Page 92 of One Night With You

Candice pulls me in for a hug again, and we stay that way for a while. I hate that it’s taken this for me to see her, but I sink into her arms willingly. Maybe now we can talk. Maybe now we can put our stupid fight behind us. Nothing is worth not speaking over. I can tell she feels sorry, too.

‘I’ve been an arse,’ she says, eventually, pulling away and looking for a tissue in her pocket. She blows her nose. ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve been awful to you.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ I wave a hand to make my point, but she shakes her head.

‘We’ll talk, okay? Not now. But we will.’

‘I’d like that,’ I say.

I take an immediate leave of absence from the course – Harry is going to assist our class and take over my workload, because he is amazing and kind and wonderful. I stay in Jackson’s room at Maple Avenue, and together the three of us – me, Candice and Nic – hold our breath and say our prayers. We go to the hospital every day, take meals for his parents who are beside themselves with worry, and we sneak in, occasionally, depending which nurse is working, to say hello and tell him we love him, knowing that he must be able to hear us in some way, even though he can’t respond. The swelling is going down, but it’s still too early to wake him.

Meanwhile, Nic and I hold hands. We hug. We snuggle. We do not kiss, and we do not sleep together, but for seven days we operate in each other’s orbit constantly. We are not back together, but in this time he stays over, curled around me in Jackson’s bed. We do not talk about it, it just happens, two question marks wrapped around the other, no answers necessary. Not right now. Whoever wakes first gets up to make the coffee. Life feels precious, and we all treat each other like we’re bruised and heartsore, measuring our words and trying to be thoughtful, and even Jacques and Meg – the other two housemates who moved in, Jacques taking my old room and Meg, from Argentina, taking the box room – keep vigil, quietly entering and leaving the house, leaving us space for our worry. If Candice really is sleeping with the French guy, I don’t get wind of it.

Six days after the accident they reduce Jackson’s medication to wake him up. Candice, Nic and I sit impatiently, looking up every time somebody new enters the waiting room in case it’s one of his parents come to tell us some news. Finally, his dad comes through.

‘He’s okay,’ he says. ‘He has full cognitive function, and hejust asked for some water. The doctors say no visitors today, but we told him you’re all here and he smiled and put his hand over his heart.’

That night in bed, I roll over from my position as little spoon so that I’m facing Nic. His face is barely visible, but I can feel his strong profile, the shape of his nose and mouth and chin.

‘Thank you for being here,’ I say quietly, when I know he is awake.

‘Thank you for letting me,’ he tells me, and we fall asleep facing each other for the first time.

It’s almost like old times when Candice and I hang out at Jackson’s bedside. Normally Nic comes with us, but tonight he has to work later than usual and so it’s just the three of us. Jackson will come home tomorrow, all being well, and he seems more jubilant than he has all week at the prospect.

‘I’ll have both casts for six weeks, but I’ve got a widescreen TV in my bedroom at Mum and Dad’s. It’s right by the bathroom, and work have told me to take as long as I need, which is quite right too – the pay certainly isn’t a perk there, so sick leave better bloody be.’

‘I wish I could stay longer,’ I say. ‘I can come down some weekends, but—’

Jackson holds up his cast. ‘You’ve got a documentary to be finishing,’ he says. ‘There are plenty of waifs and strays back home who will keep me company, and Candice can visit, can’t you?’ She nods. ‘My good hand is cramping already from all the texts and voice notes I’ve had this week. I’ve got a whole dodgeball team who miss me already, don’t forget.’

‘And I’ll be here,’ chimes Candice.

‘She says, threateningly,’ Jackson teases, and Candice narrows her eyes at him.

‘Anyway, I’m glad all it took was my near-death experience to get you two back talking again,’ Jackson notes. ‘And …’ he adds, nodding towards Candice, ‘I’m glad you’re finally out of the deep dark hole you decided to hide yourself in.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Candice shrugs. ‘I needed to feel sorry for myself for a moment. And now I’m ready to deal with things head on.’

‘I know all about that,’ I say. ‘Burying my head in the sand is my superpower.’

Jackson and Candice look at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean … you both think I’m talking about Nic, don’t you? I just meant in general.’ They both continue to stare. ‘I’m not sleeping with him,’ I press. ‘I know you’re looking at me like that because you think we’re hooking up, but we’re not.’

‘I hear you’ve both been sleeping in my bed,’ says Jackson. ‘So I’d prefer it if that was indeed the case. Do feel free to buy me new sheets if not, though. In fact, you can buy me new sheets either way. I’ll accept them as a housewarming gift.’

‘Housewarming gift?’ I ask.

Candice nods. ‘We’re giving up the house,’ she says. ‘Meg is going to take on the lease and find two more housemates. We’ve talked, and decided it’s time to grow up and move on.’

‘But that will make it the end of an era!’ I exclaim. ‘You can’t leave!’

‘It’s already been the end of an era,’ Jackson points out. ‘We’re the ones playing catch-up.’

‘But that means …’ I say, and Jackson nods.

‘Honey, you were never coming back. It’s okay.’

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