Lifesaving for Beginners Read Free

Anatomy .’
    ‘Can’t you be serious for a moment?’
    ‘I’m as serious as a car crash.’
    ‘That’s not funny.’
    ‘It’s a little bit funny.’
    Thomas nods, thank Christ. He’s not usually like this. He’s usually got quite a good SOH, as Minnie calls it. Even though she’s got Maurice and they’ve been smugly coupled up for years, she still reads the ads. For me, she says. I don’t know if she does it anymore. The Thomas situation has been going on a fair while now. Maybe a year and a half.
    Although I think Thomas said, ‘Twenty-two months, actually,’ when I mentioned it the other day.
    Thomas says, ‘Do you remember the accident?’
    I nod. ‘Sort of.’
    ‘What do you remember?’ He can be such a journalist sometimes.
    ‘There was a deer on the road.’ What the hell was a deer doing on the road? ‘There was a truck. It swerved. Really suddenly. And there was a car. In front of me, I think. A yellow one. Really bright yellow. Something about a banana written on it. Then the airbag exploded in my face and then . . . I don’t know . . . I don’t think I remember anything else.’
    ‘You could have died.’
    ‘Are you going to keep on saying that?’
    ‘That woman . . . the one in the yellow car. She . . . she died.’
    ‘You’re not going to cry, are you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Thank Christ.’
    Thomas stands up. Walks to the door. Pauses. Looks back at me.
    I say, ‘Can you get the doctor?’
    ‘Are you feeling OK?’ He looks worried, like maybe I’ve got a brain tumour or something.
    ‘I want to know when I can get out of here.’
    ‘I’m sure they’ll want to monitor you for another while. You’ve been out cold.’
    ‘I just want everything to get back to normal.’
    He looks at me then. Says, ‘No.’ Like we’re in the middle of an argument.
    ‘What do you mean, no?’
    ‘I mean no. Things are different now. You could have died.’
    ‘Can you stop saying that?’
    ‘We’ve wasted enough time.’
    I manage to prop myself up on my elbows. I ignore the pain in my head. My body. I need to nip this in the bud. I say, ‘Look, there’s no need for all this. I didn’t die. I’m fine.’
    ‘I don’t care.’ Thomas closes the door. Puts his back against it so no one can come in. There’s a feeling in my chest and I think it might be disquiet. ‘I’m just going to say it.’
    ‘I wish you wouldn’t.’
    ‘I know. But I’m going to say it anyway. I love you.’
    ‘Where are my clothes? I need to get out of here.’
    ‘I want to get married.’
    ‘Congratulations. Who’s the lucky lady?’
    ‘And I’d love to have a baby.’
    ‘Good for you. They’re making huge leaps in human biology these days so I’m thinking, any day now.’
    ‘Can you stop joking around, just for a minute?’
    ‘How about a peace settlement in the Middle East while we’re at it?’
    He sighs then. ‘I’m going to get the doctor.’
    ‘Good idea. See how she’s getting on with that cure for pancreatic cancer.’
    It’s only when Thomas leaves the room that I notice how quiet everything is. Quiet as a grave, Thomas would probably say in his current maudlin form. There’s pain down my right side. But other than that and the dull throb in my head, everything feels the same as usual. I’d love a cigarette. I don’t know where my bag is. I need my phone. I need to phone Ed – he’ll be worried – and tell him not to worry. Tell him that everything is the same as usual.
    Nothing has changed.
    Even Thomas, when he returns, seems to have gone back to his usual self. He couldn’t find the doctor but he has somehow discovered that one of the nurses keeps hens in her back garden and they’ve been discussing feeds and eggs and coops and what have you.
    It’s only when Thomas is leaving – I have to stay another night for ‘observation’– that he goes all funny again. He says, ‘I want you to think about what I’ve said.’
    I say, ‘Can you put the telly on before you