Friends Elsewhere

Friends Elsewhere

By Steve Laker

Looking down at his muddy shoes as he pushed the revolving door, Jon
realised that he looked out of place. He walked hurriedly across the
marble floor to the reception desk.

"Hello stranger," said Clare. "Haven't seen you for a while." She
picked a pile of papers from a wire basket.

"I know, I've had a lot to do." Jon looked around. "I can't say I like
this place." He fumbled with some loose change in his pocket. "They
said they'd phone me when he woke up though." He looked a little
nervous to Clare. She looked at the clock on the wall behind Jon.

"You got here quick. Doctor Fisher must've only phoned about an hour
ago."

"I came straight from work when she phoned." He paused. "How's
Vince?"

"The doctor finishes at five. She'd be able to tell you exactly how he
is, so if you wanted to speak to her before she goes, you've just got
time."

"I'll go straight in if that's okay?"

"Sure. He's a bit groggy though."

"Is he talking?"

"A little. You'll really have to speak to the doctor, but it would seem
that there's no permanent brain damage. He knows about his injuries
though and he's a bit down." Clare took a sheet of paper from the
pile.

"Does he remember what happened?"

"He's showing the classic signs of amnesia. He remembers the immediate
past, like when I was in there just now, he remembered that I'd been in
earlier. We've not had enough time to talk to him yet, but he seems to
recall old memories as well. He's talked about some things that
happened in his childhood, and he remembers you. He knows he's here,
but he can't grasp why." Clare was glancing at the sheet she was
holding as she spoke.

"That's good, that he remembers me. If only we knew what had happened,"
Jon was looking down at his bag.

"Hopefully, if you talk to him, he might remember. He remembers some of
the things I said to him while he was still out, so that could be a
sign that he's regaining some of his memories."

"What things?"

"Oh, just little things. Sometimes I'd pop in to him after my shift and
tell him what I was up to that night or whatever. He asked how my
boyfriend was just now." Clare placed the sheet of paper back in the
pile. "I'm surprised he remembered anything at all. I hope he doesn't
remember everything I told him." Clare's cheeks flushed as she smiled.
"Anyway, you two have got a lot of catching up to do. You must go back
a long way, he remembers you at school."

"We grew up together." Their conversation was interrupted when the
telephone on the reception desk rang. Jon only caught parts of the
conversation, but he could tell that Clare was answering
questions.

"Okay", she said, before replacing the receiver. "The police will want
to speak to Vince now that he's awake. I said it might be a good idea
to see how you got on first."

"What did they say?"

"Fine. They'll call tomorrow."

"Oh good. Gives me a chance to talk to him without being interrupted.
Listen, could you do me a favour? Could you put these in some water?"
Jon produced a small bunch of white Lilies from his bag, neatly wrapped
in violet crepe paper, tied with a purple ribbon, and placed them on
the desk.

"Oh, those are lovely." Clare picked up the flowers and cradled the
blooms in her hand as she admired them. "There's a vase in the back
room somewhere, I'll see if I can find it. You go through and I'll
bring them in."

The door to room six creaked as it opened. "Jon? That you boy?" Vince's
deep voice resonated from inside. "Get in here!" Although somewhat
husky, the voice was just as Jon remembered hearing it last, seemingly
a lifetime before. He paused. "If you don't get in here, I'm coming out
to get you mate." Vince certainly hadn't lost his warped sense of
humour. Gathering his thoughts, Jon entered the room. As the door swung
closed behind him he became aware of the heat in the room. Vince raised
his head from the pillow, as if looking through the bandages that
covered his eyes. "Jon?"

"Hello mate." Jon put his bag down at the foot of the bed and walked
across the room. "Shall I open the window? It's hot in here."

"Clare says that's to allow the germs to breed, so they can keep us in
here longer."

"You and her get on well then? She was just talking about you
actually."

"She's a nice girl. Comes in here sometimes when she's finished her
shift."

"Yeah, she said. Listen mate, I'm really sorry I haven't been here."
Jon was struggling with the catch on the window.

"Tell you the truth, I only remember bits of what she's said anyway.
She says that's a good sign though. It means my memory's coming
back."

"She said that to me too. There, got it." Jon freed the window and
flecks of misty rain fell on the sill, before spreading forward as
though advanced by some invisible miniature army.

"That's nice," Vince said as a cool breeze blew in. Jon turned to face
him and noticed the faint glimmer of a smile. He felt sadness in the
fact that Vince appreciated something so simple. Vince was now a mere
shadow of the friend Jon had grown up with. Beneath the bandages were
eyes that might never see again, and beneath the sheets the bottom of
the bed was empty where his legs once were. "Come and sit down." Jon
was stirred from his thoughts as Vince patted the chair next to the bed
and tried to think of what to say next.

"They say you're getting your memory back. Do you remember anything
about the accident yet?"

"Clare said I crashed my car. She said I was drunk and that the police
want to speak to me. I'd never do that though." Vince gestured toward
the foot of the bed with his head. "When did all this happen?"

"About a month ago now. You remember that shirt you bought?"

"No, why?"

"We were going clubbing and you wanted a new shirt."

"No, I can't remember." He frowned as he struggled to think. "This is
so frustrating. Help me Jon, please." He held out his hand. His voice
was breaking and Jon noticed a tear roll down his cheek from beneath
the bandages. He clasped Vince's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Hey, come on. It'll all come back, you know it will. You've just got
to give it time."

"Jon, you know that's not what I'm talking about. Look at me will you?
Would you want to spend the rest of your life like this?" By now Vince
was finding it difficult to control his stammering voice. Jon thought
of how he could possibly answer this question, but was at a loss. Vince
was facing him and the sight of his pained expression was too much for
Jon. He leaned forward and pulled Vince toward him, throwing his arm
around the back of his neck and embracing him. Vince held Jon tightly,
and sobbed into his shoulder.

"I can't go on like this Jon. Help me will you?" Vince's voice was
muffled. Jon held him tighter and patted his back.

"Hang on in there, everything will be okay, you'll see." Vince lifted
his head and Jon gently lay him back down. He looked as though he was
thinking. "What is it?" Jon asked.

"Blue, wasn't it?"

"What?"

"My shirt."

"Yes it was. You see? It's coming back."

"No." Vince shook his head. "Jon, help me."

"Don't talk like that Vince." Jon tried to think of a way to change the
subject. "Do you want a drink? I'm parched." Vince shook his head
again. The bandages covering his eyes were wet. He sniffed sharply and
composed himself.

"Yeah, please."

"Got any concentrate?"

"There's some orange in the cabinet."

"Want some?"

"Please." Vince listened as Jon poured the drinks. First a short
trickle sound as the orange went into the first glass, then the second.
Then a longer trickle as Jon added the water. It was a distinctly
different sound to the first and Vince wondered at how enhanced his
hearing had become without his sight, able, as he was to tell the
difference between different liquids being poured.

"You like it strong don't you?"

"Yes please". Vince listened to a third pouring sound as Jon added
extra concentrate to the first glass, then the second.

"There you go." Jon handed Vince a glass.

"Cheers." Vince took a few gulps and handed the glass back to Jon.
"Didn't I buy some shoes as well?"

"Yes you did. Do you remember the assistant? You liked her."

"Come to think of it, didn't I have a hole in my sock and she said
something about getting a new pair?"

"That's right. Then you said something about her darning them for you.
I think that's where you lost out." Jon chuckled and noticed a smile
appear on Vince's face.

"Did I get ready at your place? And we finished off that bottle of
vodka you had."

"That's right." Jon picked up his drink and took a gulp. "You want the
rest of this?" He pressed Vince's glass against his hand.

"Cheers." Vince lifted his head again and gulped the rest of the
orange. "So, did I leave my car at yours?"

"Yeah, we got a cab."

Jon yawned. "Sorry mate, nothing personal."

"Don't worry," Vince said, yawning "it's contagious. What's the
time?"

"Half five."

"Is that all? Clare'll be in soon. She finishes at six."

"I'll go if you like. I know you like to talk."

"No, don't worry. She's going out tonight. Didn't you meet
someone?"

"Sorry?"

"At the club, Sarah wasn't it?"

"No, I was with you all night. You're getting confused."

"I must be. Sorry mate, I'm tired."

"Don't worry. It'll all come back soon." Jon drained the last few drops
of his drink from the glass and looked at Vince. His eyebrows were
rising above the bandages as though he were trying to remain awake.
"You okay Vince?"

"I'm sorry. I know you can't see this Jon, but my eyes are closed under
here, and I'm finding it very hard to open them. Do you mind if I have
a nap?"

"No, not at all. I'm feeling a bit tired myself. I'll hang around here
for a while then I'll get myself off. If you're out when I go, sleep
well okay?"

"Yeah, you too." Vince was beginning to slur his words, and felt that
he could fight it no longer. He gave up struggling to keep his eyes
open.

As he drifted off to sleep, the memories gradually continued to return.
He remembered the argument with the taxi driver, and then he and Jon
going into the club. He remembered drinking pitchers of beer, before
moving on to cocktails. Then Jon disappeared for a while, but his
memory was blurred.

He eventually found Jon outside, with a girl. Jon introduced them:
"Vince, Sarah. Sarah, Vince" and they shook hands. Jon said that Sarah
was staying at his flat. Vince then remembered how the argument had
started: Tonight had supposed to be just him and Jon, the club, a pizza
and a film. Vince was a little jealous, but realised he was
over-reacting and blamed the drink. He shared a cab with Jon and Sarah,
back to the flat, but sensed that perhaps he wasn't wanted. He recalled
mentioning this to Jon. This was their night, as it was every week, and
Jon was pushing him out.

By now the memories were rushing into his head and he struggled to
speak. In his dream-like state, he could hear his own words in his head
but was unable to move his mouth and be heard. He was arguing with Jon.
The sound of the argument was drowned by the images in front of his
closed eyes. Vivid, shifting shapes, swirling in front of him as he
struggled to think, speak and breathe.

The sound of his breathing grew heavy in his head, and still the
memories continued to flood his mind. Jon was shouting at him to leave
and he tried to shout back, but he had lost all control. Jon was best
left alone and so he left, slamming the door behind him, and stumbled
to his car. He expected Jon to follow, but as he sat contemplating the
moment, Jon was nowhere to be seen.
He fumbled with his keys in the ignition and eventually managed to
start the car. Glancing up for one final moment at Jon's flat, he
realised he might have lost his only real friend that night.

He sped onto the road and, with so much emotion now inside him, just
wanted to be home and away from the night that he'd experienced.
Tomorrow's light would cast a whole new image on the situation, he
thought.

As he drifted further asleep, the fight to stay awake became futile.
Suddenly he felt an incredible jolt and a searing pain rushed through
his whole body. There was a sickening sound of twisting metal and
breaking glass, then silence and darkness descended.

Blue flashing lights danced across his eyes and he could hear voices
around him, but could not make out what they were saying. He was aware
of a creeping numbness in his legs, and pressure on his face. His
vision became even more blurred and he was aware of a warm, damp
feeling across his eyes and face, then incredible pain. He fought, but
he couldn't wake himself. Infinite blackness
engulfed him.

Clare quietly opened the door and peeped into the room. She was
carrying the vase that she'd found after so much searching. It was
filled with water, and Jon's flowers were now beautifully arranged. She
smiled at the sight of the two friends asleep. Not wishing to wake
them, she crept across the room and placed the vase on the cabinet. She
propped the envelope that she had found tucked under the ribbon,
against the vase and could not resist a peek at the card inside.
Opening the envelope quietly, she lifted the card out just far enough
to read the message:

"To my best friend - I'm so sorry. See you soon in a better
place."

? Steve Laker, 1999 - 2000