Discovering Stella (38 page)

“Lawson,
it’s
me,”
Vicky sobbed. “Please
don’t
hang
up.
Please just listen.
I’m
at your
workshop,
and I need your
help
...”

I knew the right thing to do was to tell
her
it
was me and that Lawson was
busy,
but
like I said,
shifty
had taken
over
and I wanted nothing
more
than
to know what she had to
say,
so I stayed quiet and listened.

“I
can’t
do this any
more.
I’ve
tried.
I’ve
tried to get clean.
I’ve
tried to be
better, but
I’m
not
and I
can’t.
I
...
I just
can’t
do this any
more,”
she cried. “Lawson, I need you. Please!”

I battled with the decision whether to confess that
her
pleas were
not
being heard by who she intended, instead being heard by me. On the
one
hand, I was pissed off by
her
audacity,
ringing
my
boyfriend — a man she’d betrayed — to beg
for
his
help.
On the other hand, she sounded incredibly
broken,
and
it
was
for
that reason, and that reason alone, that I chose to
relent
and inform
her
it
was me
on
the other
end
of the
phone.

“Vicky,
it’s
Stella. Lawson is busy right
now.
I’m
sorry.”

Silence took
hold;
her
pain-filled sobs ceased. And
it
was that
swift
nothingness, creating
an
eerie atmosphere, which had me suddenly concerned
for
her
safety.

“Vicky,
I —”

“I’m
done,”
she interrupted,
her
voice
devoid
of any
emotion.

Before I could say any
more,
she ended the call, and maybe
it
was
my
training
as
a nurse
or
just natural instinct,
but
whatever
it
was, I knew she was in trouble. I knew she was about to do something stupid.

Knowing there
wouldn’t
be much time, I threw
Lawson’s
phone
on
the bed, grabbed mine, together with
my
car
keys, and headed
out
the
door,
shouting, “I’ll be back in a
minute.”

For
the duration of the drive to Knight Repairs —
approxi
mately six minutes — the sick feeling in
my
stomach escalated.
As
I pulled
into
the
driveway,
my
phone
rang. I fumbled with the swipe screen and managed to accept the
call
as
I exited the
car
and jogged toward the
front
office.

“Hello,”
I answered a little breathlessly.

“Princess, what the fuck? Where’d
you
go?”

“Lawson,
I’m
at your
workshop.
Vicky called when
you
were in the
shower.
She
said she was
here
and
couldn’t
do this any
more.
She
sounded
terrible,”
I explained
quickly,
finding the office door locked when I turned the handle. “Shit!”

“What?”

“Your
office is
locked.”
I peeked through the window and saw Vicky lying
on
the
floor.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!
She’s
having a seizure. Lawson,
how
the hell do I get in?” I asked in a panic.

“Fuck!
I’m
on my
way.”

“No!
We
don’t
have time.
How
did she get in?”

“She
has a
key. Try
the
side
gate, she —”

“Okay,
I’m
hanging
up.
Call
triple zero. I think
she’s
over-
dosed,
but
I’m
not
sure. And
call
the town
doctor,
too.
He’ll get
here
quicker
than
the ambulance will.” I hung
up,
not
giving him the chance to respond.
My
priority was getting to Vicky
as
quickly
as
I could.

Love is sacrifice

“Fuck!” I cursed
out loud
as
Stella disconnected the
call.
“Shit!” Grabbing the keys to
my
Ute, I immediately dialled 000.

“You
have dialled triple zero
emergency.
Do
you
need police, fire and rescue,
or
ambulance?” the operator asked in a calm-as-fuck
voice.

“Ambulance. I need
an
ambulance.”

“What is the
emergency,
sir?”

“My
ex-girlfriend is having a seizure
...
or
something.”

“Is she conscious?”

“I
don’t
know.
I’m
not
with
her.
My
girlfriend is.
She
said she
thinks
she’s
had
an
overdose
and
told
me to
call
an
ambulance. Please, just send
one
to Knight Repairs in Pittstown, Victoria,
as
soon
as
possible,”
I said
as
quickly
as
possible and hung up the
phone.
For fuck’s sake, just hurry the fuck up.
I knew I
shouldn’t
have disconnected,
but
I
didn’t
have time
for
this shit, and Stella had
told
me to
call
Dr Simms
as
well.

*
 
*
 
*

When I arrived at the
workshop,
I found Stella kneeling
on
the floor next to
Vicky,
supporting
her
while
Vic
lay
on
her
side.

“What happened?” I asked, jogging
into
the room and kneeling down beside them both. Vicky was
as
pale
as
a ghost and unconscious — she looked dead.
Fuck, no!
Vic!

“Is she ali—” I began to ask when Stella cut me off.

“Yes,
but
her
breathing is shallow and
her
pulse is very weak.
Did you
call
the doctor? Please tell me
he’s
on
the
way.
I’m
assuming the nearest ambulance to respond
will
be in
Shep
...
unless they send a chopper?”

“I
don’t
know,
but
I
told
them what
you
said. And yes, I called Dr Simms. He’ll be
here
any
second.”
I
couldn’t
remove my
stare from
Vicky’s
lifeless face. “Fuck! I
didn’t
think she would do this. I
didn’t
think she was this
bad.”

“It’s
not
your fault, Lawson. Methamphetamines mess with your head. Vicky stopped being Vicky when she started
using.”
Stella leaned down and placed
her
ear
to
Vicky’s
mouth,
then took
her
pulse.

“Lawson! Where are you?” Dr Simms called
out.

I turned toward the
door.
“In the office! Hurry!
She’s
not
breathing
well.”

Dr Anthony Simms was
an
elderly gentleman and had been the town GP
for
as
long
as
I could
remember.
He’d diagnosed
Mum’s
cancer and was a wonderful support,
not
only to Mum,
but
also to Meg and me when Mum took
her
turn
for
the worse.
As
he
entered
the
room,
his face was flushed pink and his reading glasses were askew. He’d also formed a few beads of sweat across his balding head.

“Oh,
Victoria, what have
you
done
to yourself?” he asked
sadly,
rounding
my
desk and placing his medical bag
on
the
floor.

I watched in saddened disbelief
as
Dr Simms and Stella tended to
Vicky,
hoping, no
...
praying
that
Vic
would pull through and get the
help
she obviously needed. Despite everything that we’d been through, I wanted nothing
more
than
for
her
to be
happy,
healthy and drug-free.

*
 
*
 
*

Sometime after Dr Simms showed
up,
an
ambulance arrived, followed by Constable Andrews. Stella and I gave him a brief rundown of the events leading up to and succeeding
Vicky’s
overdose, before the ambulance took
her
to the Shepparton District Hospital. The paramedics
wouldn’t
tell me shit when they pushed the gurney
into
the van, so I decided to follow them in
my
Ute
in the hope I’d
gain
more
information at the hospital. Stella
wasn’t
too keen
on
the idea and tried reassuring me by
say
ing that she was confident Vicky would be
okay,
and that going to the hospital
wouldn’t
result in me obtaining any further info because I
wasn’t
her
next of kin.
But
despite
knowing she was
probably
right, I
couldn’t
just let
Vic
go there
on
her
own. Plus, I felt a little responsible
for
her
overdose
and wanted to make sure she did pull through.

Stella agreed to come with me in the end,
but
I sensed she was pissed about it. The last thing I needed was having to deal with
her
mood. I just
didn’t
have the energy
for
it, so I figured
her
shitty reluctance would have to wait until later when
my
brain
wasn’t
so fucking fried from the drama
it
had dealt with.

During the drive
into Shep,
Stella’s phone
had been ringing
on
and off. I’d recognised
Julia’s
ringtone,
but
there were another two I
wasn’t
familiar
with. When I’d asked
her
who was
trying
to call, she’d brushed me off and said she had
more
important issues to concentrate
on,
like
Vicky,
and the official police report she was going to have to give. I
didn’t
argue.
Even
with
my
brain working at near zero capacity, I was still smart enough to leave
her
alone.

When we arrived at the hospital, a nurse directed us to a
wait
ing area and politely explained that a doctor would fill us in
on
Vicky’s
condition
as
soon
as
they were able,
but
that
it
could be a while. Nearly
an
hour
later,
that
while
was still going strong.

“Stella, come
sit
down.
You
haven’t
stopped moving around this room since we got
here,”
I stated with concern.

Soon after arriving at the hospital,
it
had become increasingly clear that Stella was highly uncomfortable being
here.
She
couldn’t
sit
still
for
longer
than
a minute and appeared to be trying to keep herself occupied with pointless crap, like reading the Quit Smoking pamphlets.

I stood up and placed
my
hands
on
her
shoulders, holding
her
still. “What’s wrong? Clearly something is bothering
you.”

“I
just
don’t
want to be
here.
I
don’t
like
hospitals,”
she answered, avoiding eye contact.

I
couldn’t
help
it; I let
out
a mild sarcastic laugh.
“You
used to
work
in
one. How
bad
can
it
be?”

She
shook
my
grip
on
her
shoulders loose.
“It’s
not funny.
I’m
going to go wait in the
car.”
Stella then proceeded to head
out
of
the room at the same time
as
the doctor entered.

“I
understand
you
were both with Ms
Stapleton
when she
overdosed,”
he stated, gesturing
for
us both to take a seat
on
the waiting room lounge.

Stella stopped and took a seat, refusing to look at me.
Her
mood was starting to piss me
off,
so I sat next to
her
and focussed
on
the
doctor.
“No,
we
weren’t.
She’d already taken the meth before we arrived.”

“Right,” he said, nodding his head.
“Well,
had
it
not
been
for
...
you
are Mrs Munroe, are
you
not?” he asked Stella.
Mrs Munroe? Who the fuck is Mrs Munroe?

She
stiffened, the colour draining from
her
face
as
if
it
had been sucked right
out
of
her.
When neither of us answered, the doctor flicked through his notes with a confused expression.
“Sorry,
it
says
here
in
my
notes, from the interim police report
you
gave Constable Andrews, that Mrs Estelle Munroe was first at the scene and performed initial first aid
on
the patient?”

Holy shit! Of course, Stella’s legal — and married name — is Estelle Munroe.

“Yes,”
she croaked
out,
“yes,
sorry.
I’m
Estelle, I just
don’t
go by that name any
more.
Please,
call
me
Stella.”

“Certainly.
Sorry,
Stella. I just wanted to inform
you
that the excellent and
proficient
first aid
you
delivered to Ms
Stapleton
was what most likely saved
her
life,”
he explained with a
compli
mentary smile.
“Unfortunately,
as
neither of
you
are
her
next of kin, I
am
unable to share any further details.
But
I
can
tell
you
that
her
condition is currently
stable.”

“Thank
you,”
Stella said, standing
up,
“we
appreciate
it
and
don’t
want to take up any
more
of your valuable
time.”
The smile she then gave the doctor before turning to leave the room was
as
fake
as
Pamela
Anderson’s
tits. What was also bogus was
her
fucking attitude.

“I’m
sorry,
she’s
had a rough
day,”
I quickly explained before heading
out
of the room in pursuit. “Stella! Stella, wait!”

She
didn’t
stop.

I practically had to run
an
Olympic
100-metre sprint in
world
record time to catch up to
her.
She
really was in a hurry to leave.
“Stella,”
I said, feeling a little
angry
and impatient
as
I
 
 
touched
her
shoulder to stop
her
from going any further. “What is wrong with you?”
She
shrugged off
my
hand
as
she had in the waiting room and
it
pissed me off further. “If this has anything to do with
you
being jealous of Vicky
calling
me, and me wanting to be
here for
her,
then
you
are being ridiculous,” I hissed
quietly,
aware that there were people in the corridors.
“You
have nothing to be jealous of and, quite fucking frankly,
you
...”