Crashing Down (8 page)

Lucy shrugs and slides into the chair.
Make it all go away,
she wants to say. This is a nightmare. ‘Yeah.
Nah.' She shrugs again and blinks; she doesn't want to cry.

‘But he knows you. No?' Mrs K says. ‘He sees you. I see his face. It changed. He knows you, Lucinda.'

Lucy shakes her head. ‘He does know me,' she says, ‘but something's wrong.'

‘Wrong?' her mum asks. ‘What do you mean?'

‘He's totally paranoid. He thinks there's some type of conspiracy, or something. He thinks he's a prisoner. He thinks …' — she recalls as much of the conversation as she can — ‘that years have gone by. That this is, like, in the future.'

‘Oh dear,' her mum says. ‘What did he say to you? Did he get angry?'

‘No.' She retells as much as she can remember, each word giving the weirdness an odd reality. ‘He didn't get mad. He got sad. He cried.'

‘No. Not my Carlo.' Mrs K allows the never-ending tears to roll. ‘My boy never cries.'

‘Well, he did.' Lucy looks up as Mr K approaches.

‘Carl remembers you?' he asks.

‘Yeah, he remembers me, but he's pretty confused.'

‘He remembers you. That's the important thing.'
Mr K looks elated. ‘The doctors said he might not remember anyone again. But if he remembers you, that's good. It means he can get better now. Thank God. I'll go to him.'

Lucy nods; she feels exhausted.

She goes to the coffee shop and grabs a water for Carl and a latte for herself. As she nears Carl's room, she hears loud voices. Not again, she thinks. She approaches the curtain cautiously and pulls it back. Mr Kapuletti is seated next to the bed, looking up at Carl who is glowering at him. The hard, eyeless face boring holes into Mr K. Lucy grips the curtain.

‘Carl, Lucy
has
been to see you.' Mr K sounds imploring.

‘I've told you already. I don't know why you tell me the same things all the time. She hasn't been in. I haven't seen her for ages.' Carl spits the words at his father.

‘Mother Mary,' Mr K says. ‘We may have to let them test your head.'

‘What!' Carl roars and makes to launch at his father, but he is restrained by the leather straps. ‘You tell your God-bothering friends, Father, that you won't touch my head. One opportunity and I'll take
the lot of you down.'

He glances over to where Lucy hovers in the doorway. ‘Lucy!' His tone is immediately softer. ‘There you are. I was just talking to the Father about you. Been a long time, hey?' That sleazy tone is back.

Lucy finds herself nodding.

Carl looks at his dad. ‘Go on, then, Father. Fuck off. Mother is waiting for you. Go bore her.'

Lucy's hand flies to her mouth. She watches Mr K rise like a broken man from the chair. He touches her elbow as he passes, his face a crumpled mass of misery. From the bed Carl growls like a dog, like he was growling when she first arrived, and it makes her nervous. He's so unpredictable. So volatile. She sits next to him.

‘Where have you been?' he asks, his tone soft, almost sulking. ‘I've been waiting and waiting. That fucking priest won't leave me alone. I can't stand this place.' He glances at the ceiling, blinking tears.

‘What priest?' His tears are more upsetting than his rages. This is not her Carl — this is someone completely different.

‘The bald dude.' Carl points at the doorway. ‘The one who just left.'

‘That's your dad!' Lucy says in horror. ‘Don't you recognise him?'

‘My dad?' Carl frowns, his black eyes searching her face. ‘Thought he looked familiar. Thought I'd seen him before. But it's this place. They're messing with my head. He told me they were. Why would my dad say that?'

He looks so confused. Lucy can't bear it.

‘Carl, you've had an accident. You've hit your head pretty badly. They're trying to fix it. You keep forgetting things.' Lucy takes his hand gently, noticing where the leather strap has bitten into his skin. ‘You look really tired.'

‘I am,' he agrees. ‘I've been here so long. Nothing changes. The interrogations are the worst. The questions they ask me. It's relentless and I don't know what they want. I thought for a while it was you they were after. But you're here. So it can't be.' He is starting to ramble and whisper, glancing around.

‘Carl,' Lucy begins, but he interrupts her.

‘Shhhh,' he says, ‘someone's coming. I need a knife — something.'

‘Carl!' Lucy shouts. ‘You're safe, you don't need anything.'

He narrows his eyes at her. ‘That's easy for you to say,' he hisses, ‘you're not being held prisoner.' He looks around wildly. ‘Pass me that pen, my stupid hand won't pick it up.'

‘No,' Lucy says firmly, despite her terror. What is the right thing to say to him? What will or won't tip him over the edge? She breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Mrs K in the doorway.

‘Who are you?' Carl asks, narrowing his eyes again. ‘You look familiar. Are you an actress?'

‘Carlo?' She shakes her head at Lucy. ‘Oh, mio dio,' she says, rushing at him.

‘Who the hell are you?' He pushes her away with his shoulder. ‘Stop crying and kissing me.'

Mrs K dissolves. ‘I get sister. I get father,' she says, rushing off.

Carl turns to Lucy. ‘Great. More nuns and a priest. What is this place — a seminary? You told me that dude wasn't a priest.'

‘He's not,' Lucy says, overwhelmed by the display in front of her. Carl's parents hover in the doorway, and she looks at them for help. What is she meant to do?

‘Carl,' Mr K says softly, ‘you know me. No?'

‘Not sure, mate,' Carl says angrily. ‘Is that a trick
question? Are you asking me if I know you — or telling me I don't?' Carl seems to find this funny and starts laughing loudly, but just as quickly stops. ‘What's wrong with you lot — someone remove your funny bones?' This also seems to strike him as particularly funny. ‘For Christ's sake, why don't you all just fuck off,' he snaps, irritated.

‘You no speak in front of your mother like that,' Mrs K says, wringing her hands.

Carl straightens at her words and leans forward. ‘You know, I've been meaning to ask,' he says casually, ‘that old Immaculate Conception thing — it was a scam, wasn't it? You just came up with the greatest lie ever to excuse yourself for bonking some other bloke. Did they ever let on to old Joseph that you'd deceived him with the Almighty's spawn? Or did you always get away with it? The Catholics swallowed it whole, didn't they? Pray to you and all. Even though you're no more than a garden-variety slut.' He looks pretty pleased with this logic.

‘Oh, mio dio — my Carlo, my good boy. He's like a devil,' Mrs K wails.

‘I'll get someone,' Mr K says, running out of the room.

‘What for?' Carl shouts after him. ‘An exorcism? Fuck!' He looks at Lucy with panic in his eyes. ‘Don't let them touch me,' he whispers.

‘Carl.' She wants to touch his hand but is frightened of him. ‘They're trying to help you.'

The doctor strides into Carl's room and takes the chart from its holder. ‘Hey Carl, how are you?'

‘I don't like your smile. You look like a rat,' Carl says, turning away.

The doctor pulls a torch out of his pocket — it's a little like a pen — and points it in Carl's eyes.

‘Hey!' Carl shouts so violently that Lucy jumps. ‘You trying to blind me?' The next minute Carl pulls a rolled-up newspaper from under the sheets and, limited by the restraints, awkwardly wields it in front of him. The torch flies across the room and hits the wall with a shattering noise.

‘Hey,' the doctor says, putting his hands up in surrender, ‘steady on. Just want to test a few things.'

‘Like what?' Carl snarls, letting the doctor get closer, then hits him hard with the paper. The doctor tries to cover his face, but Carl gets in a few blows. If it wasn't so terrifying, it would be laughable, Lucy thinks.

Orderlies in dark blue arrive.

‘Soldiers!' Carl shouts, thrashing wildly.

One grabs him from the other side, as the doctor jabs him with a needle.

‘Poison!' Carl screams and then relaxes back against the bed.

Mrs K sobs loudly. The doctor looks at her. ‘It's okay,' he says reassuringly. ‘This is quite normal.'

Normal?
Lucy thinks. How is any of this normal?

Carl sleeps for a while, and they sit in silence. He is perfectly still but for the rise and fall of his chest.

‘He's a lot calmer now,' Mr K says weakly.

Lucy nods, still reeling from the shock of it all. ‘Yeah, nothing a dose of muscle relaxant can't fix.'

Her mum lifts an eyebrow at her.

Mr K laughs lightly, but the laughter sounds forced.

There is a knock at the door: Carl's Aunty Adele. Lucy smiles at her.

‘Hi,' Aunty Adele says. ‘How is he? Mama wants to come, but after what you say about the aggression, I tell her to wait. I see him first?' She embraces her sister. ‘How are you?'

‘Surviving.' Mrs K teeters on the edge of tears. ‘So much not like my Carlo.'

‘He needs a good wash,' Adele says, looking at him and wrinkling her nose.

‘They bathe him in bed,' Mrs K says, ‘while he is sleeping. Now, when he's awakened they can put him in the shower.'

Carl stirs. ‘Hey,' he says, trying to lift himself up. ‘Where am I?'

Adele rushes to Carl's side and puts her hand on his. ‘How are you?'

He watches her guardedly. ‘Okay.' He frowns, looking at her hand on his.

‘Do you know who I am, Carl?' Adele asks sadly.

Carl shifts uncomfortably. Looks at Lucy. Looks at his mother. Looks back at Adele. ‘Yeah,' he says slowly, ‘I think I do. You might be my sister. But …' — he pauses, examining her face — ‘I'm not sure if you're the older one or the younger one.'

‘Carlo!' Mrs K grasps her hands together, as if in prayer. ‘You have no sister. She is your zia. Carlo, you don't remember your zia?'

Carl looks at his mother. In front of Lucy's eyes, he seems to turn greyer. ‘Are you my mum? You
could be. You remind me of her. Maybe a bit fatter.'

Mrs K clutches her hands to her breast. ‘Cara mia, when will it end?'

‘Look, Carl.' Adele has picked up a get well card and reads aloud:
‘Thinking of you. Get well soon. Bill and Angela.
Isn't that nice of them.' She places it back on the shelf.

Carl looks at her angrily. ‘I want everyone to get out except for Angela,' he snarls suddenly. The venom is vicious. Mrs K and Adele recoil.

‘Who?' Lucy asks.

Carl doesn't look at her. His black eyes are fixed on his aunt. ‘Everyone out!' he roars. ‘Except her.' He thrusts his thumb in Lucy's direction.

Lucy's mum gives her a worried look, but Lucy nods bravely.

Mrs K doesn't know what to do. She bustles about, fussing over the cards and flowers. Adele grabs her worrying hands and stills them.

‘C'mon, sorella. Later.' She looks over her shoulder at her nephew. She's trying to be casual, but Lucy sees how upset and shaken she is.

Lucy looks at Carl. Maybe he doesn't know who I am, she thinks suddenly. ‘Do you know my name?'

He laughs abruptly. ‘Yeah.'

‘What is it?' she asks softly, wondering about the extent of his memory loss.

‘Lucy.' He squeezes her hand so strongly she thinks he's fractured a bone.

‘Why did you call me Angela?' She frowns.

He leans closer, his black eyes glinting, and drops his voice conspiratorially. ‘I didn't think you'd told them your name. I didn't want to dump you in the shit.' He winks at her and taps the side of his head. ‘Up here for thinking.'

It's dark outside. Their headlights cover the distances between the evenly spaced streetlights, illuminating the glistening black tarmac. Lucy looks at the houses as the car passes, rectangles of yellow light in the blackness. She wonders if that night was like this one. Did he have a moment of clarity when he realised they were going to crash? When he knew the car had taken control and his hands on the wheel, his foot on the pedal, were useless? Was he scared when they were airborne? Did he consider what would happen next? Was he panicking as the car flipped? Did he cry? And when they came to rest on the roof and JD was screaming his phone number, what had they heard, all those people
inside their houses, in front of their 65-inch LCDs, watching the latest release on Foxtel? The screech of brakes? The sound of the car wiping out the fence? And what sound does a half-tonne car make as it flies through the air, flipping and hitting the ground several times? How loud were the crashes, the shattering windows, the splintering metal? What did the people inside their homes say to each other?
Did you hear that? That sounds terrible? Someone's in trouble?
What did they think when they ran to the car, its wheels still spinning: hoons, stolen car, car chase? And the man who called Mr Tan — did he wonder what it would be like to receive the very same call?

‘You okay?' her mum asks, watching her profile.

Lucy shrugs. ‘Yeah. Nah. Thinking.'

‘What do you want to do now?' her mum says.

‘About what?' She laughs loudly. ‘There are so many things that need doing.' But breaking up with Carl just came off the priority list. What kind of heartless bitch would she be if she did that?

‘Tomorrow,' her mum says, squeezing her hand. ‘Let's use the AA adage: take each day one at a time. What do you want to do tomorrow?'

‘Come back,' Lucy says, sighing. ‘I have to.'

‘Okay, I'll bring you,' her mum says, nodding. ‘And you don't have to.'

‘Of course I do.' She looks out the window, thinking.