I answered it, he immediately apologised. There was an eight hour time differential between Vancouver and England. He had not long woken up. He’d had a shower and dressed before looking at his phone. And he apologised too that it would have to be a short call. He was taking the boys to Hockey practice. They needed to try and maintain some sort of normality, but it was difficult.
There was no change in Harold’s condition. The coma was medically induced to give the swelling in his brain a chance to heal. The doctors weren’t prepared to speculate on how long they would keep him in a coma, and even less on what the prognosis would be. Oliver hardly talked about me. Or us. And then he said he really had to go. He would try and call me again another day.
Rather than making me feel pleased that he had called, I was left feeling frustrated and angry. He didn’t feel anything for me. That much was clear. Given the time difference, I doubted he would call again soon – if at all. He hadn’t said anything that suggested he missed me.
I went to bed early that night and slept fitfully. I had weird dreams; not really nightmares, but sad, none the less. And each time I went back to sleep, I woke to another sad dream. I couldn’t remember exactly what they were about; just the sense that the people in the dream were unhappy. And I was convinced that I hadn’t been in any of the dreams.
I woke the next morning, unrefreshed, with my bedclothes tangled round me. My mouth was parched and my tongue seemed rough. I went downstairs, made myself a cup of coffee and went back to bed. I turned the TV on but there was nothing to interest me. For want of something to do, I picked up my phone to see what was on Facebook. And that was when I saw I had one message. It was from Oliver.
“It’s just before midnight and it has been a harrowing day. The boys' hockey practice went badly as Chuck burst into tears when one of the others made a comment to him. I took Eleanor and the boys to see Harold this afternoon. Eleanor insisted she was OK, but one look at Harold and she collapsed. She ended up in hospital too, being checked out. She was let out at 6 this evening. Effectively, I have three invalids at home, all needing lots of support; all needing feeding. I’m exhausted. I need help but there is no one to provide it. Eleanor starts counselling on Monday. I will have to take her, but hopefully it will help. While I’m waiting I could call you if you would like me to. It would be about 6 to 6:30 your time. I really need some me time. Let me know if it will be OK. Sleep well O. X X X”
I reread the text twice. I liked the three kisses at the end. Maybe he did feel something for me after all. He would call me ‘if I wanted him to’. That was good too, except it sounded as though he needed cheering up. Was I up to that? I wanted him to cheer me up. Both Jane and Neeta were still away so I couldn’t talk it over with either of them. Granny Wise was dead, or I could have talked to her. I lay down in bed and considered what I was going to do.
After a few minutes, I had a strange, no weird, idea. I decided to talk to myself as if I was Granny Wise. It took a few minutes to think what she would say but then I began to talk aloud to myself.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a big girl. It’s to his credit he rushed to be with his sister when she needed him. And he has contacted you. He wants to talk to you.”
In my mind I argued that he wanted to talk to me not as his girlfriend, but as a therapist almost.
“He wants to talk to you because he feels comfortable with you. He’s under a great deal of stress.”
‘What can I say to him?’ I asked myself. ‘I’m no good at dispensing words of wisdom. That’s why I’m asking you.’
“You might not have to say anything. He may just want someone to talk to. And if he does want you to talk, just be honest with him. Say what feels right. Be there for him. Text him and say you look forward to his call.” I still prevaricated. I wasn’t ready to forgive him completely for waiting a week before he communicated with anyone, and then not with me but with Jane.
“How would you feel if Michael was shot? And Laura was distraught? You’d go to her immediately and would do everything you could for her, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t rest as long as there was something that needed doing. Your only thoughts would be for Laura, Michael and the boys. Just as his are for his sister and her family. You wouldn’t have time to think about your friends. Just as Oliver didn’t. Be there for him and he’ll appreciate it. Later. He’s a good man, as I’m sure you know. Now, send that text.”
I listened to what Granny Wise had said and felt relieved that I had done so. What she had said made me see sense. I sent the text immediately. And felt better for it. And then I smiled to myself. I had been talking to myself aloud. If anyone knew, they would think I had flipped. For a while, I had been Granny Wise – at least in my own head. And, I seemed to have been talking sense. Once I had stopped thinking just of myself, events seemed much clearer, and solutions easier.
I spent the day cleaning and washing. And was exhilarated by what I did. I had something to look forward to. And all the next day I was buzzing with excitement. Six o’clock couldn’t come too soon. I rushed home after work, changed into something sexy, and waited for the call. Oh how I wished he could see me. I was ready and waiting for him.
It was a few minutes after six when my phone rang. It had been very close at hand and I answered it after just one ring. “Do you mind me ringing?” he asked immediately. I told him I had been looking forward to it. “I have seen people who have been severely depressed – in my professional capacity – but I have never seen anyone as bad as Eleanor. I had to almost carry her into her therapist’s today. I have almost an hour's rest while she is with her counsellor and I really need some respite. I’ve had no time to myself since I arrived here.” He talked non-stop for maybe five minutes before he paused.
“And how are you?” he finally asked. I told him I was fine, but that I missed him. “I miss all my UK friends,” he told me. It didn’t make me feel special. I asked about Harold. “There is no change. The police have caught the two robbers and there is CCTV coverage of the incident. Public opinion seems to be split between those who think he was a hero and those who think he was a fool. Some of the press reports, and especially the TV reports, haven’t helped Eleanor. She doesn’t seem able to escape from them and each time it just makes the pain worse.” He talked at length about the boys, life in Canada, how he spent his days and what little sleep he was getting.
It was almost when Eleanor’s session was up when he said something that gave me hope. “Of all my UK friends, you were the only one I felt I could unload myself to. You always make me feel calm. You are the only one I would like to be near me in my time of crisis. Thank you. Thank you for listening to me. I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to you like this again, but I really would like to.” And then he rang off.
I couldn’t believe we had been on the phone for nearly three quarters of an hour. Time had gone so quickly. And I couldn’t believe how accurately my ‘Granny Wise’ conversation had been. But for that weird conversation, I might not have been content to let him talk so long without expecting much input from me. I was important to him. He put me ahead of everyone else in the list of people he wanted to talk to. Instead of feeling slighted, as I would previously have done, I felt pleased with myself. Pleased that I was able to be supportive; pleased that I was able to make life a little more bearable, even if only for a short time, and pleased that he would like me to be near him.
Of course, it was impossible. It was a pipe dream. Or was it? Wildly, I imagined myself rushing to Canada to be by his side, helping to share the burden of looking after everyone. I dismissed the idea, but it kept recurring. And I kept finding excuses. I couldn’t suddenly take time off work; what if I couldn’t get a flight? I didn’t have enough money for a flight. Did I need a visa to go to Canada? I knew Oliver had gone at a moment’s notice but maybe he’d been before and his visa was still valid. I was scared at travelling so far on my own. My only previous experience of going abroad was to Cyprus.
With all the arguments against going to see him, I let the matter drop. I had an early night and dreamt of him. We were running, hand-in-hand on a sandy beach. No one else was around. We skipped into the little waves that lapped upon the shore. I was happy. And then, suddenly, I was alone. I searched for him but he had just disappeared. I had almost given up hope of finding him when he reappeared. I was so happy. That was all I remembered.
When I awoke the next morning, there was another text message for me.
‘Just after 10pm and I’m exhausted. Thank you for listening to me earlier. You can’t begin to understand what it meant to me. Eleanor has daily sessions this week with her therapist, but it is 4pm our time, so I won’t call you. I’ll try and find some time earlier, even if it is only for a few minutes. I didn’t realise how much I miss you. Maybe I shouldn’t think of you so much. I need to concentrate on my invalids. O. X X X’
That day at work I told Jane briefly about the call and the text message. We couldn’t talk much at work because one of the other girls was sick and we were very busy. Jane suggested I went round to her place for dinner.
“I told you he still wants you,” she told me after I’d given a more detailed account of the phone call and showed her the text. “Midnight,” I explained when Simon asked what time it would be her at 4pm in Canada.
“Tell him to ring you anyway,” Simon told me. “If he is as stressed as he sounds, he needs someone to de-stress him, otherwise he will burn himself out and be no use to anyone. And that’s my medical opinion,” he added as if to emphasise the point. Jane agreed with him,
“I keep asking myself if I should offer to go to Canada and help him,” I said. “It won’t be a holiday, but I could help with the cleaning, cooking and other menial tasks that I think he’s doing by himself. It might give him some respite. But there seem too many obstacles.”
“What obstacles?” both Jane and Simon said in unison. I trotted out the difficulties I had thought of. They dismissed them all.
“From a purely medical perspective,” Simon continued, “I think it would do him the world of good. What it might do for your relationship, I’m not so sure. Speaking to you for an hour or so isn’t the same as being there 24/7 with each other, when one, or both of you, are stressed.”
“I disagree,” Jane interrupted. “I think it would help enhance a relationship. If, as I’m sure he will, he finds Rusty’s presence and help beneficial, it can only improve the feeling he obviously has for her. If, by taking responsibility for some of the important, but time consuming tasks, she makes his life easier, they might actually have some time together. And I don’t think seeing him again will do you any harm,” she added, turning to me. “Text him now,” Jane insisted. “Tell him you may not be able to talk to him every night, but every other night should be possible.
I sent the text. We chatted some more and then I went home.