Kookaburra (formerly untitled) Ch.FOURTEEN

It’s the steady beat of a heart monitor over shallow breathing, the smell of disinfected linoleum floors, the pale whites and greens that look pale against the nurses’ blue uniforms.

Kaden’s face looks so pale beneath the bed sheets. His body looks so thin, frail, fragile. I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m scared to, because he still looks every inch like the porcelain doll that sat on that bench so forlornly this morning. God, was that only this morning?

I hear a noise at the door, interrupting my thoughts. I turn my head away from Kaden’s weak figure and see Seth at the door. There are bags under his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe they just weren’t there. His hands are twisted behind his back in a way that can’t be natural.

Then I remember. Grievous Bodily Harm. They charge people for that. I’d left him at Matt’s once the ambulance came. That must have been when the police got him.

“Hey,” he says weakly.

“Hi,” I reply coldly, turning back to Kaden. There’s silence for a few minutes. The only sound in the room is the metallic beep telling us Kaden’s still breathing. Oh, how considerate.

“How is he?” says Seth quietly.

“Busted lip. Severe brain injury. Just about breathing. And yourself?”

Scott sighs. “Look, baby-“

“Scott.”

“Fine. Scott. I’m not going to pretend there’s any excuse for what I did. I was stupid; I trusted my instincts too much. And I’m so, so sorry. I’m not going to try to defend my actions. I was high, and I was a fucking jackass. I don’t expect for you to forgive me. But I just want you to know I’m sorry, and I’d do anything to take it all back.”

I don’t say anything in return. Behind me, I hear Seth turn on his heel.

“Nice speech,” I call out without turning to him, “is that the one you use for all your court appearances, or do you save it exclusively for GBH?”

I hear him sigh again as he leaves the room, and I can’t help but feel like a bit of a twat. He was being sincere, or at least trying to be. And I just threw it back at him. Maybe I should go after him and apologise…

No. He deserves it, he deserves everything he gets. I may have been hailing him as the new God a few hours ago, but he almost killed my boyfriend. Fuck him.

I hear a noise behind me again. “Shouldn’t you be in jail?” I mutter.

“Excuse me, sir?” says an adult’s voice. I spin around. A tall man in a lab coat stands in the doorway.

“Sorry,” I mumble, “thought you were someone else.”

“It’s okay,” he says, breaking a smile, “I understand.” Sure you do, I think. “I’m Dr Price, Mr McKenzie’s doctor. You must be Scott, his…?” There’s a definite question mark after his words, and I can tell I’m supposed to answer.

“Friend. I’m Kaden’s friend,” I mutter.

“I see. And do you have any idea how we could access his next-of-kin?”

I shake my head. I really, really don’t.

“Do you know anyone else who might have some idea?”

Shake my head again.

“Oh.”

There’s that uncomfortable silence again.

Beep. Beep. Bee-

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid we have to reserve that information for relatives only.”

Why? Will it run out otherwise? Isn’t there enough bad news to go around?

“Fine. I lied. I’m his… I’m his boyfriend. Can you tell me now?”

“Scott, you know I want to, but-“

“Please,” I say, begging him with my eyes, “please. Just tell me what’s wrong with him.”

Dr Price sighs. It’s the kind of sigh where you know you have something horrible to say, and you don’t want to say it, but you know you have to. “Mr McKenzie sustained numerous injuries to the head and neck. He also appears to have a small fracture in his upper arms. And, if the information you’ve given us is correct, he’s severely underweight for his age.”

I swallow. I’d been expecting this, but it’s still horrible to hear.

“So what happens now?”

“Well, once Mr McKenzie regains consciousness, he will be taken to x-ray to check his skull and arm for breakages. Then the police will undoubtedly want to talk to him about today’s” – he searches for the right word – “instances. Social services may also want to talk to him.”

My body goes cold. “Why social services?”

“If Mr McKenzie does indeed have some kind of eating disorder, then it’s important we address it correctly.”

The blood rushes back through my veins in a surge of anger. “You think he’s sick, don’t you? You think he has mental problems, you think he’s insane; you want to take him away and pull out all the parts that make him him. You want to fix him, turn him ‘normal’.”

“Scott, I never said-“

“You were fucking thinking it though!” I yell. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I can see through your eyes, I can see behind them. You think he’s just the same as the rest, some messed-up, violent, anorexic kid, don’t you? Well he’s not, he’s different. Not even the ‘odd’ kind of different, he’s the kind of different were he’s beautiful just through being him. He’s the kind of different I’d love to be, but no, I’m not, because I’m just the same as all the other ‘different’ kids. I’m normal. All he’s ever wanted to be is normal, but I hate being normal, I fucking hate it! I’d rather be his different than my normal, I’d rather be that any day.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I spin around. “Kay?” I whisper. His eyes are open, dilated pupils floating on watery irises. I take his hand in mine, cold flesh on cold flesh. Leaning down, I murmur into his ear. “I missed you…” my lips meet his in a gentle kiss, quickly followed by a stinging pain in my cheek. I pull back, alarmed. “Did you just slap me?”

“I have to go…” says Dr Price from the background, shuffling out of the room.

“Fuck you,” whispers Kaden, green eyes fixed on the bed sheets.

“Kay, I…”

“You what?” he says, voice creeping louder, still avoiding my eyes, “I come and find you fucking another guy, and you still have something to say? Well go ahead, say it. Yell it out for the entire fucking hospital to hear, because I really want to know what could be so important that you just go off with some junkie slut.”

“I wasn’t fucking him…” I say quietly.

“Five more minutes and you would have been.”

“Kay, please…”

“Scott, there’s nothing you can say.”

And there isn’t. Just silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“They want to put you in a home.”

“A home?” he glares at me, incredulous.

“Yeah, a home. For people with eating disorders.”

“I don’t have a ‘disorder’. I’m fine.”

“Look at yourself and tell me that, Kay. You’re tiny, barely enough flesh to cover your ribs. Normal people aren’t like that. There’s something wrong with you, they just want to fix it.”

“Thought you said they shouldn’t fix me. Couldn’t.”

My cheeks flush red for some inconceivable reason. “You heard that, then.”

“Of course I fucking heard it. I reckon hospitals in fucking Brazil heard it.”

“Oh…”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Kay, do you want to get… get ‘fixed’?”

He snorts. “What, like a dog? Nah thanks, my balls and I are perfectly comfortable together.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Beep.

“I don’t want to be like this. I want to be happy. But at the same time… It’s nice having something to blame it on, you know? Something to set me apart, something to make me special.”

“You are special, Kay.”

“Yeah, I felt real special tonight, watching you suck face with some random guy. Who was he, anyway?”

“Seth,” I say, impatiently, “and don’t change the fucking subject.”

“Seth? Like, the God of destruction Seth?” says Kay, amused.

“Kay, this isn’t a fucking joke.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.”

“So take it fucking seriously.”

“Fine. Just say what you want me to say, and I’ll say it.”

“I don’t want you to say anything.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Kay, come on.”

“What do you want me to fucking say? You want me to tell you how it feels to look in the mirror every single day, to know you’re getting thinner but never feel it? To feel like every time people laugh, they’re laughing at you, that every compliment out of their mouths is a lie, that all their thoughts are saying you’re just some fag, a piece of shit, some worthless cuckoo child. Well I can’t, Scott, because if I told you every shitty thought that’s ever gone through my mind, we’d be here until next Christmas.”

And there’s nothing I can say. I try to twist my fingers around his, but his hands are a tight ball, and he’s not letting me in.

“You should probably go,” he murmurs quietly as Dr Price comes back in.

I sigh inwardly. Because I know that I should go. He doesn’t want me here. But still, something in me is screaming out to stay, stay until he comes back from x-ray, stay until he gets good news or bad news, stay until his heart breaks or fixes in a single sentence.

I ignore it.

“Bye Kaden. Good luck with everything.”

No ‘I’ll see you’, ‘I’ll miss you’, nothing. I only add the ‘good luck’ as an afterthought, and almost regret it afterwards. I think this over as I walk out, past Dr Price, past his bemused expression and sterilised white coat, past the aqua walls and windows criss-crossed with clouds, until the recycled air of the hospital gives way to the fresh oxygen of outside, setting everything free, letting out all the pent-up emotions, the anger, the hurt, the pain, the sorrow. Everything.

“And that’s how I learned the lesson that everyone's alone, and your eyes must do some raining if you're ever gonna grow.”