The Thousand Smiles of Nicholas Goring (20 page)

There were monitors and other machines to either side of the bed, and Dr Williams was carefully considering one and taking notes on a clipboard. He finally looked up and said, "Come in, David. And Denise, isn't it? You can come in for a moment, too, if you wish. I hope you'll find Nicholas's condition reassuring."

"Yes," she said.

"He's pale," Dave blurted. And it was true. Under Nicholas's usual softly-burnished tan, he seemed utterly white. "Has he – Did he – lose a lot of blood or something?"

"Not so much that we had to give him a transfusion. The fluid –" Williams tapped his pen against the drip bag – "will not only keep him hydrated and nourished but also help him replenish his own stocks, as it were."

"He looks fine, all things considered," was Denise's verdict.

Dave was more hesitant. "Dunno. He looks … tired." Perhaps it took a husband's scrutiny to see that while Nicholas appeared to be resting peacefully, he still looked drawn as if having been through an ordeal. Which he had, after all.

"Are you going to be all right?" Denise asked Dave, obviously concerned.

"Of course I am. Hanging out with Nicholas … What else should I be doing?"

She grinned at him, and pressed a rare kiss to his cheek. "You're such a good bloke, Dave." Then she let him go. "Well. You know where I'll be if you need me. For anything, all right?"

"Anything at all," he agreed. And he managed to press a kiss to her cheek, too, before they parted.

Soon enough, Dave was sitting at Nicholas's bedside, and he was carefully shaping his own hand around Nicholas's, trying not to jar him or startle him. Dr Williams had beat a tactful retreat, and while the door to the room was open, Dave was pretty much alone with Nicholas. Still, it took him forever to find his voice.

"Hey, Nicholas," he finally murmured roughly, softly. "Hey, it's me. Dave – David. I guess – I guess if you can hear me, then you just heard Dr Williams telling me all over again to talk to you. Which is probably, like, the last thing you want, really. You probably just want to sleep quietly, don't you? So I'm not gonna keep this up all night, but I'll be here regardless, all right? I'll be here with you."

Dave sighed. "I've missed you. I've missed working things out with you. Isn't that crazy? I kept thinking, oh, if only I could talk to Nicholas about Nicholas being – well, being in surgery, for instance. Nicholas would have the right ideas about what to do. You know, about you. Being in surgery … Oh never mind, I don't even know what I was thinking, really."

A pause stretched into a silence. Surely he wasn't done already? Nah, he could manage more than that. He could at least get the easy stuff out of the way. "Um, so Robin wanted me to tell you how much he loves you, and he's sorry. I told him you loved him, and you were sorry, too. I know you wouldn't have wanted this happening while you and he were disagreeing, but I also know you've already forgiven each other and all that, so let's consider that sorted, yeah? And then I'll just need to convince Robin it's okay. I'm sure he'll see that once he's over the shock.

"Oh, and your father is on his way. He'll be on a plane already. I called Simon, and they were going to make sure Richard would be on the first possible flight. So you'll have your wish. D'you remember saying you wanted to see him? Right before all this happened. I guess maybe you felt it coming, did you? Anyway, he'll be here tomorrow evening. They're going to wake you up tomorrow morning, and you'll be able to see me and Robin, and then Richard will be here. I know that'll make you happy.

"I don't know if they'll let Denise and Vittorio in, not while you're still in the ICU, but they've been here all day with me. Denise is still here. She's going to sleep on the couch in the waiting room so she'll be here if we need her. I know you know they love you. They love you like family. You have to –"

Dave looked at his husband, the dark eyelashes casting a long shadow down those pale cheekbones. He'd have loved to reach up and brush fingertips across those plump pink lips, but didn't trust himself to be gentle enough. Perhaps it was only in his imagination – he should have checked with Dr Williams – but Dave thought any touch might reverberate through Nicholas and hurt him. When his very brain was tender, it seemed that any sensation at all would be too much.

Well, instead he could cradle Nicholas's hand, and keep talking, he supposed. Not that he could remember what he'd been going on about. "What else is there to talk about? God, it seems like forever ago, but it was only this morning when we were talking for real, and you were answering back. And I've missed you since then, I've missed you so much.

"But that's all right. I don't want you feeling bad about that. I guess you'll be in here for a few weeks, and of course I'll come visit you every day, but the nights are going to be so long without you, that bed of ours will feel so empty."

Dave made himself stop and regroup. "I should be talking about happier things. I should be giving you reasons to come back to me. If you need reasons."

And then he frowned over that for a while. Nicholas slept quietly, and the monitors hummed along. Dave did some hard thinking.

"Nicholas," he eventually said. "You once told me … It's a long time ago now, but it really struck me. Back when we were first together, it must have been, out at the waterhole. You once said that … that under some circumstances … you'd prefer to die."

Dave sighed, and let that sit between them.

"And, you know … it's not like I don't understand. I really do, actually. There are some situations where I'd be hoping that you – or Denise – would be brave enough to pull the plug. So, anyway, if that's what I'm meant to be talking to you about … Is it? I don't know. Maybe Dr Williams even … maybe he means for this to be me saying a proper goodbye to you. D'you think?"

Dave traced a careful fingertip along the back of Nicholas's hand, from each of the four knuckles to his wrist and back again. "Can you tell? From the inside, I mean. Can you tell how things are going to be? What you've lost and what you've kept." He took a breath, staring down at that beloved hand. "If you can tell already, and if you're sure it'll be unbearable for you … then I can be brave enough to let you go. I can. It'll be the hardest thing ever, but I'll do it. All right?"

Dave risked a glance up at that beautiful face, and wondered if he was imagining that Nicholas looked as if he were listening. Dave cleared his throat, and tried to continue – but couldn't until he'd dropped his gaze to Nicholas's hand again. "If you want to slip away … or if you want to stay asleep so long they give up on you … then I'll understand. I promise. I want what's best for you."

He let that sit between them, too. He wanted Nicholas to know – if indeed he was hearing any of this – that Dave was serious.

But then he took a deep breath and said, "If you want to stay, though, under any conditions at all, then God I'd give anything for that.
Anything.
I don't care, d'you hear? If you're not entirely the same man you used to be – I don't care. You'll always be Nicholas. You'll always be my husband. And I'll always want you in my life. I
promise
. No matter what."

Dave took off his glasses and put his head down then; he rested his forehead lightly against their joined hands, and perhaps he got a little more than damp-eyed for a while.

Finally, though, Dave found the wherewithal to lift his head and look lovingly at Nicholas, and even crack a wavering kind of smile. "Anyway, don't you remember? We have opals to find, and butterflies, too, and sunsets to watch. We've got family and friends to love, and people to share the Outback with, and our godchildren to have fun with and learn from – and then hand back at the end of the day. We've got each other to take care of, and love – I love you so much, you know – and oh God, there's plenty of sex to have, too. Or hey, there's plenty of kissing and cuddling to be done, even if … even if we can't –" He didn't follow that thought to its logical conclusion, for fear of Nicholas discovering another reason to slip away.

"And there's songs to be sung, and stories to be told, and there always will be. There's so much life we've yet to live, Nicholas. I mean, don't come back to me unless you really want to, but … d'you remember Monica Baldry made up that rap song about us?" And Dave softly sang, "
Nick is his man till death do us part; They got two bodies, one soul, they got one heart.
Wasn't that cool? That was just about the most perfect trip … And there'll be more like that, I reckon. I'd love to share them with you."

Dave soon found himself spinning a yarn about another awesome trip they might take, and all the adventures they might have, the wonders they might see. And then there was another one, and another, each more brilliant than the last, and there were beautiful butterflies to be found and there was sex to be had under the myriad stars, and the marvels of salt lakes and billabongs and cave paintings to visit. Dave talked himself into a stupor, until at last he couldn't help but lay his head down beside his hand joined to Nicholas's … and in his dreams they were holding hands, and they took flight together into a sky as beautiful as an opal, and they soared.

Dave woke confused and bleary with a crick in his neck and something buzzing that shouldn't be. A moment later he realised the latter was his phone, which he'd switched to silent and vibrate, before stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

He carefully lifted his head, and turned a hopeful gaze on Nicholas. There seemed little change, though maybe Nicholas wasn't quite as pale as Dave had expected, maybe he was a little less puffy. A harder look made him think he might be imagining it, but his first impression had been a surprise. Nicholas was still asleep, was still looking untroubled. At least, Dave figured, he wasn't in pain, and that wasn't such a bad bottom line.

His phone started buzzing again, so he hauled it out – glancing towards the corridor a tad guiltily, though there were no witnesses, or none that were conscious, and anyway he'd wanted to be available if Denise or Simon needed him. Dave answered the call – "H'lo" – without checking the display.

"Davey, it's Charlie."

"H'lo, Charlie." Dave looked around at the window, and judged from the paling darkness that it was almost dawn. "Always the early bird, you," he said fondly.

"How is he, mate?"

Dave looked his husband again. "Still asleep. I was, too. Um, he looks kinda the same as last night. At first I thought there's a bit more colour to him, but maybe that's wishful thinking."

"Okay, good. So he's hanging in there."

"Yeah. I guess they'd – they'd have woken me, wouldn't they? If there was anything to tell me. I must have been out of it for two or three hours."

"I've got a song for him, all right, mate? A healing song."

The light outside warmed a little.

"Davey?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Yeah, okay. That's good."

"It's as close as I can tell to his Dreaming. Robin?" Charlie asked. "What do I do with this now?"

"What?" Dave asked, still struggling to wake up properly. "You're at Maria's, Charlie?"

"Nah, I've just got Robin on the other line. It's a convention call, or something. Hang on a sec."

"
Conference
call, Charlie," came Robin's voice. "Morning, Uncle David. Did you tell Nicholas for me?"

"Yeah, I told him, mate," Dave gently replied.

"Good." Then Robin went through a few instructions for Charlie about swiping and tapping and such, all of which was Greek to Dave who still had the old-fashioned kind of keyboard phone.

Not too long after, an Aboriginal chant began in Dave's ear, accompanied by the percussive beat of clapsticks. It was a mesmerising sound, and while it felt changeless it was also strangely hopeful. The same long refrain repeated again and then again – or maybe Charlie just had it on a loop – and in any case it felt oddly familiar to Dave. Before he'd even heard it through once he was already humming along, and after a while he held the phone at a slight distance so perhaps Nicholas could hear something of it, too. Dave began quietly chanting. He didn't understand the words, but he recognised the sort of sounds they made, the vowels and the consonants, and he could copy that well enough.

After a time, Robin said, "Uncle David? If I talk Charlie through sending you the sound file, can you play it to Nicholas, do you think?"

"I guess," Dave replied. "But he's hearing it now, and I'm singing it to him."

"That's enough," said Charlie. "That's everything he needs."

It was fully light outside when Dr Williams appeared not long after, walking in to find Dave chanting softly to Nicholas, trying to sound both soothing and encouraging – though he stopped abruptly as soon as he realised they had company, of course.

The doctor smiled, and said, "That sounded nice."

"It's a healing song, apparently. Something to do with Nicholas's Dreaming. I think he has Butterfly Dreaming."

"Excellent." The doctor checked the various machines and charts, and studied Nicholas himself in between times. Then he made some notes on his clipboard.

Dave wasn't feeling very patient, however. "Is he doing all right?"

Dr Williams smiled at him. "What do you think?"

"Well," said Dave, considering Nicholas again. "He seems pretty much the same to me. Maybe not quite as pale?"

"I thought so, too." Williams studied Nicholas some more – then announced, "We'll try letting him wake up later this morning. Why don't you go tell Denise the good news, and the two of you can have some breakfast. Take your time, there's no rush."

Dave nodded, though he asked, "Then I can come back, right?"

"Of course, David. Then you can come back."

By the time Dave returned, though, something was very different. Dave's heart thudded hard when he realised.

Nicholas was scowling. Rather blearily, it was true, but Dr Williams was sitting by the bed talking quietly, and Nicholas was scowling, looking oddly restless for someone who was barely even moving his face.