Forked Roads Back

31 - ARCHIE

WHEN I FINALLY GET through Thursday afternoon New York City traffic, I find Lara on the pavement outside Al's Bar, tapping on her phone.

I smile, knowing she's probably playing some kind of game, but I peep my horn and she looks up quickly, smiling when she sees me.

She waves, grabbing her stick before hobbling towards the car. I lean sideways and open the door before she gets there. She jumps in with a sigh and wraps her arms around my neck.

"This must be important if I get a private chauffeur and everything," she jokes. "But I appreciate it."

I shrug. "Not a problem. It's been too long since I've seen you, and I couldn't make you walk to my place could I?"

"Yeah, twenty blocks. My leg would never have forgiven you."

I automatically glance down at her leg at her comment. After what she'd told us at Christmas, about both the accident and what her dad did, she'd come a long way. Her leg finally healed, and she was able to accept what the doctors had been trying to tell her, which meant she was finally able to understand why her dad made the choice. She still hadn't spoken to him, but at least she now understood.

But she'd told us more. She told us about her brother, the brother that was driving the boat when her mum got killed. Billy had been in a coma for months, but just before Christmas she got a call from the hospital saying he was awake. She'd gone to see him, but the doctors told her he had a condition called TBI - Traumatic Brain Injury - and that his behaviour could be erratic. Doctors had told both her and her dad that the condition could last the rest of his life or with therapy he could get through it, but so far neither of them had been able to get through to him.

"Is Millie at the apartment yet?" she asks, jogging my brain away from Billy.

I laugh, "No, not yet. Ollie's there now. Well, he's out at a movie at the moment, but he's living with me now."

"Oh that's good. I liked him. It's good you aren't on your own," she says, patting my knee before taking my hand.

I look over at her briefly before looking back at the road, but we don't say anything more for the rest of the journey.

***

WHEN WE GET BACK to the apartment, I park my car in the underground car park and get out first, grabbing her crutch and helping her out of the car. Once we're upstairs, I sit her down and fuss over her for about ten minutes until I feel a sharp swat on the back of my head.

"Dude!" I complain. "What the hell was that for?"

She laughs and pushes herself up, sitting cross-legged. "Well, you've brought me here to talk about something and then you aren't saying anything. So sit," she points to the sofa next to her, "and spill."

I chuckle. Her honesty and her no-nonsense attitude is refreshing. To be honest, it reminds me of Matt. He would just come out and say things like that, but more often than not, he would be right.

"Sit," she says again, pointing at the soft, so I sigh before sitting down next to her, wondering where the hell I should start.

"So you know I've told you loads?"

She shrugs in response. I hadn't told her that much, but what I had told her was pretty big. I'd told her about the accident, and about Tessa, which is more than I'd told many others.

"Well I never told you about my dad..."

Her eyebrows raise as she sits forward. "Your dad?"

"Yeah. I don't really talk about him because he's... Well, he's in prison."