Before I Saw You(65)
‘What the hell are you doing, Alfie? You think you’re going to be good for anything laid out on the floor with concussion?’
Without another word, she grabbed his crutches from the floor and was helping him move as quickly as possible towards the old man. The closer he got, the tighter Sharon gripped his waist. And the closer he got, the more ragged Mr Peterson’s breathing sounded.
‘What’s happening?’ He reached out for Nurse Bellingham’s shoulder.
‘Alfie, you can’t be here right now. We need space to work on him.’ The flash of panic in her eyes made Alfie’s stomach drop.
‘Work on him?’
Alfie’s heart was pounding. His body was sweating, his breathing shallow. He felt like he’d been running at a million miles per hour, yet he was rooted to the spot.
‘MOVE, ALFIE. We need to get to him.’ Nurse Bellingham pushed him aside.
‘Honey, come over here, you don’t need to see this.’ Sharon was trying to pull him away.
‘No.’ She had his hand and was dragging him. ‘No, Sharon! I can’t leave him. I can’t.’
‘At least move over here a bit more. Make sure the doctors have enough space to help him, OK?’
He didn’t care that she was treating him like a child. In fact, all he wanted right now was someone to hold him and soothe him and tell him everything was going to be OK. Instead all he had were his own words, repeated over and over like a mantra: ‘Please be OK. Please be OK. Please be OK.’
And then the sound cut through.
The eternal, unbroken sound of a heart that had stopped beating.
Alfie didn’t even bother to watch as they tried to resuscitate him. Mr P wasn’t the kind of man that did things by half. If he’d decided to go, there was no way in hell he was coming back, no matter how much electricity someone passed through his body. Slowly Alfie started to make his way back to his bed, and it was only when he started to move that he realized how numb he’d become. He saw his hands move in front of him but he had to question who they belonged to. In an act of self-protection, his body and mind were shutting down and he was truly grateful for the void.
He didn’t cry. He tried. He really fucking tried. He didn’t cry when he heard them announce the time of death. He didn’t even cry when someone mentioned breaking the news to Agnes. The thought of telling that woman her soulmate, her life partner, her entire world had just died without her even being able to say goodbye was beyond painful, yet still no tears came. All he could do was lie there, stare at the ceiling, and allow the commotion of the night to settle down around him.
‘Alfie? Can you hear me?’ Alice’s desperation was unmistakable. He finally understood how satisfying silence was as a way to shut people out.
‘Alfie, please?’
He was perversely enjoying listening to her worry. He wanted her to feel bad. She should feel bad.
‘Alfie, I’m sorry. I just—’
Something suddenly snapped inside him. Rage flooded him instantly, tearing through every part of his body until he wanted to rip his own skin off to escape the heat. For the first time since they’d met, Alfie prayed to be anywhere other than in this bed next to her tonight.
‘You just what, Alice? You just couldn’t get up to help me? You just couldn’t get up out of bed for one minute to help me get to my friend? My dying friend. After everything that’s happened, you couldn’t even fucking get up! For once I actually don’t want to hear what you have to say, so please do me a favour and leave me alone.’
As he turned over to face the other direction, he could have sworn he saw some movement from the curtain. Funny how something you’d been thinking of obsessively for days could instantly become insignificant. He didn’t care if she was looking through at him. He didn’t care if she’d pulled back the whole goddam thing. Some things were just too little too late.
*
Alfie assumed that by the next morning at least some of the shock would have worn off. How wrong he was. He woke, still very numb and still very empty, unsure if he was even awake or still dreaming. Luckily, Alice didn’t try and talk to him. There was no way he had the energy for it today. It was hard enough to smile when Nurse Angles came to see him.
‘Alfie, honey.’ She placed her hand gently on top of his. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ He couldn’t stand to look at her; he didn’t want to see any kindness this morning, not when life kept proving how cruel it could be over and over again. ‘I know it looked traumatic, but the doctors have assured me he didn’t feel any pain. He was an old man, sweetie, it was simply his time to go.’
There was nothing he could say. Nothing he wanted to say. All he could do was curl the corners of his mouth into what he hoped resembled some sort of smile of acknowledgement.
‘I’ll leave you to it, but I’m here – we all are – if you need anything.’
As she turned to go, he was suddenly struck with a devastating thought. ‘Does Agnes know yet?’
‘We told her this morning. She’s coming in to see him this afternoon.’
The rest of the day came and went in a blur. Alfie was vaguely aware of people moving around, staff cleaning and talking amongst themselves, but he didn’t care about the details. When he looked over at Mr Peterson’s cubicle at the end of the day, he was stunned. There was no evidence that the man had existed at all. Everything had returned to its original sterile state. How quickly every trace of a person could disappear, wiped away and collected up to be replaced with fresh bed sheets and a brand-new resident.