A Reason to Exist

Chapter 70

Tucker's dad and I were walking down the hospital corridor. 'We'll say you're his sister, okay? It's the only way to get you into ICU. It's a critical care unit.'

'Okay,' I said, 'thanks.'

That morning, after Tucker awoke, he asked for me. His mum sent his dad to collect me that afternoon. It was awkward. I hadn't met his dad properly before, so I didn't know what to say to him on the drive to the hospital. I'd heard all about this father, about him being a motocross champion, travelling around the world, traversing a dangerous cliff face in Argentina. But on the drive to the hospital, I felt like I was sitting next to a broken man, dishevelled, afraid, travelling his own route of hell.

'He's going to be okay, but he doesn't look good, Macy. Be prepared.'

We stopped outside a sliding door. 'Use the antiseptic liquid,' his dad told me. I pumped a couple of drops of liquid and rubbed it into my hands. There was a list of rules by the door of the ICU unit – 'Visitor infection control: use the hand rub, do not handle any equipment in the cubicle, do not sit on patients' beds, do not bring flowers into the unit, do not bring any food or drink into the bedside area. Immediate family members only.'

Tucker's dad pressed a doorbell. We waited. A few moments later, a nurse opened the door.

'This is Macy,' Tucker's dad said. 'Tucker King's sister. She'd like to see him.' He turned to me. 'I'll wait out here. I think mum is in the hospital somewhere having a rest.'

'Okay.'

I followed the nurse down the ward. There were three or four other patients, all hooked up to machinery. I tried not to look, but there was a feeling in there of being on the edge, that these patients were barely saved documents. Nothing was secure.

We stopped by Tucker's bed. He was sleeping. There were so many IV tubes going in to him, I didn't know where to stand. Half his head was shaved. His arm and leg were bandaged, his feet bruised. His face had a yellow tone.

'This is Mia,' the nurse said. 'She's on the day shift looking after Tucker. All the patients in ICU have a full time nurse.'

I looked at Mia. 'Hi,' I said.

'Hello,' Mia said. 'He looks poorly, but he's doing well. You can take a seat there.'

I sat down on the chair beside Tucker's bed. I watched his chest rise and fall and listened to the softness of his rescued breath. Mia sat on a stool, at what looked like a switchboard, taking notes, checking levels on a computer screen. I tried to act like his sister, but really I wanted to take his hand, even though it was full of drips, and kiss it twenty million times.

I sat and waited. There was the constant beeping of machines and doctors and nurses talking in hushed tones. Tucker's eyelids fluttered and I wondered if he was waking.

The last time we sat by a bed together, we were naked, exploring the full liberties of being alive, breathlessly, hearts beating. Now he was on a hospital bed, a full time nurse monitoring his heart rate and breathing. This was the boy who jump-started my heart again, who made me believe in love and possibility and happiness. He rewired my fears, threw my caution to the wind, showed me that bodies are made to be believed in, that life without courage is a times table without a multiplication sign. But now his body was battered and I could hardly bring myself to look at the stitches on his head, covered in a thin plastic bandage.

'Macy,' he said, his eyes slowly waking. I smiled and leant in closer. 'Remember that time we met, when you had green hair? You were so gorgeous. I thought you were out of my league. Now you're here by my hospital bed. I can't believe my luck.'

His voice was barely above a whisper. Don't cry, I told myself, be brave, don't cry. The last thing he needs is to see you cry.

'I'm here,' I said. 'I'm here for you.'

'Fuck the film and that fucking trick and fuck cancer. You're here.' His eyes fluttered. I wondered if he was high on morphine. I wondered if he'd remember I'd been. The nurse was watching us from her switchboard station. I was under surveillance. 'I could've been a cripple, the cancer could've killed me. Luck hey?' His eyes rolled to the side and he grimaced in pain. 'I'm so lucky, I should buy a lotto ticket.'

I slid my pointer finger under his hand, slowly, so the nurse couldn't see. Tucker felt it and wrapped his fingers around my finger, peacefully closing his eyes. His life had been corrupted, his body damaged, his luck had been tested. Yet he was still breathing, softly, steadily, recovering his strength minute by minute. His will will return. This boy was the most determined boy I knew. I remembered his dad's first lesson: "Okay, you fell, you learnt something. Now get up and try again." There will be a new trick for Tucker to land. There will be new lessons. This is his lucky break. The wheel of fortune has turned. Life begins again.

Loving Tucker was always a risk. But there I was. And I still loved him. I leant in. I didn't care about nurse Mia, or the IV tube hanging out of his nose, or that Frankenstein scar on his head. I didn't care if I was breaking the ICU rules and they found out I was his lover, not his sister. I kissed him full on the lips.

I said, 'at least we're still cute.' His eyes were closed, but he smiled, big and white, showing those teeth I adore.

Nurse Mia stood up and said 'I'll have to ask you to leave. You're obviously not related.'

I didn't care. I kissed Tucker again. His eyes opened. He whispered, 'Macy, did you do something against the rules?'

'Yes.'

'Good,' he said, smiling. 'You're following your heart instead of the rules. I'm proud.'

'That's enough. You have to go,' Nurse Mia said, agitated.

I stood. As I walked away, I looked back and Tucker was smiling. Still smiling.