Carlie’s words usually meant nothing. She liked to lay down the law but her comments about Shun made me shudder. It was like she knew more than she was letting on. But that crack had been aimed at Holden, not me, and there was no way she’d know anything about things that had gone on before I even came to the bar.
“You don’t need to be best mates with your band,” I said. “If they do their job well and stick out of your private life, that’s probably best all round.”
“Like Alex, you mean?” Holden said. He gave a little laugh. It was well known that Alex treated his bandmates like they were his staff. Well looked after staff but Alex’s band was all about him.
“Maybe not taking it that far. You can be friends but, when you’re on the road, you need space from each other too.”
“Space that’s him on one side of the country and us on the other, that’s the kind of space I want to give him,” Carlie wiped the bar like she was scrubbing Shun out of their lives.
She moved off to serve someone.
Eventually, Gina came into the bar. She down beside me and talked to me about her job. I’d told her so many times she needed to stand up for herself and, finally, she’d begun doing something about it. I didn’t want to interrupt her to talk about myself.
When she finished talking, I wasn’t sure what to say. I got the papers out of my pocket and put them on the bar, sliding them along to her.
She picked them up and read through them.
I twirled my glass in my hand while I waited for her to finish reading.
“You’re doing this?”
I nodded as the smile blossomed on her face.
“Don’t say anything,” I said. “I just need someone to be with me after the surgery.”
“Of course,” she said. She didn’t need to add any more and had the sense to know it wasn’t needed. Instead, she just nodded and made me feel better by just being beside me.
Chapter 23 Gina
JACKSON WENT INTO SURGERY. We wouldn’t find out if it was successful for months, but I still paced his room. I wanted to be at the hospital when he came out. I’d taken a few days off work so I could spend the time with him. When he’d asked me to be with him through the surgery, I’d almost jumped for joy.
He’d agreed to have the surgery done. It was the best thing for him, I just knew it. He wasn’t happy at how things stood. He needed to go after that happiness, to make those changes in his life.
Maybe I should do the same. I hated my job. It wasn’t the kind of work I’d ever wanted to do but, when I left school, I was willing to take anything just to get out of the town where I lived. I had to get away from my mother before I smothered her in her sleep. I had to get away from everyone knowing everyone else’s business.
“You’ll never survive in the city,” Mum had said when I left. “Give it a couple of weeks and you’ll be back.”
That’d never happen, though. I’d die in the streets before I went back there. I’d started the job with my law firm the first week I’d hit town and figured it’d be okay for a while. It paid me enough that I could afford my apartment and my books. I never cared about much else. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life but I sure as hell didn’t want to spend it typing up legal briefs.
A nurse popped her head in.
“He won’t be back for a few hours, love. You should go get something to eat.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
“They always say that but it’s not fine. If you stay in this room, stressing about it all, when he comes back, you’ll be all strung out and vague from lack of food. Get a sandwich or something to keep your energy up. Do it for his sake as much as your own.”
She smiled. I saw the sense in what she said, even though I doubted I could eat much. I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.
“Good decision. It’s bad when the visitors are the ones fainting.”
The hospital cafe wasn’t pleasant. They’d made an effort to make it look like an actual cafe and not part of the hospital, with brightly colored tables and lots of greenery, but you could still smell that hospital smell and hear the announcements over the PA. I went outside to a small courtyard. At least I had fresh air.
A family sat at a table near me with a little boy about eight years old. He was in a wheelchair and had a drip in his arm. He was so thin but he smiled and laughed.
I should settle the hell down. Jackson’s surgery was routine and he wasn’t exactly in a life-threatening situation. It wasn’t like I had a sick child. So many people in this place had it worse than me. Jackson would come out of the surgery fine and, whether he healed or not, he’d still have his health. The hand thing worried him, and I’d love him to have the ability to play guitar again, but for me, it wasn’t something I needed. If he had use of his hand or not, my feelings for him wouldn’t change. I just hated seeing him miserable.
But it wasn’t terminal or even that huge a deal in the overall scheme of things. Not like the family beside me.