Run to Me (15 page)

Matt laughs at my poor impersonation of The
Chief.

‘Hmm,’ he says. ‘So what happened with McFadden?’

‘Who knows? After a while it got too dark so I
couldn’t see anything out the window. Don’t know what he’s playing at though.
Trying to intimidate me, I suppose, but what’s his game? Isn’t it enough to
pummel my face into the dirt?’

I can see Matt is taking this all in, and
thinking.

‘
Well
’, he begins slowly, ‘maybe he’s
worried you’ll beat him next time, so he’s trying to weird you out beforehand.’

‘Yeah and pigs’ll fly out of my arse to join the
circus.’

I roll my eyes and start yanking out the grass
next to me. McFadden drives me nuts, but there’s no way I could beat him. He’s
got ten kilos on me. And that’s all muscle.

‘I thought you were all for taking him down?’
asks Matt.

I shake my head.

‘I’d have to stoop pretty low to knock him out,’
I say.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I dunno. Like knee him in the balls or
something?’

Matt laughs, hard. ‘That
is
pretty low.
But who gives a toss? It’s only McFadden.’

We laugh together now, and I stop yanking out
the grass. I’d been thinking about the knee-to-the-balls shot all last night.
It drove me nuts knowing he’d been outside my place. A part of me wanted to
follow him home and beat the crap out of him, but I wasn’t sure I’d stand a chance.
It was one thing telling the boys I was up for round two, and another actually
getting the guts to go through with it. I was tough, sure, but he’d already
done me once. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t do me again.

Maybe The Chief is right. Maybe I am nothing but
a softie.

I ball my hands into fists and punch my thighs.

‘Damn it,’ I say under my breath.

Matt looks as my fists, and then at my face.
‘What?’

I shake my head and unclench my fingers. ‘The
Chief,’ I say with a shrug.

Matt sighs. ‘Listen, mate. Its bullshit what he
says and you know it. You can definitely take McFadden.’

‘Don’t be condescending or anything Matt.’

He stares at me but doesn’t take the bait.

‘All right. All right. Sorry,’ I say. ‘And
thanks, mate.’

‘It was just bad luck last time. He got that two
shot in before you’d even got your arms up.’

‘Yeah. Talk about a low blow, huh?’

‘Right. So you owe him one.’

I nod and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. I
look at my watch. Only ten minutes until the bell. And I’m hungry now. All this
talk about McFadden has worked up a decent appetite. I can’t last until morning
break.

‘Let’s go hit the canteen before second period,’
I say, climbing to my feet. Predicting Matt’s protests, I ruffle his hair and
say, ‘Betty’ll let us in, especially if you bat your eyelashes at her.’

***

Todd seems to avoid me during morning break. At
least, he’s not in the staff room while I’m there. I feel awful about running
out on him, but as soon as the tears started I couldn’t stand sitting there.
That pitying look on his face was enough to make me scream. I just couldn’t
take it, so I ran out and hid in the ladies toilets until second period.

I don’t know how long Todd sat there waiting for
me. If he waited at all. I just know that once I’d cried enough to break the
drought, washed my face, and emerged from the toilets, he was gone. I didn’t
mind, in fact I was relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to look him in the
eye again. But now I want a chance to explain. The chance to tell him that
nothing has happened. And nothing ever will. Paul and me...hell, there
is no
Paul and me. 

Five minutes before the end of break I decide to
go to Todd’s office. I can’t even think about my next lesson while I know he is
here, somewhere, wondering how his new friend could do something so hideous. I
walk quickly to the gym, keeping my head down and ignoring the few ‘Hi Mrs
Fox’s that are thrown my way. Just as I get to the gym’s entrance, where the
metal stairwell leads to the few remaining offices above the basketball courts,
Todd exits through the wooden door and starts to descend the stairs. The metal
creaks under his weight and it looks like it is bowing in the middle. He is
looking at some papers in his hands so he doesn’t even notice me until he’s
almost on top of me.

‘Oh. Abby. Hi.’

He shuffles the papers together and hugs them to
his chest with his right arm. He waits for me to speak.

‘Listen, Todd,’ I begin, but then my voice
falters. I feel the tears coming on again. Not here Abby, I tell myself. Hold
it together for Christ’s sake.

‘I’ve got to get to the office,’ he says and
starts to step past me. ‘Meeting with Peter Stewart about rugby uniforms. Thrilling
stuff. It’s a shame you can’t join us.’

He turns to walk away from me but I reach out
and clasp his forearm. Off to my left I hear snickering. I see a couple of
girls sail past us. One of them points at us, then whispers in her friend’s
ear. They both howl with laughter. I am instantly aware of how this would
appear to them. I let go of Todd’s arm. He is watching the girls go by and
hardly seems to notice I have relaxed my grip.

‘Abby, this isn’t the right...’

‘Nothing happened,’ I whisper, shaking my head
furiously. ‘Nothing
has
happened. Nothing
will
happen. I mean,
come on Todd. I know my position here. I know this is hideous, it’s
unimaginable, it’s...’

‘It’s
wrong
, Abby.’

‘I know, I know. Don’t you think I know that?
That’s why nothing has happened. It’s just feelings, that’s all.
Feelings
.
Nothing more.’

The bell rings. Todd stares at me for a long
time, and then sighs.

‘I really have to go,’ he says.

This time I let him walk away. I can’t say any
more. He’s got to know I’m telling the truth. He must do. I wouldn’t lie about
something so huge, but then again I didn’t think I was the kind of woman who’d
get herself into this situation in the first place. I shake my head and
silently chide myself. Get a grip Abby. There is no
situation
. There’s
just me, the teacher and Paul, the student. Nothing more.

I turn and race to my classroom. The last thing
I want to do now is see
him
but I have no choice. Year Twelve English is
always third on Wednesdays. As I reach the hallway to my room I see Reggie and
Matt sidling inside. Paul must be ahead of them. I slow down my pace and take a
few deep breaths. This’ll be fine, I say to myself. Nobody knows anything. Todd
isn’t here. Just go in there and teach your lesson.

I walk into the classroom and sit down at my
desk. Most of the students are still talking so they hardly notice me. I glance
up the back, to where he usually sits, but his desk is empty. I look at my
watch. The bell went five minutes ago. He’d better get here before ten past or
I’m obliged to give him detention. And if I’m the one handing it out, then I’m
the one who has to supervise it. Just what we need. A whole afternoon alone in
this classroom. I look at my watch again and pray he makes it on time.

The chattering is winding down but I don’t bother
silencing them. I’m too busy staring at the door, willing him to walk through
it. I don’t notice Matt until he is standing right in front of my desk. His
arms are crossed over his chest and he looks a bit shaken and pale.

‘Is everything OK, Matt? Do you need to go to
the sick bay? You don’t look too good.’

‘Um. Nah, Miss. I’ll be ok. It’s about Paul. Um.
His Dad had an accident at the building site so his Mum came to pick him up.
He’s at the hospital.’

I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.
I don’t know if it’s relief or sympathy. Either way, my heart is thumping
again. I nod at Matt and he turns and walks away. I sit for a minute and stare
at my desk. I feel my heart ache for Paul. I can almost see him wandering those
sterile hospital halls; his hair flopping into his face, his hands shoved deep
into his pockets. In my mind I reach out to him. In my mind, we stumble into a
hug.

‘Are you all right, Miss?’

I look up. Everyone is silent and they’re all
staring at me. I let my eyes fall to Matt, who stares at me for a long moment.
Like Todd, I can feel him reading me. But unlike Todd there is no pity in
Matt’s eyes. His expression is one of clear empathy. I nod at him and take
another deep breath.

‘OK everyone,’ I say, standing up. I can’t do
anything for Paul now, and I have a job to do. I pick up my copy of
Wuthering
Heights
and walk around to the front of the desk.

‘Back to our previous discussion. Who thinks Mr
Lockwood is a reliable narrator?’

Eleven

Mum’s a bloody mess on the way to the hospital.
The tears are pouring down her cheeks and dripping all over her shirt. She’s
too busy driving to blow her nose so the snot starts to run out and mix in with
the tears. She’s sniffing and carrying on, saying ‘my God, my God’ over and
over. I guess all the crying has momentarily blinded her because halfway
between school and the hospital she almost rear ends a bus.

‘Christ, Mum,’ I yell after we pull up within
inches of the bus. ‘Stop blubbering or that’ll be two accidents in one day.’

‘Ohh Paul,’ she moans and sniffs a giant load of
snot back up her nose. ‘What will we do? I can’t manage without your father.’

‘What do you mean you can’t manage? He’s not
dead. It’s just his leg, right? He’ll be out of work for a couple of weeks.
Tops.’

Mum pulls up at a red light and starts rooting
around in her handbag for some tissues. She blows her nose loudly and moans
again. ‘They wouldn’t tell me anything else over the phone, what do you think
that means? It can’t be good.’

The traffic starts to move and Mum starts
blubbering all over again.

‘There’s something else,’ she wails between
spurts of crying. ‘Something they’re not telling me. Something bad. I just know
it.’

I glance over at her. Shit, she’s an absolute
wreck. I didn’t realise she cared so much about The Chief. Actually, no.
He’s
the one who doesn’t give a crap. I shake my head and look out the window.

‘Pull yourself together, Mum,’ I say.

The car park at the hospital is one of those
multi-storey jobs and we drive around for ages looking for a space. We finally
nab a spot on the second to last storey.

‘Walk with me Paul,’ Mum says as we make our way
to the lifts. She’s holding her arm out to me and her face is all blotchy and
wet. The poor woman can hardly walk. I fall back in step beside her and let her
link her arm through mine. She manages a weak smile before the tears start up
again. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers.

By the time we get to Reception Mum’s got almost
her entire body weight leaning on me. The waiting room is a big sterile,
white-tiled area with rows and rows of blue plastic chairs. A T.V is mounted on
one wall and it’s playing Oprah or some shit like that and there are two or
three wooden tables all covered with magazines and newspapers. Other than that
the place is pretty bare, and it reeks of disinfectant. A bunch of people are
sitting around; some reading, some staring absentmindedly at the T.V. Every
single one of them looks bored to death.

As we stumble past I notice a few people staring
at us with looks of pity. With the way Mum’s behaving they probably think we’re
here to view a corpse or something. I want to explain about the leg but what’s
the point? They only look at us for a second and then glance away, embarrassed.

‘Mum. Here. Sit down.’

I push her onto one of the plastic chairs and head
over to the reception counter. There’s only one woman behind the desk and she’s
on the phone. The top of the counter comes up to my chest so I lean my elbows
against it and peer over. The desk is loaded with papers, and cardboard files,
and the woman is scribbling quickly on a notepad.

‘Thank you. Bye now,’ she says into the phone
and hangs up. Then she looks up to greet me. ‘Can I help you?’

I’m shocked at how wrinkly her face is. She’s
got to be older than my mum.

‘Um. Yeah. Hi. Um, they brought my dad in. Um.
He fell off a roof and he’s got a broken leg or something.’

‘Name?’

‘It’s Howard Beckett.’

‘Just a second.’ She swivels round in her chair
and starts typing something into a laptop. ‘Oh yes. Beckett. He’s in room 103,
but it says here I’m to page the doctor when the family arrives, so take a seat
OK. Who is with you?’

‘It’s just my mum. My sister’s on an excursion.’

She smirks at me. Like she needs to know where
Bianca is.

‘Just take a seat. And
relax
OK. The
doctor will be along to explain everything in a few minutes.’

She gives me her softest smile, like she’s
trying to calm my nerves. I turn back to the waiting area. Mum has pulled
herself together in the last few minutes and she is looking at me expectantly
as I walk over.

I drop into the seat next to her. ‘She’s paging
the doctor. He wants to come talk to us first.’

‘
What?
Why?
’ Mum’s eyes bulge
wide.

‘I don’t know, do I? But he’ll be here in a
couple of minutes.’

Lying on the chair next to me is someone’s
discarded newspaper. I pick it up and begin flicking through the sport section
while Mum busies herself by rummaging in her handbag again. Then she starts
muttering.

‘How long ago did I phone Bianca? Someone is
driving her back. It should take a couple of hours I suppose. Oh, she’s going
to be so worried. There was nothing I could tell her, other than the fall, I
didn’t know myself about his leg. She’s going to be worried sick. Maybe I
should go call her again. Or Paul, will you call her? Yes. Here. Take my phone.
Go call your sister.’

‘What?’ I say, looking down at the phone being
thrust at me. ‘Nah, you call her. I don’t want to...’

‘
Paul,
’ she says in her best mothering
voice.

‘Fine,’ I say, dumping the newspaper and yanking
the phone from her hand.

I wander back down the hallway and out the glass
sliding doors that say
Entrance
. Outside, a few people are standing
around smoking. I curse myself for leaving mine in my school bag. I hate having
to bot smokes but at least I’m at a hospital; people are more sympathetic here.
I pick a guy with black dreadlocks who is leaning back with one foot on the
wall.

‘Excuse me mate,’ I say as I approach him. ‘Do
you reckon I could bum a smoke?’

He looks me up and down, pausing briefly at my
school tie, then nods and chucks his pack at me.

‘Thanks mate.’ I pop a cig in my mouth and fish
out the lighter he’s left in there. After I’ve lit up I step forward and hand
it all back to him. I nod. ‘Thanks,’ I say again.

I smile at him but I hold his gaze too long. Next
thing it looks like he reckons I’m here for a chat too. He pushes himself off
the wall and points his cigarette at me.

‘What are you here for?’

I consider just going with it, chatting to the
poor guy. He doesn’t look too happy that’s for sure. But then I remember Mum.
And Bianca. I hold up Mum’s mobile for him to see.

‘Sorry mate. I’ve got to call my sister. Thanks
for the smoke though.’

I turn away and start searching the contacts for
Bianca’s number. She picks up on the first ring.

‘Mum? Mum, what’s happening? I tried calling.
Why’d you switch your phone off? How’s Dad?’

‘It’s me.’

‘Oh. Paul. Where are you? Where’s Mum? What’s
happening with Dad? Is he OK?’

‘I don’t know. We’re at the hospital, but we’ve
got to wait for a doctor to come talk to us. Mum wanted me to let you know.’ I
take a long drag on my cig and watch all the cars go by on the street beyond
the hospital grounds.

‘But don’t you know anything? How hurt is he? Is
he OK?’

‘Um. He broke his leg or something. That’s all
I’ve got.’

‘His leg? Which one? How bad is it? Can he
walk?’

‘For fuck’s sake Bianca. I’ve told you
everything I know.’

She lets out a loud sigh. ‘It’s OK for you Paul.
You’re there. Think about me. I’m stuck in this car and I don’t know what’s
going on. No one calls me, and Mum turns her bloody phone off.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Look. We can’t have the phone
on inside so you’ll just have to wait. I’m going to go. The doctor might be
here by now.’

‘Wait. Wait. Call me back after the doctor. And
tell Mum I’ll be there in like half an hour OK?’

‘Righto.’

‘Ohh. And Paul? Paul?’

‘Yeah. What?’

‘Tell Dad I love him.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Just do it.’

‘Piss off.’

‘
Fine.
Don’t
worry
about it.
Thanks for
nothing
.’

I stub out my cig on the pavement and head back
inside. Dreadlocks man is still smoking and he gives me the wassup nod as I
walk by. I smile and give him one right back. When I get back to the waiting
room there’s a tall guy in a white coat talking to Mum. He is so tall he is
towering head and shoulders over her. His hands are gesturing wildly as he
talks and Mum is nodding a lot. She sees me walk up and she holds her hand out
to me.

‘Oh Paul. You’re back. This is Doctor Miller.
Doctor, this is my son, Paul.’

‘Hello Paul,’ he says, extending his hand. He
smiles at me and his teeth are all wonky. His middle two on the top overlap and
his canines jut out so that it is impossible for him to make his lips touch.

‘Hi,’ I say, trying not to gawk at his rotten
teeth.

‘Doctor Miller was just telling me about your
father’s leg. He’s broken his right femur, is that right Doctor?’

Doctor Miller clears his throat. ‘Yes. Now your
father fell a long way, Paul. He is very, very lucky not to have fractured his
spine. Fortunately, he took the brunt of the fall on his side. Unfortunately,
this means he has broken his thigh bone up near the hip.’

I nod and Doctor Miller turns back to Mum.

‘It will require surgery to repair.’

Mum brings a hand to her chest. ‘Oh God.’

‘But it’s very routine Mrs Beckett. He’ll go
under general anaesthetic and the surgeons will implant a metal plate and
screws to mend the fracture.’

‘So he’s going to have some metal plate in his
leg from now on?’ I ask.

‘Yes, Paul.’

Mum lets out a sigh.

‘But this won’t restrict him very much at all. We’ll
do some physio with him while he’s here and he’ll have crutches to begin with.
But the bone only needs about two months to heal and after that he should be
back to normal. Of course, he’ll just have to be more careful in the future.’

‘Mmm,’ Mum says, nodding.

Doctor Miller reaches out and rests his hand on
Mum’s shoulder. ‘This is good news, Mrs Beckett. Your husband is very lucky.’

He turns to me and nods, making sure I fully
understand just how lucky The Chief is. I stare back at him but say nothing.

 ‘He’ll probably be going up to surgery in a
couple of hours but I can take you to see him now. OK?’

Mum nods and starts to gather her stuff. ‘Come
on, Paul. Let’s go see your father.’

I shake my head and hold up her phone. ‘Bianca’
is all I can manage before I turn and shoot out of there. I can hear Mum
calling after me, but I don’t turn back. I know I should go with her, but I
can’t make myself. I don’t want to see him. Not yet. So I head outside to see
if dreadlocks guy can spare another smoke.

***

Within minutes of the final bell, I’m in my car.
That image of Paul at the hospital has been in my mind all afternoon and what
I’m craving now is a long run. I know the isolation and the rhythm will clear
my head. It always does.

As I’m driving I go over my conversations with
Paul. He barely mentions his father and when he does it’s never good. No one at
the school, not even Peter Stewart, knew the details of the accident. All
Cynthia had been told was to call Paul to the office as his Mum was on her way.

I did ask Matt more about it after English, but
he is as much in the dark as everybody else.

‘I really don’t know, Miss,’ he said, ‘He’ll probably
call me later.’

I take the shortcut along Tate Street and pull
up in the driveway well before three thirty. I’ve got time to do my hour long
circuit this afternoon. I normally go around the park’s outer path twice, then
back over the bridge and through the tree-lined streets behind our place. On a
good day it takes me fifty minutes. On a bad, edging towards seventy-five. My
legs feel good, but I can tell my brain’s going to need a lot of time to switch
off. I could be looking at over an hour today.

I waste a few minutes searching for a clean pair
of socks, but I’m still out the door by a quarter to four. My new shoes feel
tight around my feet and I can’t wait to have them broken in. There’s still
four weeks until the May race. That’s plenty of time.

At the end of our street is a roundabout and I
have to wait for a few cars to pass. I run up and down on the spot so I don’t
lose my momentum. I’ve forgotten to take off my necklace and the pendant flicks
me on the chin as I move. Without stopping, I slip it over my head and jam it
into the tiny pouch on the back of my leggings, where I keep the house key.

Once I’m in the park I get into an easy rhythm. I
love the noise my shoes make on the gravel path. Each scrunch is like a voice
echoing in my head, driving me forward. Move, move, move, move. It’s
comforting.