Damaged Memories

Part 17

"Thanks for coming over, I know you're busy with the shop," Grace muttered as she sipped the soothing hot chocolate Emma had just handed her.

"I've got Maria covering for me today, so it's no problem."

Grace sighed and glanced at her watch. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and she still hadn't heard from Patrick, despite calling him a number of times after finding the empty pill packet on the bench. She was desperately worried about his state of mind and was praying he hadn't done anything careless, like turning up to work high on drugs, a move that could potentially put his career in jeopardy. Hopefully, he'd instead slept them off overnight and taken himself off to work, probably with a slight hangover. But even if that was the case, Grace was concerned. The fact that he'd slipped up was a huge deal and she didn't know how she was going to broach the subject with him when he got home from work.

When Grace's phone started ringing on the bench she must have jumped three inches in anticipation, but when she glanced at Emma, her face said it all. She was shaking her head gently, her eyes downcast. "It's not him. It's Charlie."

Grace rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the couch, sinking deeper into the leather, wishing it would swallow her whole. "Argh, can you please talk to him? I'm not really in the mood for more apologies."

"Of course," Emma said before she grabbed Grace's phone and swiftly left the room, leaving Grace to stew over the events of the night before.

She just wished she could transport herself back to New York when they were blissfully happy at Christmas time, surrounded by family and looking forward to the future. If she had the ability to time travel then she'd also go back to Sam's fortieth birthday, disallowing Charlie to kiss her at the karaoke bar, stopping at two tequila shots and catching a taxi home early to greet Patrick on the doorstep when he arrived home from work.

"Grace!" Emma yelled frantically as she ran back into the lounge, startling Grace from her trip back in time, her face as white as the Egyptian cotton sheets on her bed. She was visibly shaken so Grace clambered up from the couch and was at her sister's side in an instant. "It's Patrick," she added.

"What?"

"He's been hit by a car outside Charlie's house – he's been taken to hospital."

"What?! Is he ok?"

But the expression on Emma's face was evidence that he wasn't ok. She was biting her bottom lip and looked as though she was forcing back tears, shaking her head gently.

"He's unconscious."

"No! No, no, no, no, no," Grace said as she shook her head vigorously, trying to wake herself up from her disturbing nightmare. "No, no, no, no this isn't happening!" Then she felt her sister gripping her biceps, trying to settle her.

"Grace, calm down, let's just get to the hospital."

"This isn't happening," she repeated, like if she said it enough times, it might actually come to fruition, like the power of positive thinking.

"Listen to me. I'm sure he'll be fine! We just need to get to the hospital."

"What if I lose him too?"

"You won't."

"This is all my fault," Grace whispered as she broke away from Emma and began pacing up and down the lounge, her mind spiralling into a dark abyss.

"Hey!!" Emma suddenly shouted at the top of her voice, halting Grace in her tracks whose eyes were wide with fear. "You need to calm the fuck down," she continued. "Now pull yourself together and get your ass in my car, now. I'll drive you."