Forgotten (41 page)

She wanted to, she wanted to very much.

“
Your Papa is not a well man.”

“
But you will get better, you said so.”

“
I don’t know,” he said. “I may have to
go away for a while.”

“
And when you come back, will you be my
Papa again?”

He gently placed his warm, moist hands on
either side of her face. “Look at me,” he whispered.

And what she saw were remnants of her old Papa, with his
sweet, loving eyes and his warm, hopeful smile. “I promise you,
Carino, I promise you I will get better. And then I will come for
you, and I will be your Papa once more.”

And this time, she did trust him.

December 28, 2010

8:12 pm

I PINCHED MYSELF.

Was I really hiding amongst a less inhabited
back section of a several story hospital, cloaked in Annie’s blue
surgery scrubs, ready to embark on a crazy, perhaps dangerous plan
to see my father?

I scanned
the sparsely lit area. Maybe it was my feverish mood, but it seemed
to exude a strangely sinister feel. Large dismal-colored industrial
bins lined one of the bricked walls. Unfriendly smells drifted from
them; shadows bleakly shifted over them. And all around, low,
foreign sounds echoed, the thumps and the creaks that came with a
steamy, stagnant night such as that. Another heavier thump and a
pair of bright, pink eyes shot out of nowhere and stared directly
at us. My breath stalled.

“It’s just a possum,” Saul said.

“I knew that,” I grumbled. The damn thing
hissed at us. I felt the ridiculous urge to hiss back.

“You still want to do this?”

I turned to
Saul. Why the question? Was he having second thoughts? Worse still,
had he caught me pinching? I frowned. “Of course. You think I would
dress like this because I have a secret fetish for nurse
uniforms?”

The near-full moon slipped from the cloud’s
shield and captured the playful sparkle in Saul’s eyes. “You mean
you don’t? That’s truly disappointing, Claudia.”

I fought off the urge to smile, wrinkled my
nose at him instead. From then, the night appeared less
menacing.

Saul’s phone vibrated. The conversation was
brief but long enough to steal that precious sparkle from him.
“They’ve found another,” he whispered.

My throat tightened and I swallowed. “That
would make it five.”

“Possibly more.”

As Saul had expected.

“
Whoever is after you, will assume you’ll
go to him,” Saul says.

I see my father laying in a screeching ambulance or
hospital bed fighting for his life. “And they would assume right.”
I swipe the car keys from the coffee table; hold them as if they
are a prized possession.

Saul grabs my arm, swings me to face him.
“You’d risk your life?”

“
Yes.”

“
And everyone else who’d be there? Your
family, friends? You don’t think you’d be putting their lives at
risk as well.”

I step back, fall into the sofa.

You’re just collateral
, I recall the moron say to Saul.
As would anyone, unfortunate enough to be in my
radius.

My head falls and I picture my Papa again.
“We left on such bad terms.”

“
I know.”

“
If something happens to him….”

Saul is quiet, paces a few steps, rubs his
brow, turns, paces some more. Several times, he glances at Annie
still twisting her necklace.

What is he doing? I search for Ethan. He is
swinging on a barstool. I give him a questioning look. Ethan
presses his forefinger across his lips and winks.

So I wait in silence.

When Saul stops, he turns to Ethan. Saul’s
posture is taller, erect and he is grinning.

“
Ah, my friend, I take that look to mean
you have a plan?”

I oscillate between the smug-looking pair.
“What plan?”

I pulled the supposedly long pants as low as
possible on my hips. They still appeared too short. “So where is
this new low-life hiding?”

“
He’s not.
He’s in full view, in the outpatients.”

This was new. The other four preferred the
refuge of the night. All in a prime position of the hospital’s
well-lit entrance.

All waiting for me.

The mere thought of these watchful, faceless
figures brought back a similarly troubling past. I monitored the
frisky shadows still teasing the bins and trembled. “I can’t
believe this is really happening to me.”

Saul hooked his arm around my neck. “I get
that.”

I leaned
into the familiar security of his musky scent. “So what does
Outpatient’s Man look like? In case he decides to cross
wards.”

Saul didn’t
find my latter comment amusing and said as much. “Young guy, tall,
leanly built, mousy-colored hair that looks badly in need of
washing. As does his white T-shirt and khaki shorts. Work boots,
caked in dried mud.”

My mouth dropped. “And this is who they’ve
sent to kill me?”

Saul rubbed the bridge of his straight nose
and grinned. “You sound insulted.”

I shrugged. Perhaps I was.

“You would prefer someone in an expensive
silk shirt and an Armani suit to do away with you.”

I grinned
back. “Sounds a little worthier… yes.”

Saul kissed
the top of my head. “Remember, these guys are serious.”

I knew that, but in some odd way, the
temporary lightness helped.

“I wish I could say that everything will
turn out fine,” Saul said, “but I’d be lying.”

Lie if you need
. I was being
facetious, thankfully to myself.

“Besides, I have this.” I twisted the thin
black leather band tied to my wrist until an orangey-red stone
appeared. It was a gift from Annie.

“
This is a fire-opal,” she explains. “It’s an enhancer of
personal power, a protector against danger. Wear it for me, so I
know you’re okay.”

I hold the smooth, shimmery rock; imagine
its power already sweeping through me and promise her.

“
As a true symbol of fire,” she adds, “it loves oxygen and
light. Feed it, and it will forever feed you.”

Saul closed
his hand over my wrist. “You sure you still want to do
this?”

I gave the
question more thought, thought how easy it would be to walk away,
use Saul as a thick, cozy doona and wrap myself in him. Thought how
risky the plan was, not just to me but also to others.

Thought of my beautiful Papa.

And trusted my instincts as Papa had always
taught me.

“If I was any one of your other clients,
what would you advise me right now?”

Saul’s
joggers shuffled along the gravelly ground. “That’s an unfair
question, Claudia. You’re
not
like my other
clients.”

I was well aware of that. “Pretend.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m not into make-believe.” He withdrew his
arm, raked his hair almost furiously.

I could’ve stopped the questions. And
considering the situation we were in, perhaps I should’ve. Total
focus was integral. But I wanted to know. “Please.”

He glanced at me and just as quickly cut
away. “I would probably….” And he stopped.

I gripped
his chin, forced him to look at me. “Don’t
probably
me, Saul. From all
I have learnt about you,
probably
isn’t even in your
vocabulary
.
You
act.
Instinctively, knowledgeably, confidently. It is how you have
helped all those people. So just damn tell me what you
really
think I should do.”

I could see his dilemma journey a three-part
act. “What your heart, your instincts tell you to do.”

“Which is to see my father.”

He cemented his jaw and nodded.

“Why?”

When he opened his eyes, they were a giant
kaleidoscope of emotions, not all decipherable. He stroked my
cheek. “You have lived your entire life under a perpetual shroud of
fear and guilt. If anything happened to your father, your guilt
would compound, weaken you more. If you were any other client, I
would do anything possible to prevent that from happening.”

“But you would let that happen to me?”

“
No, Baby. I
wouldn’t have suggested this plan in the first place if that were
the case. But a selfish part of me doesn’t want you hurt, wants you
safe.”

He looked battle weary.

And his battle was me.

I thought of
all my so-called protectors, Nate, Lia, Mel and more dominantly
Papa. And however grateful I was to them, however much I loved
them,
I didn’t want that
relationship with Saul
.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

We kissed.
Passionately, yes, but to me, more as an affirmation.

“There’s Tallow,” Saul said, looking over my
shoulder.

I followed his gaze, made out a dark, muted
silhouette in the distance. A sudden weight pressed against my
chest as the reality of what I was about to do hit me.

“
Remember,”
Saul said. “I can’t access this fire escape from the outside, so
ring immediately if anything goes wrong. I can get Jenna and Scotty
to you right away. And for goodness sake, Claudia, if there’s just
the slightest thing that feels off…
get out of there
.”

I double-checked my pocketed phone and gave
him a quick kiss. With a sense of consternation clinging like
second skin, I joined the short but robust Tallow.

Tallow
didn’t engage in conversation as he led me up the many cemented
stairs. He was more like a vacillating lighthouse, scanning the
poorly lit, barren stillness. When we finally reached the top
floor, he gestured for me to wait beside the closed metal
door.

A small time passed. The door clanged and
whooshed, then slowly squealed opened. A tallish, similarly garbed
woman with angular cheekbones and a long, pointy chin stood on the
other side. I already knew who she was, Viola, Annie’s friend. She
hurriedly gestured me forward.

I spun to Tallow. “You have thirty minutes,”
he said.

And with that, I stepped inside the hospital
ward.

The stark, sterile environment blasted me
like an avalanche of icy, hostile winds. It coated the lofty, white
walls, tortured the brightly burning lights, taunted the sparkling
shine of rumbling medication trolleys and pristine floors. Staff in
sensible shoes padded in and out of rooms, others hurried along the
lengthy corridor. But they all appeared as if time had an agenda of
its own. Paperwork rustled, clipboards clicked and the rare verbal
exchanges appeared curt and humorless.

“This is the Intensive Care Unit,” Viola
said.

She slipped
an ID similar to hers over my head. “No-one should notice that the
photo isn’t you but keep it flipped over anyway.”

I fingered the plastic ID in place. “How’s
my father?”

Small
crinkles creased Viola’s gently smiling eyes. “At this stage, the
doctor only
suspects
a heart attack. He’s still waiting for the first
test results to confirm it. In the meantime, your father has been
sedated, placed on oxygen and other precautionary
medication.”

“
So he’s
okay?”

“
For now,
yes, Claudia.” Viola then urged me along the busying
corridors.

***

It was
deja
vu.

Seeing my
father’s rigid body lying in a dimly lit hospital
room
, seemingly kept alive by plastic
tubes and a perpetually bleating machine. Mama sat hunched next to
him, clinging onto his wrist with one hand and a white, crumpled
handkerchief in the other.

Nate hovered near the foot of the bed,
rocking back and forth, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
Marcus was in the far corner, slumped forward in a fabric armchair.
His fingers were static, laced through his long, fair hair.

I bit my lip and inched forward, scarcely
removing my gaze from Papa.

“Someone checked him a few moments ago,”
Nate said. He sounded tired and understandably frightened.

I forced a feeble smile and called out to
Nate. He looked twice, the second time with a comically scrunched
up nose and forehead. “Clauds?”

That alone grabbed Marcus’ attention. He
stood and took quick, unsteady steps towards us. We held each
other’s hand, bowed our heads until they scarcely touched, as we
had done many times before. And for a few precious seconds we took
solace in one another.

“May not even have been a heart attack,” I
whispered into our special circle.

“
Yeah,
that’s what the doctor said,” Nate answered. “But, seeing Papa like
this, so powerless… it’s not cool.”

I
understood. Our father’s physical and personal dominance
automatically appointed him the backbone of our family. If he
weakened, strangely, it weakened all of us.

Your Papa’s doctors say I am strong like… like a
bear,
he had stated on Christmas Day with
such confidence.

So
then
how had this happened?

I looked up
at my brothers and asked them. “We don
’t
know,” Marcus mumbled. “We weren’t there.”

“And Mama?”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s barely spoken a word
since we’ve been here.”