Getting over Gabe

C H A P T E R 29

C H A P T E R 29

It all felt so unreal. More unreal than being in Dublin, more unreal than Cam liking me. This sort of thing didn’t happen to me. It happened to other people. I was meant to read about it in the newspaper, not experience it.

They came and loaded him onto the stretcher, putting his neck in a brace though the medics said they were pretty sure he hadn’t damaged his spinal cord.  They strapped in his leg with big thick black Velcro straps. He winced at that. That was the only time he really showed emotion.  Through the journey to the hospital he kept looking up at me and smiling weakly, though it looked more like a grimace. I think he was trying to reassure me but it didn’t work.  The ambulance bumped along the road, Cam wincing at every turn, but I didn’t complain as much as I may have liked to, because I knew we had to get to the hospital as soon as possible. The journey seemed to take such a long time, and it was all such a muddle. The only thing anchoring me, keeping me sane, was my grasp on Cam’s hand. The rest was all a blur of shouting and sirens and green uniforms.  

I forgot about Dog until the next morning; everything was so chaotic and he’d just slipped my mind. I guessed that he’d be okay, because he looked old and worn, like he’d survived on the streets all his life, and I was sure he would befriend someone else. And anyway, Cam was taking up most of my thoughts right then,

As soon as we got to the hospital he was sent in for the scan, while I was left outside with the doctors.  Everyone rushed around madly and questioned me, asked me things I didn’t know. I had no idea what to do and I felt so swamped. All I could think about was his face, his body lying there on the ground in the orange light of the street light. And I just thought about everything that had happened in the last few days.  I needed someone to talk to, not doctors, nurses, medical students. Not the old lady sitting next to me on the bench with a crutch, and white curly hair. I needed someone I knew, and trusted.

They asked me what his name was, and at first I didn’t answer, I just stood there, gaping at them, not sure whether to tell them or not. In the end I told them. Because even though I knew Cam would be angry with me, I knew I’d me more annoyed at myself if I didn’t.  And then they asked us where we lived, and I shrugged.

‘Nowhere.’ I told them, because I didn’t think an address in Britain would help them, and in Ireland we didn’t live anywhere.

And then they asked who they could call, if anyone, and I glanced over at the doors Cam had just been wheeled through, to be scanned, and I said, ‘No, no one. ‘

The night just carried on and on, minutes felt like hours, and I was left alone, at one point, in a waiting room outside. All I could think about was his face. His still form on the road. And I started to shiver, and to breathe fast. And one doctor came out and kneeled so he was at my level, because I was sitting on a small padded chair next to the window with a potted plant on the sill.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Katy.’ I said back, but I wasn’t really there. ‘Do you have any news? How is he?’

‘He’s… he’s not good, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh.’ I said, and I looked out of the window, to the road outside, and the parked cars in the hospital lot, and the orange street lights, just like the ones from the petrol station, and I started to shiver more.

‘I mean, he’s lucky to be here. He has three broken ribs, and we thought that he had a punctured lung because of his breathing problems, but now we think it’s only shock, and that he’s in pain because of his ribs.’

‘Right. Is he stable?’

‘He’s stable. Although he does have a terrible concussion which could potentially do him some damage if he falls unconscious for a while, he should be okay.’