Page 47 of Anxious Hearts

Chapter Thirty-nine

Toula screwed up her nose. ‘When was the last time you left this apartment?’

‘Nice to see you too, Touls,’ Kelly said.

‘Seriously, can we get a window open or something? It smells like a football team’s boots came here to die.’

‘It’s freezing outside.’

‘Turn the heating on.’

‘With the windows open?’

‘Yep.’

‘No wonder you don’t vote Greens.’

‘I don’t vote Greens because they’re a bunch of city-dwelling morons with no idea what it means to co-exist with the environment. Last time I was at a polling booth, I took the how to vote card from the unwashed volunteer, tore it up in her face and told her to recycle that.’

‘How you haven’t ended up in prison is beyond me. Surely, compulsory therapy at the least.’

‘Strength of conviction, Kel. That’s what gets me through life. I take no notice of all the bullshit you and your lefty mates serve up.’

‘I’m apolitical.’

‘Nobody’s apolitical. If you’re not against the mob, you’re with the mob.’

Kelly shook her head. ‘I genuinely don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore.’

Toula looked sympathetic. She touched her finger to the side of her nose. ‘That’s because you’re part of the mob, darling. They’ve got you and you don’t even know it.’

‘Right, well, given my deep political failings, I’m honoured that you’d still help me out.’

Toula shrugged. ‘Friends for life,’ she said, as though that explained everything.

Kelly smiled. ‘Friends for life.’

Toula hugged Kelly tight, her enormous bosom giving a kind of primal comfort. She rubbed Kelly’s back, lingering for a moment on each rib. ‘You’re too skinny.’

‘I’m too stressed.’

‘Lucky I brought food.’

Kelly was pleased. She hadn’t eaten more than a Vegemite sandwich in the past twenty-four hours. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, and I also knitted you a quilt, painted my nails and squeezed into my spandex for you.’

Kelly laughed.

Toula disengaged from the hug. ‘I’ve got a baby, for fuck’s sake. No, I didn’t bring food. You’re lucky I’m here in clean underwear.’

Kelly looked into the pram, which Toula had parked beside the wall when she entered Kelly’s apartment.

Jackson was sleeping soundly in what looked like a cross between overalls and a sleeping bag.

His face shifted from grimace to smile to plea all in the space of a few seconds.

He had a little breastfeeding blister on his lip that he sucked intermittently, smacking his lips like an old man satisfied with the four o’clock roast from the local RSL.

He was mesmerising, no question about it. But this was not for her. Not now. Not when she was so close. She knew Toula was standing right behind her, also looking at Jackson. She could almost feel the heat of her proud smile on her shoulder.

‘Thanks for bringing him over,’ Kelly whispered without taking her eyes off the baby. ‘My opportunities to examine real patients have been sub-optimal since the whole getting booted from the hospital thing. There’s only so many times I can review notes and recreate patient exams in my head.’

‘No problem,’ Toula said. ‘Nobody invites me over for my company anymore, it’s always about seeing my son. I’m just the mobile breast-milk machine that has to compulsorily attend the visit.’

Kelly turned back to her friend. ‘No pumping today?’

‘The bloody thing broke.’ She cupped her hands under her breasts. ‘Not made for power users, I guess.’

‘Well, I value you for much more than just your boobs.’

‘Ha! Next you’ll be telling me you really like my personality.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

They both laughed. Subdued, so they wouldn’t wake Jackson, but genuine, nonetheless. A little of the weight on Kelly’s soul broke off. Toula was good for her.

They settled in to chat and drink tea while they waited for Jackson to wake. Kelly talked about what happened with Finn two days ago, her story punctuated by increasingly incredulous What the fuck? interjections from Toula.

‘I’ve never seen him like that,’ Kelly said. ‘Not just the drugs. It was like part of him was there and part of him was lost, you know? Like looking at an artist’s bad rendition of him or something.’

‘How can we help him?’

Kelly’s heart filled with warmth. Toula was loyal to Kelly first, but Finn was still her old friend, too. Of course she would want to help him.

‘I don’t know. And until I get through this exam, I just don’t have the capacity to think about it.’

‘Five more days,’ Toula said. ‘You think he’ll be all right for five more days?’

Kelly thought about what Finn was doing to himself.

He was obviously using cocaine heavily, probably multiple times a day, given that she’d found him snorting in her apartment.

They’d been apart barely six and a half weeks, a shockingly short amount of time to go from zero drug use to outright dependence.

But, from a clinical perspective, it made sense: Finn’s profile was perfectly suited to addiction.

She knew that as soon as he’d experienced the rush and the melting away of all those problems and anxieties he’d built up in his mind, the feeling of euphoria would be almost irresistible.

Especially on the way down. It was a miracle he hadn’t tried cocaine before now.

But, then, she’d always been there for him. It was only when she’d turned him away that Finn’s life had spiralled out of control. Kelly suppressed the feeling of guilt. Finn made his own choices. He was a grown man. She wasn’t his mother.

Ashley must have had something do with it.

No matter what Kelly told herself, though, the gnawing in her gut persisted. She considered Toula’s question. Would Finn be all right for the next five days? Yes. It was cocaine, not heroin.

‘Fuck, Touls, I don’t know. He should be okay, but he was snorting in my apartment. I’m worried he might go too far.’

‘OD?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘But not impossible?’

‘Nothing’s impossible.’

They sat quietly.

‘I’ll check on him,’ Toula said eventually. ‘Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid before your exam.’

‘I can’t put that on you. You’ve got Jackson to look after.’

Toula chuckled. ‘You ever known anyone to put anything on me, Kel?’

‘Fair point.’ Kelly held her friend’s hand. ‘Thanks, Touls.’

Toula squeezed Kelly’s hand and smiled. She looked at her pram again, this time with narrowed eyes.

‘I didn’t hear anything,’ Kelly said.

‘You’re about to.’

A second later, Jackson gave out a tiny sigh, then a gurgle and a lazy cry. Not distressed, just enough to let his mum know he was awake.

Kelly shook her head in wonder. ‘He didn’t make a sound. How did you know?’

‘Mother’s instinct.’

‘Wonders never cease.’

After Toula had fed and changed Jackson, she lay him on Kelly’s bed in just his nappy. He’d been burped and was now chatting happily away to himself, his voice so fragile, it was like an ultra-thin pane of glass. Beautiful. Ethereal. Breakable.

Kelly tapped him gently on his nose, which he screwed up like a rabbit in a cartoon. ‘Thank you for volunteering to help me with my clinical exam,’ she said.

Toula was watching from the other side of the bed. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to the patients.’

‘I’m not. But this one is just too cute.’

‘Can’t argue with that.’

Kelly did stop talking then. She ran through her mental checklist, working her way along Jackson’s little body.

His chubby arms, round belly, even chubbier thighs.

His vital organs barely protected by ribs so small Kelly could surround them in her open grip.

There was a comical moment when she opened his nappy to check his hip joints and he stared at her as though she’d crossed a major line, an indignant protruding bottom lip that was only tucked away when the nappy was securely fastened.

‘He’ll grow out of that,’ Toula said.

‘Sshh, I’m trying to concentrate.’

When she finished, she tapped Jackson on the nose again and was rewarded with a smile. ‘You’ve been an excellent patient. Thank you, sir.’

He looked up at her with trusting eyes, but Kelly knew it would be a different story if Toula left the room.

Throughout the examination, he had periodically turned his head to check that his mother was still there; her presence the only reassurance he needed that he was safe.

That the world was in order and he was out of harm’s way. She thought of Finn.

‘They never really change, do they?’ she whispered to herself.

‘What?’ Toula said.

But Kelly didn’t answer. Her phone had started to ring.

Evan Banbury was calling.

***

Toula fed Jackson again while Kelly took the call.

The insatiable baby sucked noisily, occasionally pausing to stare at Kelly to warn her away from his mother’s nipple.

He didn’t trust her that much. Toula watched Kelly with a dreamy expression, occasionally glancing down at her son and then looking back up at her friend with whirlpools of contentment swirling in her eyes.

Kelly sat on the edge of the couch, literally, seeing her friend and her son but constructing images in her mind of the words the journalist was speaking.

He’d started with ‘It’s not good news’ and the conversation had gone downhill from there.

He’d picked up a scrap of information while doing a weekend shift at the paper.

Something about a soap star and Dr Omelette in another public confrontation.

‘From what I heard, this arsehole was filming the whole thing.’

‘But I deleted the video, and then knocked the other woman’s phone out of her hand.’

Evan sighed. ‘How many people were in the cafe?’

Kelly cast her mind back. ‘I don’t know. Maybe twenty.’

‘And you took out two phones. That leaves eighteen blood-thirsty hyenas.’

‘Fuck,’ Kelly said.

‘Yeah, that’s about right.’

‘But what are they waiting for? It happened two days ago.’

‘Apparently the bastard is trying to drive the price up. Threatening to sell it to the highest bidder.’

‘Is there anything you can do, Evan?’

‘I can try, kid, but it’s not my desk. I was really just calling to give you a heads up.’

Kelly dropped her head. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

‘When’s the exam?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Good luck, Kelly. For all of it.’ Evan hung up.

Kelly stared at the ground. From the corner of her eye, she saw Toula with Jackson slung over her shoulder, gently patting his back. He burped with astonishing conviction for a seven-month-old and Toula switched him to her other breast, groaning as he began to suck, then sighing with relief.

‘Fuck my life,’ Kelly said.

***

Evan called again the next day, Monday morning. A deal had been struck.

The story was being written up and would probably go live this week.

There was nothing he could do.