Shoulder Angel

3: Friends That Are Family

My best friend came and picked me up from the hospital a day or so after I had woken up, and boy was she pissed off. Her name was Emily. She was a tiny brunette, with freckles and clear grey eyes. She and her husband Brad have been together since we were in grade ten, and they had three kids. Which was why I had avoided calling her until I was ready to be released.

“You’ve been awake for days?” she cried in disbelief. I put my hands up defensively.

“I didn’t want you to have to get a sitter on short notice when I couldn’t go anywhere,” I protested, “I didn’t know if Brad was on or off work.” He worked as a miner, so that meant that he worked three weeks on and one week off up in Northern Territory. Last I heard he was looking at dropping his hours, to two weeks on and two weeks off, because he didn’t like how much time he was missing with the kids.

“He quit, got a job driving trucks instead. He doesn’t even go interstate anymore,” she said seriously, and I froze. That hadn’t even been something that I knew they were looking at. It was just… completely out of the blue.

“I didn’t even know he was considering it,” I replied in shock. She threw me a truly filthy look. The kind she reserved for whenever somebody, or rather something in her opinion, I had brought home on a date made her question my sanity.

“Tiana, you scared the crap out of us,” she said in a small voice, and suddenly my hospital bed felt much much bigger or I was feeling a hell of a lot smaller. “We just… we were all living our lives. We’re not barely out of our twenties anymore, but we aren’t old ladies yet,” she said with her eyes misting up and sniffling, “When I ah, got the call you were in hospital, and it was bad? I was so scared, because… we don’t feel old enough for it. It felt like the kind of horrible thing that happens to other people, and I know that you're okay but we… we didn’t know if you were going to be. Didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up. We thought you were just… just dead. Here one day, and gone the next. It scared us. When that kind of morality sinks in… he didn’t want to be where he was, doing what he was doing. Brad wanted to be here, with his friends and his family.”

“Oh Em, sweetie,” I said, pulling her into a hug as she cried on my shoulder. I hadn’t thought about that. Hadn’t thought that my being hurt could affect anything at all. “I’m okay, and so is everyone else,” I promised her, “You don’t have to worry. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah well don’t do it again,” she said, smacking me lightly on the arm, “Brad felt really shitty that he was a whole state away when you got hurt, and I was very pissed to realise that I was your emergency contact.” It was my turn to smack her in the arm.

“Mums in a nursing home, and my sister lives in another state,” I said in complaint, “Who the hell else was it going to be?” She rolled her eyes, and I knew she was just lamenting the opportunity to get all mushy and do something to celebrate the moment.

“Actually your sister is housesitting for you right now,” Emily said, smoothing her pleated black skirt as she stood. How she managed to dress so nicely being chased by munchkins I would never know. She liked to joke that she had mum shorts underneath her pretty skirts, whatever that meant.

“Jen got on a plane to come take care of my stuff?” I said in disbelief, “How did she even know I was hurt?” It’s not like I would have told her, I was unconscious, and Emily is down as my emergency contact so that nixes that.

“I called her,” Emily said, tone ringing with frustration, “Of course I called her, you almost died. I’ve also been visiting your mum for you. I can’t believe you thought that your big sister wasn’t going to show up? We really need to have a conversation about your self-worth.” We’ve had that conversation before. We’ve had it many times over the last couple of decades, because Em and I had been rocking this bestie bullshit since kindergarten. I was curious how every time she thought that this time, this time it was going to work. I'd love to have her optomisim. We left soon after that. The hospital kept trying to convince me to stay. Telling me that there was no way that I was doing as well as I thought I was. I ignored them. Something telling me that I was fine. That I had absolutely nothing to worry about.

“Do you want me to stay until your sister gets back from visiting your mum?” Emily asked as we pulled up out the front of my house. I shook my head.

“She’ll be back by dinner, if she doesn’t leave earlier than that,” I said shaking my head, “I’ll be fine. I hope she doesn’t rush back though, mum loves it when Jen visits and she doesn’t get to very often. By the way, how much do I owe you for the joint account?” The joint account was something that we’d pulled together after her oldest was born. A way that we could cover the other, or take care of what needs taking care of should the worst happen. Most people thought it was nuts, but honestly after my little coma incident who's laughing now?

“I wrote it all down in a book, I’ll give it to you next time dork,” she said rolling her eyes, “You were in a coma, you can take a week to get stuff organised. It doesn’t have to be done now.” I bit my tongue, wanting to ask if not that then what? What is done now?

“Yeah well I don’t feel like it, so business as usual I guess,” I said. She smiled brightly, and leaned in to give me a tight squeeze.

“Do me a favour, no hitting your head while you’re on your own. Okay?” she muttered. I laughed, and hugged her. Gently reminding her that I don’t control the universe but I would do my best. I got out of the car and she drove away. I’d had to shuffle her, because she was almost insistent that she stayed with me. I reminded her that it was stupid to argue with her usual babysitter. Other people's rates, at least the people she’d let babysit her kids, we’re bupkis. I let her go grocery shopping alone, for free. Still, it was way less expensive for her, if she went home now.

Standing outside of my home, I took a second to admire it. It felt good to be home. The double bricked house exactly as I left it. Blue painted shutters on the window, and the garden beds filled with flowers. Not a tile on the roof out of place, and this was all very comforting. I walked up to the door, and slipped my key into the lock. It turned easily, and I let myself in. It was kind of obvious that someone had been staying here, and kind of not at the same time. On the one hand, everything was clean, and on the other hand… It was too clean. There were no dishes in the sink. No personal items in the bathroom, or odd ends on the benches. There were vases of fresh cut flowers everywhere. Peach blossoms from the tree in the backyard. Like someone had come in periodically, made it pretty and left again. If Jen had been here, there would have been a book lying around half finished somewhere. One minimum, but it was… just my house but cleaner than I left it. Which made sense, my older sister was prone to stress cleaning.

*****

“What does any of this have to do with Owen and Johna?” Ess interrupted me with a groan, “I want things relevant to the problem, not whatever this is.” There was dismissive hand waving to go with that, and I scoffed at her.

“I have no idea what’s relevant,” I told her bluntly, “So tough, you get all of it. Plus Emily’s important.” She frowned, and shook her head.

“I doubt it,” she muttered.

“Hey!” I said in offensive, “She is to me. That’s my sister as much as Jen is, and if you want to hear another word out of my mouth then you will be nice about her, and if you are ever privileged enough to meet her you will be nice to her. Because she is f*****g fabulous, and genuinely the kindest person I have ever me.”

“You know that you can’t fight me,” she said, looking at me like I was cute.

“Make my best friend feel like s**t? I’ll throw these hands regardless of the fact that you’ll win outright,” I said, making myself perfectly clear. She seemed utterly delighted by this. It was insane. I didn’t know what to do about it but hey, I wasn’t dying. I wasn’t sure what made me so sure that she could kill me, especially when I couldn’t figure out how she’d go about it. Literally couldn’t even picture it. Didn’t stop me from being damn sure that I was dead if I stepped wrong.

“I like you,” she said in approval, “Your best friend is lucky.” I didn’t have the heart, or the time, to describe to her just how much I was the lucky one. Emily did way more for me over the years than I could ever repay her for. I owed her.

“I really hope it stays like that,” I confided, and I wasn’t sure why but apparently it was the right thing to do. Her smile was gentle, and her eyes warm as Ess replied to me.

“Just keep being yourself, regardless of who I am, and we’ll manage,” she says assuringly, “You’d be surprised how many bumbling idiots shake themselves into a nervous wreck trying to figure out what I want to hear.”

“Eww,” I said, scrunching up my face. That sounded all sort of awful.

“How do you function?” I asked her, because I couldn’t imagine having to deal with that on a daily basis. Ess bit her bottom lip, and looked honest to goodness embarrassed at the question.

“Not well,” she said hurriedly, “So not well. Anyway, you were telling me a story. When did Johna and Owen pop back up again?” I decided not to press, even though her shifty change of subject made sure that I desperately wanted to.

“Oh those assholes waited for me to get out of the shower,” I said growling at the memory. Those assholes had to have planned it, and nothing either of them could say would convince me otherwise. That kind of bad luck just doesn’t exist without somebody else pre-planning it.

“Wouldn’t it have made them considerate? If they waited for you to get out of the shower?” she said sweetly enough that I almost popped with rage.

“One of those fuckers talked, didn’t they?” I said my gaze was almost burning a hole in her.

“Yep,” Ess replied joyfully, “But hey, if you want to tell me how you think it goes it might make more sense.”

“It would make plenty of sense,” I said rolling my eyes at the ceiling, “Because the boys are idiots. Not because they are boys, but because they’re Owen and Johna.”

“And a little because there boys,” she added, expecting me to be on board with that.

“Nope,” I told her, popping the p, “I do not play the sexist bullshit game, in any way shape or form. They’re stupid, because they are them, and them can be really freaking dumb.” She stares at me for a moment, while choosing how to reply.

“Try saying that five times fast, I don’t even think that makes grammatical sense,” she heckled teasingly. I didn’t think it was that complicated, but whatever. “So where was the issue?” she asked like I was her purely to girl-talk and gossip, for her personal amusement.

“The issue was I was wearing a towel,” I hissed at her, and she looked at me in disappointment.

“So?” she cried, “That’s it?”

“That towel came off, and I swear they did it on purpose because there was no way that a string of accidents that ridiculous, is naturally occuring,” I said getting mildly furious just thinking about it, “I’d just gotten out of the shower, and…”

****