My Best Friend Has Issues (18 page)

I spent the next six hours being shoved in and out of machines. I felt like a well-fired roll. It was only then that I found out, when Chloe told me, that I would be allowed to go home.

‘So they’re not going to operate?’

Despite Chloe’s platinum credit card, they didn’t send us home in an ambulance. Chloe had to go outside and hail a cab. A nurse walked me to the front door, and not in a good way. It was as if she were seeing an unwelcome guest off the premises.

So as not to put a strain on my heart, we came up the stairs really slowly, one at a time, like pensioners. I could probably move faster but I was scared. Chloe was gently encouraging: ‘Easy does it, honey. Thattagirl. There you go.’

As soon as we got in Chloe bundled me into bed and brought a glass of water and two tablets.

‘What are they?’

‘Hell, I don’t know. Your prescription, from the hospital. The very best that medical science has to offer.’

‘Were they expensive? How much did all that treatment cost Chloe?’

‘You don’t have to worry about that. Your job is to concentrate on getting well. Now be a good girl, and take ‘em.’

I was a good girl and swallowed the pills. Then I grabbed her hand.

‘Chloe, why are you so kind to me?’ I blubbered.

‘Shut up,’ said Chloe softly. ‘Listen to me, you’re gonna get well, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.

I nodded vigorously, the only thing I could manage vigorously.

‘I’m not going to die.’

‘No honey, you’re not gonna die.’

‘No,’ I said, this time more emphatically, ‘it wasn’t a question, it’s a fact: I’m not going to die. I refuse to.’

‘That’s my girl,’ she said and hugged me. ‘Listen, you gotta get well for starting college. We’re gonna be busy. We’ll have to find an apartment and pick out a car. Aged P says no soft tops, but screw him.’

‘I can’t drive.’

‘You can learn. You’ll take lessons. It’s not like here, everybody drives in California.’

It was a nice idea but I’d never really believed we’d go to college. Why would Chloe’s dad agree to pay college fees for a complete stranger? And even if he did, Chloe was fickle. If she was excited about this art course, she’d change her mind again soon. I didn’t trust her not to. There was something else that made me suspicious. It was too much of a coincidence that Chloe suddenly wanted us to go to college the day my brother ordered me home. She knew how bad I felt about everything that had happened. She knew how homesick I was. Maybe she’d used the promise of college to make me stay.

‘Chloe, are you serious about college?’

‘Yep.’

‘Are you absolutely sure you won’t change your mind?’

‘Nope.’

‘And we’re both going?’ I asked.

My flight was this afternoon. If I was going to catch it, I’d have to get packed now. I’d have to tell her.

‘D’you swear on your mum’s life?’

‘Yes. I swear on my mom’s life. Jeez, Alison, what do you want from me?’

Chloe stormed out of the bedroom. She came back a second later with the UC Berkeley prospectus.

‘You already have a degree, right? Well, if my dad can get me in – with my school record – he can sure as hell get you in. Quit worrying. This is only the Arts Practice faculty program but it’ll give you an idea. Check out the studios. Cool, huh?’

I nodded.

‘We are going to Berkeley, me and you, and we are gonna have the time of our lives. My mom has a little beach house she never uses. We can go there on weekends, we can barbeque and swim and read our college books and sit and listen to the ocean. It’s gonna happen. I’m serious, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I whispered.

‘And I’m gonna take the best care of you. You’ll probably feel sleepy right about now so I’m gonna go out and get food.’

‘Chloe, don’t leave me. I’m really not hungry and anyway, we’ve got food. We’ve still got loads of cake and crisps from last night.’

‘I mean real food. That stuff’s going in the garbage. No more crap. Chicken soup, that’s what you need.’

There was no talking her out of it. And she was right. I did feel tired. It was great to be off the hospital gurneys and back in our own bed. I was nodding off when I heard her leave the flat. Things weren’t so bad, I was still alive.

When I woke up Chloe was back, I could hear the television on in the living room. I lay dozing, woozy, unable to properly wake up, until she came in to check on me.

‘Oh, you’re awake. Want your soup now?’

I didn’t, but I didn’t want to disappoint her. The soup was homemade, from scratch. ‘Free-range chicken,’ she assured me. It tasted like it too.

Chloe had brought her bowl and perched on the edge of the bed, both of us slurping noisily.

‘I didn’t know you were such a good cook,’ I said.

‘There’s plenty of things you don’t know about me.’

‘Oh God, this is so good. My mum sometimes makes soup like this.’

‘Are you still missing your mom?’

‘Not really,’ I lied. ‘And I’m not going to tell them about the hospital. No chance. Mum and the boys would be all
We warned you. We told you to come home
. Thank God I didn’t die, Charlie would have been so smug.’

‘Shut up!’ Chloe laughed.

‘No, I’ll phone in a few weeks, once the Lisa and Lauren dust has settled, once I’m working. If I leave it till then, they’ll be grateful to hear from me and they won’t give me such a hard time.’

After the soup Chloe let Juegita and the pups visit me for a while. They romped around the bed and when they walked over me I noticed how heavy they were getting, how much steadier on their feet. We’d only been gone overnight but the pups seemed so much more grown up. Juegita seemed pleased to see me too, she had forgiven me and I hugged her neck in gratitude.

‘Did you fill their bowls?’ I asked Chloe.

‘Duh! Of course.’

‘Sorry, just checking.’

‘Yeah well, I think I can be trusted to look after my own dogs. I managed pretty well before you got here, remember?’

I hung my head.

‘No, hey, my bad. I didn’t mean that. That was a cheap shot. I’m just tired, with all the running around and all.’

Chloe had been up all night and all day too. While I was being wheeled around the hospital from one machine to another she was by my side. I’d been asleep all day while she’d bought food, made soup and took care of the pups. No wonder she was exhausted.

‘Chloe, you need to get some sleep. Come on, lie down. Oh, and have you got my phone?’

‘I thought you weren’t going to call your mom.’

‘I’m going to phone Ewan, ask him not to tell Charlie about me being in hospital.’

‘Yeah well, whatever.’ Chloe said reluctantly, ‘I’ll get it.’

She rummaged through her jeans pockets, her clothes in the wardrobe and then the bedroom drawers. I kept up a hopeful expression but my heart was sinking.

‘It’s like we’re cursed,’ Chloe wailed. ‘Nothing ever goes right. Everything we do turns to shit.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘No, it’s not okay, I can’t find it anywhere. The last place I remember having it was at the hospital. I’ve lost it, or it was stolen, I don’t know, I feel like a dumbass idiot.’

‘You’re not a dumbass idiot. Come here. For God’s sake, it’s nothing, it’s only a phone.’

‘Yeah, but it’s
your
phone, and
I
lost it. I’m one of the few people who’ve never been robbed in this city. I’ve been here five months, that’s a record. Now I feel stupid. I hate that!’

‘You’re not stupid. Shut up. You were busy, it happens.’

‘Yeah, but I should’ve…’

‘You’ve been busy looking after a friend in hospital, a very
grateful
friend. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?’

I changed the subject and asked her all the questions I’d wanted to ask earlier.

‘What did they say was wrong with me? Was it a heart attack?’

Chloe nodded solemnly.

‘What else did they say?’

Chloe shrugged.

‘Not much. The tests were inconclusive. They might have to do them again. They’re gonna send a letter. For now it’s just medication and bed rest.’

‘Och jeezo, not bed rest! I had enough of that with glandular fever.’

I’d had a good sleep and, despite my heart attack ordeal, I felt quite refreshed. My fear of dying had become a bit more rational. I wanted to get up, the dogs would need fed again soon and the kitchen would be a mess. Left like this, roaches would be climbing the walls within days.

‘I’m going to be starting work with Señor Valero soon. Did they say how long I had to stay in bed?’

‘Nope,’ said Chloe, ‘they didn’t. They just said they’ll send a letter. So until then I’m afraid you’re legally required to lie back and relax.’

I was in bed waiting for the letter from the hospital. Chloe would only allow me to get up to go to the toilet. Every night, in the cool of the night, usually after she’d tried again to reach her mother on the phone, she’d walk me round the terrace.

‘The chimney’s coming along,’ I enthused, she had tiled it nearly to the top. ‘It must be hard working up those ladders all day.’

She took my arm and made me walk slowly, as if I were an invalid. It was ridiculous. I felt fine. I slept a lot; I was reading a lot and the medication was making me sleepy. Apart from that I felt as strong and frisky as a racehorse. But I was fed up.

Chloe was brilliant, or at least she was to begin with. The first few days she went out to the market and brought back fresh meat and vegetables and made soup and nourishing stews. The weather was too hot for stews but the bedroom was air-conditioned and I was so bored. When my appetite did finally flag she even made me a crisps and fishfinger sandwich.

She was so good to me. She brushed my hair every morning, one hundred strokes and then again later in the day.

‘Your hair is so great, Alison, it’s an amazing colour.’

‘It’s the same colour as a highland cow,’ I told her. ‘Moo.’

‘I feel like I wanna do something with it, put big fancy ribbons in it or something.’

‘When I was wee, Isabelle used to put my hair up with ribbons, in bunches or a pony tail,’ I told her.

‘I could buy ribbons in Corte Ingles, they have amazing colours, purple and lilac, or maybe yellow.’

‘Yeah, all the highland cows are wearing ribbons this season, it’s a good look.’

‘Shut up! You don’t look like a cow.’

‘No?’

‘No. Anyway, cows are kinda cute. You’re more like a buffalo.’

‘Watch it pal. Just brush the hair,’ I said, closing my eyes.

Chloe looked after the dogs too. Twice she took Juegita out for a walk and a poo in the park. After my pill I’d fall asleep for a few hours and when I woke Chloe would have cleaned the flat and cooked something wonderful. She’d bring the food to the bedroom and after we ate she’d read to me.

I told her she didn’t have to, I was quite capable of reading for myself, but she wanted to so I let her get on with it. It was very comforting being read to, like being a kid again, like having Isabelle read
Harry Potter
to me, the two differences being that Chloe had a Californian accent and Isabelle had a Cumbernauld one; Harry Potter was a boy wizard and Belle de Jour was a prostitute. While Chloe read out kinky sex I dropped off to sleep.

It didn’t last. She quickly got bored. She stopped taking Juegita out, saying she was at a critical stage with the chimney. The pups were annoying her too, getting under her feet. Once she locked them out on the terrace and hid the key. In this baking hot weather the dogs hated the terrace. At first they pawed at the door and cried to get back in. After a while they must have gave up and slunk off to find whatever shade they could, lying with their tongues hanging out, panting heavily. I had to plead with her before she finally relented.

And still no letter came from the hospital.

I was frustrated, so was Chloe, but for a different reason. She tried at all different times of the day to phone her mum but her mum was never at home. In desperation she even phoned her dad to see if he knew where her mum was. He didn’t, and he only wanted to argue with her for maxing out her credit card.

‘It was a fucking emergency, Dad!’ she screamed.

It was my fault, she’d used her credit card to pay for my treatment, all the tests, and the medication from the hospital, but she never once reproached me for it.

‘Yeah,’ she snarled at her dad, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘that’s why they’re called
credit
cards!’

On the next call she skilfully segued from sarcasm into rage: ‘Of course I understand that it’s an appreciable amount of money, Dad, and I really hope
you
can understand that I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!’

Next time it was a soft voice, almost kindly, ‘I totally do not give a shit.’

After that she refused to speak to him at all. When he called I had to answer. All correspondence now came through me. At first it was awkward but it gave me a certain amount of power. Philip was scrupulously polite to me at all times. Seeing as Chloe had spent the money on my healthcare he never brought the subject up again.

Chloe was getting frazzled, not so much with the contact from her dad but with the complete lack of contact from her mum.

I didn’t say anything when she stopped making the stews. I was getting fed up with stew anyway. We went back to our more usual diet of cartons of gazpacho and take-out kebabs. The flat began to suffer. I noticed on my frequent trips to the bathroom, the highlight of my day, that the sink had acquired a greasy tidemark. I locked the door and got busy with the bottle of Cif I kept in the cupboard. If she noticed, she never mentioned it and I kept up my daily cleaning of the bathroom. It gave me something to do. But if the bathroom was this dirty, what state was the kitchen in? I pictured the roaches crawling across the work surfaces. She stopped hanging out in the bedroom with me so much.

She worked on her chimney or tried to get through to her mum. I spent my time reading. I’d read every book in the flat and had started re-reading the ones I’d enjoyed. After three days I asked Chloe if the letter from the hospital had arrived yet.

‘No, not yet. It’s probably stuck in a mail room or admin centre or something, it’ll probably take a while.’

After five days I asked again but her reply was a curt ‘no’ this time. I was hurt. It wasn’t as though I had pestered her, I’d only asked twice.

I hadn’t been able to sleep. I couldn’t contain my frustration any longer and early on the morning of the sixth day I nudged Chloe awake and asked her if she thought the letter had got lost.

‘What am I?’ she sneered, still half asleep, ‘Postmaster General? How the hell do I know?’

I chose to ignore her tone.

‘Well, I think it has. In fact, I’m sure it has.’

‘Well good for you.’

‘I can’t lie here forever. I’m going to get dressed and go to the hospital and find out what’s going on.’

‘Whoa, tiger! You are gonna do no such thing.’

I slid my legs to the side and began to haul myself out of bed.

‘Yes I am.’

‘Alison, wait up. Think about it, you don’t speak Catalan or even Spanish, and besides, you’ll never make it down there.’

‘I’ll take a taxi.’

‘Okay, you want to have another attack? Is that what you want? Coz that’s what’ll happen.’

‘I’ll take my chances.’

I made to stand up.

‘Come on, Alison,’ Chloe said in a much sweeter voice. ‘Okay, if it means so much to you, I’ll go down there.’

Halfway up I felt dizzy and had to sit back down again.

‘But how will you get it?’ I asked.

‘You remember Dr Fernandes, the Portuguese guy? No? He’s your doctor. I’ll find him and he can tell me what’s going on.’

‘But they said they’d send a letter. It has to be a letter.’

‘Okay, I’ll get him to give me the letter, or write a new one, will that make you happy? It’ll probably cost another couple of hundred bucks but it’ll be worth it to get you off my back.’

I lay back in the bed. Another couple of hundred bucks. Chloe had already spent so much. But I needed the letter. I didn’t actually know for sure what was wrong with me. I didn’t know what the pills I was taking were or what they were for, as far as I could see they just made me sleepy. Of course I wouldn’t be able to read it, it
would be in Catalan or Spanish, or both, but Chloe could translate and I could always ask Ewan for a second opinion.

‘If you can speak to Dr Fernandes, I’ll pay for it.’

I was going to have to visit the biscuit tin again.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll go. Just let me get dressed.’

‘Thanks Chloe, you don’t know what this means to me. You’re the best pal I’ve ever had.’

‘Yeah yeah,’ she said, ‘whatever.’

Chloe, as usual, didn’t bother with breakfast. She brushed on two thick layers of mascara and then started pulling things out of the drawers looking for something to wear. She tried on two blue tops before settling on a green one, all the while going on about how hot Dr Fernandes was: how she was glad she had an excuse to go down there and see him again. I didn’t say anything, I wasn’t required to, but actually I was struck dumb by the sight of one of the pups attempting to take a dump, right in front of us, in Chloe’s designer shoe.

Conejo had her bum in the air and was straining. So far Chloe hadn’t noticed. I pulled myself up again. I had to get to the shoe before Chloe saw what was happening. But it was too late. As I was still heaving myself out of bed Chloe let out a hideous shriek. She had blindly plunged her foot inside the shoe. The shit squidged over the sides and onto the floor.

The puppy, having no concept of having done anything wrong, didn’t bolt under the bed. Chloe grabbed Conejo by the neck and, with the shit still oozing from her shoe, marched out of the bedroom.

Suddenly I found the strength to move quickly.

‘It was an accident,’ I yelled as I followed her. ‘She didn’t mean it, she’s only a pup.’

It was as if Chloe didn’t even hear me. She stomped on through the living room and stopped for a moment to unlock the terrace door.

‘I’ll clean your shoe, it’s not a problem, honestly,’ I whined. ‘Please Chloe, don’t leave her out there. Not all alone.’

I hated to think of another little wooden box.

But I had read the situation wrong. Chloe didn’t intend to leave Conejo on the terrace. By the sporty style in which she dropped Conejo on to her waiting foot, I now realised she was about to drop-kick the puppy off the roof.