Authors: Amanda Dick
Jack’s fist closed tight around the heart. So many memories. “You were wearing it that night.”
She leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I thought it was gone, lost forever, but Callum found it. It was in the car. He went to the scrap yard after it was towed, and there it was, hooked in the carpet. The chain was broken, but the heart was still there.”
The chain was broken.
Jack shuddered. It must’ve been ripped off her when the car rolled. Visions of that night came flooding back, sending a cold chill crawling up the back of his neck.
“When I realised that you weren’t coming home, I gave it back to Tom. I’m sorry – I just thought that he should have it. I couldn’t keep it – after you left, it didn’t feel right.”
The necklace was a symbol of the love he had abandoned. He understood, as much as it hurt.
“He would’ve been grateful.”
“I just felt like…” she sighed, “It was the right thing to do. It was your mother’s, after all.”
He opened his fist and stared at the necklace again, recalling vividly the night he had given it to Ally. It wasn’t big or expensive, but it was his mother’s, and it had sentimental value far beyond the resale.
“It was yours, after it was hers,” he said, looking over at her. “And I’d really like you to have it back.”
He walked towards her, holding the necklace gently, as if holding it too tightly would break it. His heart raced the same way it had when he had given it to her the first time, all those years ago.
“Are you sure?” she whispered, beautiful blue-green eyes shining.
“I’m sure.”
He unfastened the clasp and gently pushed her hair aside. His fingertips brushed against her skin as the pendant settled itself beneath the hollow of her neck.
“That’s better,” he said, as she slowly turned to face him.
She caressed the pendant gently, as if afraid it might disappear again. He reached up to do the same, capturing her fingers in his, the tiny gold heart safe behind both their hands.
Ally lay on the floor in her living room, a bundle of nerves. She checked her watch for the third time in five minutes, willing time to slow.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Callum said, rotating her right hip and leg slowly outward, then inward again.
She wasn’t so sure, now. Panic gripped her insides, twisting them as she stared at him, hoping he could see it so she wouldn’t have to say anything. He was so good at reading between the lines normally, why wasn’t it working now?
“I’m serious. You know you have to do this – you owe it to him and to yourself. Just try to relax.”
It wasn’t that easy, not with Jack making his way over to her house right at this minute. And here she was, lying on the floor while Callum bent and stretched her useless legs right in front of her, not that she could feel any of it.
Breathe!
“You invited him over, remember?” Callum reminded her, laying down her right leg and picking up her left.
In theory, it had seemed like the sensible thing. She couldn’t keep hiding the range-of-motion exercises from him forever. But in practice – actually inviting him over, so he could see – that was something else entirely.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“Sure you can.”
He made it sound so easy. Trust was a two-way street. Jack had been honest with her, and yet still she found it difficult to repay the courtesy. It would be easier if… well, it would be easier if it wasn’t this. The pool was bad enough, with the water and the swimsuit and there not being anywhere to hide. But this was different. At least at the pool she had some semblance of control. Lying on the floor, she was totally vulnerable.
This was a stupid idea. It could’ve waited, it doesn’t have to be now –
The knock at the door stopped her heart momentarily.
Callum raised his eyebrows at her, laying her leg down gently on the floor again. “For whom the bell tolls.”
He flashed a wry smile and stood up. As he left the room, she couldn’t even bring herself to beg him not to open it. She tried to relax but her body had other ideas. Every muscle was taught, making her feel like she was balancing on a knife edge.
Fight or flight?
She desperately wanted to disappear, but she could already hear Callum and Jack talking in the hallway. In a moment or two, it would be too late.
Fine. It’s no big deal. I can do this.
She laced her hands over her abdomen and waited, still trying to convince herself.
“So, how was your first day at work?” she heard Callum ask. “Monty can be a bit of a tough nut, but from what I’ve heard, he’s fair.”
“Yeah, he’s tough. And I’m still waiting on my final medical clearance, so it was just light stuff today, but it’s a job and I’m grateful. I’ll take whatever I can get – not like I can afford to be picky.”
Good. He sounds happy. That’ll help.
Her heart pounded so violently, she could feel every beat reverberate inside her chest.
“Sounds like you deserve a beer, then.”
“You read my mind. Where’s Ally?”
“Living room.”
Jack appeared in the doorway, smiling and relaxed. The exact opposite of how she was feeling. She smiled up at him from her place on the floor, but her face felt like clay.
“Hey,” he said, seemingly oblivious. “I’m not interrupting am I?”
“Hi. No, it’s okay.”
Which was a complete lie, but she found herself saying it anyway. She wanted to say something else - ask him how his day went, somehow distract him from what was happening, but the words just weren’t there.
“We’re almost done here,” Callum said, walking past him to kneel on the floor at her feet. “Grab yourself a beer from the fridge – sounds like you’ve earned it.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
Ally focused her attention on Callum, afraid to look at Jack. He must be able to feel this – the mood change, the strange shift in the air? Thankfully, he headed for the kitchen, giving her the opportunity to breathe again.
Callum had her right leg in his hands, pushing her knee up towards her stomach slowly. Their eyes met for a moment, and with a brief nod of his head, he tried to reassure her. Her emotions were so near the surface, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She became aware of Jack standing in the kitchen doorway, watching them. Callum glanced over at him briefly, and the silence in the room became even more uncomfortable. She wanted someone to ease the tension, but she knew it couldn’t be her. She was too busy concentrating on breathing to try anything as complicated as speaking.
What was he thinking? Was he just going to stand there and watch? Her skin tingled at the thought. Never had she had a stronger urge to get up and get the hell out.
Callum repeated the same movement a couple of times, and then switched to her left leg. Jack walked over to the armchair nearest him and sat down.
“So this is what the yoga mat is for?” he asked.
She stubbornly refused to look at him, but she saw him take a sip from his beer bottle out of the corner of her eye. Callum waited for her to answer him, but she couldn’t.
“Three times a week, twenty minute sessions,” he said instead, her voice of reason, her knight in shining armour.
Her hand formed into a fist and she consciously moved it upwards until it was sitting under her ribs. The pressure on her abdomen wasn’t enough. She needed to
feel it
there. It was important. It made her feel less vulnerable. She was grasping at straws and she knew it, but it was all she had right now.
“So what is it you’re doing, exactly?” Jack asked.
Hell no!
“I think we’re probably about done here, aren’t we?” she said, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
Game over.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows as Callum laid her leg down on the mat again, sitting back on his heels.
“I’ll go get a beer and take it outside,” he said, standing up. “I think you guys need to talk.”
Smooth. Thanks, traitor.
She glared at him as he left the room, directing all her frustrations at him, even though she knew it wasn’t his fault. Right now, she felt so lost, she barely recognised her own living room.
She pushed herself upright and sat there, staring at her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, wondering how she was going to explain this. Then Jack was sitting on the floor beside her, reaching over to rest his hand on hers.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
She stared at his hand on top of hers. Two weeks ago, she was holding his hand in the hospital, begging him to wake up. Now here he was, wanting to talk, and she had no idea what to say.
“Hey, talk to me,” he murmured.
Couldn’t he see? She was sitting on the floor wearing lycra exercise pants that should be tight and curve-hugging, but instead were loose-fitting and shapeless. He had just watched Callum throwing her legs around like they weren’t even attached to her body anymore. Couldn’t he
see?
“I can’t read your mind,” he said. “You need to talk to me. Please?”
Maybe it was just as well he couldn’t read her mind. It was such a mess in there, she was having enough trouble understanding it herself. She took a deep breath that seemed to rattle around inside her chest. Nothing she had planned to say came out of her mouth – none of the carefully prepared speech, explaining about the range-of-motion exercises and why she needed them. Instead, what came tumbling out were the fears and insecurities she had been hiding for so long.
“I think I knew it was serious, even before Callum and Tom told me what had happened,” she said, staring at his hand on hers. “I was so scared. I felt trapped inside my own body. I think I got over the whole unfairness of the situation pretty quickly, though. I remember thinking that freaking out about it was just making it hard on everyone else, so I had to just get on with it. But it took a lot longer to understand what living like this for the rest of my life really meant. Then one day, it just hit me – this is it, this is what it’s going to be like, always.”
She took a shuddering breath. Jack’s thumb stroked the side of her hand and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to organise her thoughts before continuing.
“It’s funny, you think about all the big things first, stuff you’ll never be able to do again – walking, running, climbing – the obvious stuff. But it’s the other stuff that takes longer to sink in. I’ll never walk down the aisle in a pretty white dress. I’ll never stand up in the shower. I’ll never be really, truly independent. That’s the stuff I really miss.”
Jack squeezed her hand and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She could feel the tears building behind her eyes. She had to get this over with, before she lost it completely.
“I need to stretch the muscles in my legs to stop them from permanently contracting. It’s not something I can do by myself, so Callum helps me. They’re called range-of-motion exercises. I really love him for learning to do this for me, but at the same time, I really hate them, y’know? It just makes me feel so… ”
Her breath caught in her throat and she tried hard to breathe normally.
“What?”
Helpless, vulnerable, useless, different – nothing she could bare to say aloud. Instead, she shrugged. She didn’t have the heart to try and change the subject. There didn’t seem to be any point anymore.
“So this is what you meant when you said that Callum helps you with massage and exercise?”
She nodded, sniffing back the tears she was determined she would not let fall, not this time.
“I can’t pretend I have the first clue how that feels.” He leaned closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe this is gonna come out all wrong, but I want to help. Because I see you as strong, capable, courageous, determined – anything but dependent. I really want to do something for you that’s not just you letting me help for the sake of making me feel better about it. I want to
really
help, Ally. I want to be part of your life, not just standing on the outside, watching. I’m not saying that I want Callum to step aside or anything, but I’d really like to be able to step in for him sometimes, with stuff like this, if it’s okay with you?”