‘Give me five minutes.’ I slip my phone into my pocket. ‘I just need to check on a patient. I’ll let you know when I’m done.’
I enter Rory’s room – six years old, tonsils and adenoids, funny little laugh, freckles, pet monkey called Fred. According to one of the nurses, Rory’s been a bit sulky this morning and it’s imperative I address Fred in my best monkey voice. By now I have monkeys, donkeys, giraffes and elephants nailed. ‘Afternoon, Fred!’
Rory giggles. His mother smiles to herself.
‘How’s your friend Rory feeling today?’
‘Okay,’ replies Rory, sitting up straighter.
‘Mind if I check him out?’
Rory nods.
‘Okay, this won’t take a second.’ I assess Rory to make sure he’s ready to be discharged today, and when I see he is, I turn to his mother and brief her on all the usual things to avoid and be mindful of.
‘Fred, I hereby declare Rory ready to go home. But before you go, you need to decide: gold star or—’ I pull a small jar from my pocket ‘—magic jelly beans?’
Rory laughs. ‘Jelly beans.’
‘Please,’ interjects his mum.
‘They’re magic. And the magic only works if you eat one at a time and brush your teeth every day. Make sure you let Rory know.’ I ruffle Rory’s hair and hand him the jar. ‘Good job, sport. You were brave. Make sure you share the jelly beans with Fred.’
After I finish my rounds, I dash downstairs to pick up two takeaway coffees. As I’m ordering, someone taps me on the shoulder.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ says Miranda. She’s dyed her hair lighter, and she’s wearing another pantsuit, this time in a shade of dusty blue.
‘Let me guess, you got the job?’ I ask, clocking her official lanyard.
‘I sure did,’ she says, with a smile that reaches her eyes.
‘And it’s going well?’
‘It’s going great, actually. I love it.’ She takes a sip of the coffee the barista has just handed over and eyes me over the rim of her cup. ‘So, uh… I heard about your baby, Nick. I’m really sorry.’
It shouldn’t, but this throws me. Miranda is a psychologist and, yes, we work in the same hospital, and it isn’t exactly a secret, but this is a big hospital. How on earth does she know about Max?
She touches my arm softly. ‘I found out purely by accident. The lady in the gift shop… Cindy? I go in every week to pick up little presents for my patients. Erasers – giraffes, elephants, ice creams… cute shapes. They smell like bubblegum and the kids love them. Anyway, she was telling me about what had happened while she was putting some flowers together, and I noticed your name on the card. I’m sorry to spring that on you.’
I’m pretty sure at this point I look like a fish that’s been hauled out of water and can’t wait to jump back into the ocean. This is the thing about losing someone – you want people to talk about it, yet when they do, you don’t know what to say.
‘It’s hard isn’t it – to find a way to talk about it?’
Somehow, I manage to find my voice. ‘Yes, but it’s fine. Thank you for asking about Max. Paige and I are doing okay. Nice seeing you again.’
I couldn’t sound more awkward if I tried. What’s worse, Miranda follows me out, the sound of her heels click-clacking behind me.
‘Nick?’
I spin around.
‘You forgot your coffees.’ She thrusts the tray in my direction. ‘My husband, Jake. He died last year. I know what it’s like to lose someone precious. So, if you want to talk… I’m here. I volunteered as a counsellor for a pregnancy and newborn bereavement organisation for six years, but I can also lend an ear, as a friend… if you need one. Give me a call. We can do coffee or beer, or we can just stand around in the foyer chatting.’
I give her a half-hearted smile. It’s a nice offer, but I hardly know her. ‘Sorry about your husband.’
‘I know it’s only been a couple of months but it does get easier, I promise.’ She says this with conviction, like it’s almost guaranteed.
Strangely, she sounds convincing enough that I actually believe her.
‘Okay, two coffees, one with a double shot,’ I say to Ben as I enter the tea room. ‘What’s up?’
Ben slides a muesli bar out of a wrapper and bites into it. The guy lives on muesli bars and Granny Smith apples. ‘Just wanted to see how things were going for you. Is there anything I can do? What I mean is… do you need anything?’
Ben and I met in our first year at medical school and he was my best man. Later this year I’ll be his when he finally ties the knot with Pamela, his on-and-off girlfriend for the past six years. And in all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him stumble over his words the way he is now.
‘Thanks, but I’m okay. To be honest, it’s Paige I’m worried about. She’s still not herself.’
‘Understandable. Pamela said she would try to pop past your place to see her this week. She wasn’t sure if it would be too soon? Do you think she’d be okay with her visiting?’
‘Yeah, course. I’m sure she’d like that.’ In reality, as much as Paige adores Pamela – they bonded over their love for the royals – I suspect she won’t. It might be easier to arrange a dinner out for the four of us together, but then again, trying to get Paige to socialise with anyone at the moment seems impossible.
My stomach rumbles, loud enough that Ben can probably hear it. I help myself to an apple from the fruit bowl. I haven’t had a thing to eat all day. ‘You want to go for a beer sometime next week?’ I rub the apple against my shirt and bite into it.
Ben’s shoulders relax. ‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Let me know when it suits.’ He finishes the rest of his muesli bar and tosses the wrapper in the bin. ‘And Nick – if there’s anything at all. Just—’
‘I’ll let you know,’ I say, pasting on my most reassuring smile.
‘If you need time off, we can work it out. I can cover… we’ll make it work.’
‘No need.’
‘You’ve been spending a lot of time here, that’s all. So I thought…’
‘I’m good, Ben,’ I say, chewing on my apple. I’m not going to explain to Ben that being at work helps me to forget. And going home, being at home, is when I remember.
I readjust the satchel on my shoulder and head for the door. ‘After-work drinks next week. Just let me know where.’
In a way, you could say that our life started spiralling out of control the moment we got home from hospital. I’m trying. Really trying. But nothing seems to be working. With each passing day, Paige seems more distant than ever.
Paris for Two is our favourite restaurant. It’s French-inspired and it reminds us of our trip there four years ago. Paige is sitting at a table in the far-right corner of the restaurant, the same one we sat at the first time we discovered this place. Her hair is down, gentle curls resting on her shoulders. It’s pinned back at the front, giving it a softer look, making her look younger. She hasn’t styled her hair like this in ages. She’s wearing a floral blouse with a pair of jeans, and to look at her you’d never know that not all that long ago she had to say the hardest goodbye of her life. The woman in front of me looks like my wife, but there’s a vacancy in her eyes, an emptiness that makes me want to reach out and pull her into my arms. Will I ever get her back? Will Paige – the fun-loving girl I met all those years ago – ever be the same?