Page 23 of Broken Heart Syndrome
‘Fine,’ I clipped, back to being cross, and my eyes met his. Bizarrely this made him smile. It was official: he was insane.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you, Frankie,’ he said softly, his face now serious.
‘It’s okay,’ I said quickly, wishing I could rewind time and retract that stupid comment. ‘I know you don’t do it deliberately. Don’t worry about it; lots of people are dismissive of people like me. It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it, honestly.’
His brows drew together, ‘People like you? What do you mean?’
Oh God. I really, really didn’t want to get into this with Tom. I had already revealed too much.
‘Look,’ I said nervously to his shoulder, distractedly noticing that his shirt needed a good iron. ‘They must be wondering where we are now, lets go back.’
‘I don’t give a – what was it you said again? Ah yes – a flying foo foo,’ he declared. ‘Mary and Ash will sort it out. I want to know what you mean by “people like me”. ’
‘No, no, no,’ I said in a panic. ‘I am not talking to you about this. No way. It’s not important.’ He stepped more into my space and his hand came up to my cheek, tipping my face to look up at his.
‘I think we need to talk about this, Frankie. I think it’s crucial we talk about it,’ he declared firmly. Then, more softly, ‘I think I might have been mistaken in a big way about you.’ I tried to step away but he moved with me.
‘Let me go,’ I whispered.
‘Okay,’ he whispered back, ‘for now,’ he clarified. I stepped back quickly and started walking back into the ward. ‘One more thing, Frankie,’ he said, catching my arm to pull me to a halt. ‘I want you to call me Tom, okay?’
‘But you said –’
‘I don’t care what I said. I was being a … how does Lou put it? A gankface?’
I blinked, then tilted my head to the side. I didn’t say anything because there really wasn’t much I could add. He had been a gankface, but I had no idea when Lou had said thattohis face.
‘Okay, Frankie?’
‘Oh … kay,’ I said slowly.
‘Okay what?’ he moved into my space again. I had fallen into a Tom-induced stupor and had lost the power of speech. I felt that familiar itch in my hand again to touch his hair.
‘Frankie?’
‘Okay … T-Tom,’ I managed to get out. And he smiled.
Chapter 10
Me Tarzan, you Jane
Great.
Another excursion to the stupid, smelly, boring cath lab.
‘Frankie, why the hell are your feet bare?’ Tom snapped, looking down at the floor. Irrationally I was insanely glad that Lou had painted my toes the night before.
‘I … um … well.’
‘Jesus, put your clogs back on. God knows what could drop on them,’ he clipped. I didn’t know why it was such a big deal, or why the muscle in his jaw was ticking as he stared at my feet. He seemed to have to tear his gaze away from them, and was in a foul mood for the rest of the procedure.
Unfortunately it was a particularly long angiogram, with multiple stents inserted, and Tom had kept up a steady stream of questions. We were just finishing when I felt that familiar nausea sweeping through me, and my skin getting clammy.
‘Which one, Frankie?’ Tom asked impatiently.
‘W ... w … what?’ I stuttered. Dark was closing in on my peripheral vision.
‘Which technique should you use for the bifurcation lesion: kissing balloon or shotgun?’
