Fire 2

I opened one eye and saw the light coming through the crack in Joel’s curtains. As I moved slightly I winced. My knee really fucking hurt when I tried to bend it and my head was thumping too. That was probably due to the bottle of whiskey we’d drunk. It had been the only thing we been able to find in the flat the night before, after I’d spoken to Spider. Normally I couldn’t bear whiskey – and this had been single malt or something; it had tasted disgusting, but it had got us pissed, which had been the whole point. Joel had said he’d think up some reason for it being missing later on. I slid one leg out of bed and tried to stand up

“Ow fuck! My ankle!”

I looked down and it was all swollen up and had gone a funny shade of blue. Joel opened his eyes; then closed them again. He made a groaning noise. I threw an empty cigarette pack at him.

“I need some coffee desperately.”

“There is no coffee. Please don’t throw stuff. I’m not well,” he said in a low voice

Then something extraordinary happened. T took his head out from under his blanket, and rose up. He didn’t swear or anything. He put his jeans on, then his pointy white shoes, and then he went out of the room and we could hear him closing the door to the flat shortly after that. I closed my eyes again for what seemed like a second – the light was so bright -, and then amazingly he was back, holding a jar of coffee. I opened my mouth to thank him, and then I realised why he was being so uncharacteristically nice – he must be sorry for me. Shit. Then I remembered everything.

I was dreading the phone call from Matt. God, it was all such a mess. Obviously I wasn’t going to chuck Adam now that he’d come off his bike, but I’d have to eventually – telling Joel and T the night before that it was basically over, had made it more real somehow – and I felt Adam would know what I was thinking of the minute he looked in my eyes.

I hated being horrible – hated it – I felt like such a shit; and now, there he was lying in some hospital bed, and I was trying to work out how soon I could dump him. It made everything a million times worse. I looked across at Joel and T. and felt so glad they were there. Nothing was totally hopeless with them around. I’d ask them what they thought the best way was later on – if we all put our heads together we’d be bound to think up something.

An hour later we were in a taxi, paid for on The Hollywood Legend’s account - luckily he hadn’t sussed us out yet - heading for the Whittington hospital. It was pretty grim when we arrived. I looked at the peeling paintwork, and the dirty windows and I was glad I wasn’t stuck in there. The corridors smelt depressingly of disinfectant as we wandered along trying to find the right ward. I don’t think any of us felt very comfortable. I was so glad the others had come with me – it would have been much worse on my own. They might distract Adam from looking in my eyes.

Joel spotted him first – he was lying in one corner of a small room. There were three other beds and he was the only person there under the age of eighty from the looks of things. A large West Indian nurse was fiddling with a drip by one of the other beds, singing a hymn in a loud voice. She looked up and smiled at us when we came in;

“More visitors for Mr. Popular” she said, “my goodness you have a lot of friends darlin’!”

Adam watched as we came towards him. He looked as pale as the sheets on the bed. His face was scratched a little, and one arm was in a sling

There were some chairs around him so we arranged ourselves in them. I felt very awkward, and I could tell the others did too. I tried to smile at Adam, but it was all very uncomfortable;

“How are you?”

“I’m ok – a bit tired”

There was a silence, and we all looked around – at the walls, the ceiling, the beds – everywhere except Adam. Then T. cleared his throat,

“What happened man?”

“That bend at the top – you know? I was banking and the bike came out from under me”

T. sighed sympathetically,

“It’s a bastard that bend …how’s the bike?”

Adam shook his head.

“Not good”

I shifted in the chair – it was hard and slippery.

“When d’you think you’ll be able to come home? What’s actually wrong?”

Just then we heard the doors being pushed open and Matt came in with a bottle of lucozade. Adam looked relieved and sank back into the pillow. Matt smiled at us.

“What’s actually wrong is him thinking he can surf the tarmac. - deeply unstylish. His arm is fucked, and his collarbone, and his jeans. He can’t come home until they’ve made sure his head is ok – probably tomorrow. I’ve told them he’s always this thick but they don’t believe me”

Then he turned to me directly

“Once I’ve got him home, he’s not meant to be on his own for a few days. While I’m at work do you think you could…..?” He stopped and waited for my reply

My heart sank at the thought – It would be even more obvious when it was just the two of us stuck in that big empty house. Then Joel came to the rescue, like he always did. I think he had some special power to make things better.

“Hey – we’ll all come – it’ll be more fun that way, won’t it?”

He looked at T. who smiled a little too brightly

“Yeah, yeah sure. Great idea”

Just then the nurse put her head around the door, and told Matt that there were another four people waiting outside to see Adam, and we all sprang up rather too eagerly, scraping our chairs loudly on the shiny floor.

As we sat on the little wall outside, waiting for our taxi, I squeezed Joel’s arm in gratitude, and thought I’d give boyfriends a miss for a while after this one. Friends were much better.