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Thirty-One

Wednesday 5pm

Orianna hugged Charlie close, stroking his hair like Tom would have done.

“Let’s see what I can do,” she said.

“It hardly matters now,” Charlie sobbed. “They surely won’t stop me seeing him now.”

Orianna pulled back and looked Charlie in the face, taking in the bruises and his tear-stained cheeks. “Charlie, what’s happened? Why are you so upset? Tom is the same, and unfortunately, so are his horrible parents.”

“He died, Ori. Tom’s dead. It was on the news.”

Orianna stared at him, then using a strength he wasn’t aware she possessed, turned him round physically to face the TV on the wall.

At that moment a face appeared on the TV screen. “Bookstore Shooting Victim Named as English Literature Professor Curtis Washington.”

The relief knocked the legs from under him. He collapsed into his chair as the TV picture changed to a woman standing next to a police officer. There was no sound — the space was too noisy — but the scrolling text asked for privacy for Professor Washington’s family at this difficult time. The police officer led the woman away from the cameras. Charlie knew how she felt, and it tore open the last of his defences.

The scene shifted to the outside of the bookshop. Floral tributes lay underneath the police tape. The front window had been boarded up. Tears flowed down his face, and he couldn’t find the energy to care who saw. He cried for the bereaved woman, and for her family. He cried for Tom, who didn’t deserve this, and maybe even for Kaylan who had been murdered in cold blood. And he cried for himself for the first time. He let himself feel the fear of losing Tom, and made no attempt to hide from his terror. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

Charlie didn’t bother trying to talk to Tom’s parents, or waiting to see if Orianna was following. He went to the nurses' station and simply demanded access to Tom.

“I have waited,” he said. “I’m done waiting. I saved his life and I love him and when he comes round, I’m going to ask him to marry me. I don’t care if you take me in there in handcuffs, between two security guards, but I am going to see him.”

The charge nurse mumbled something about family only.

Charlie leaned over the desk. “I thought we’d done with this shit over AIDS. Who has his medical insurance card? His parents, who he hasn’t seen for years, or the man he lives with? Who is his emergency contact? Who lives at the same address? Define family. ”

A middle-aged woman in scrubs took Charlie’s arm. “I’ll take him,” she said, and pulled Charlie back toward the exit to the ward and to Tom’s room. “You need to talk to him, honey. He’s losing the fight, and no amount of his mother’s bullying is going to bring him back. She’s got everyone on the ward shaking in their shoes, but that’s not what your man needs.”

Verity Pennant started arguing before Charlie was even through the door. He ignored her. Tom’s eyes were closed. They seemed to have sunk back into his head, dark shadows covering his cheeks like the bruises covered Charlie’s face.

“Tom,” Charlie said quietly in Welsh. “Tomos Dylan. Do not even think about fucking dying. I need you to wake up, lovey. There’s something I want to ask you.”

Charlie thought Tom’s eyelids might have fluttered but he couldn’t be sure. Verity’s bad temper was filling the room. Charlie asked, “Please could you leave us alone?”

The same nurse who had brought Charlie in, put her hand on Verity’s arm. She shook it off angrily. But she went to the door.

“Five minutes,” she said. “Five minutes and then you’re out.”

“Just fuck off,” Charlie whispered.

This time when Tom’s eyelids fluttered, Charlie was sure. He talked. He told Tom how much he loved him, how much his daughters needed him. “And even that bloody art school needs you, Tom. And I want to ask you to marry me, but I can’t unless you wake up.”

“Yes,” said a croaky voice from the bed.

“Jesus, Tom, I thought you were dead. You bastard, I thought you were dead.” Charlie’s body shook uncontrollably, and tears of relief spurted unchecked from his eyes.

“Not dead,” Tom said. It sounded like speaking was an effort. His eyes stayed closed.

Charlie grabbed the hand without the drip and squeezed.

“Please wake up, Tom.”

“Don’t go. Don’t die, Charlie. You ran at the gunman. I saw. Don’t die, Charlie.” Charlie squeezed Tom’s hand even harder and felt the same squeeze around his heart.

Orianna burst into the room.

“He’s awake. Sort of.” Charlie said. “You’d better get a nurse.”

Tom’s breathing appeared to slow down and Charlie was trying to control his panic when the door opened again and one of the more pleasant doctors came in, closely followed by Tom’s parents.

“He woke up,” Charlie said, “but …”

The doctor looked at Tom, and at all the machines, bleeping in the background.

“He’s asleep,” he said. “Normal sleep. Not in a coma any more. But he’s got a lot of recovery to do, and he’ll need rest. I think it’s time you all left."

“No,” Charlie said. “I’m staying.”

The doctor shrugged. Charlie saw his name was Dr Graeme Cheetah, which seemed somehow familiar. Verity opened her mouth to begin speaking, and the doctor said, “Best leave it for now. Your son needs quiet.”

“I should be with him,” Verity hissed. “Not this … person.”

Charlie turned round. “ This person is Tom’s fiancé. I asked him to marry me and he said yes. Which I think gives me the right to stay, don’t you?”

“Let’s leave them to it,” Orianna said and took Verity’s elbow to lead her out of the room. The doctor plucked the medical chart from its holder on the end of the bed, and stood with it, pen in hand, looking expectantly at Orianna and the Pennants. They left, Verity still protesting.

Dr Cheetah made a few notes on the chart.

“Is that true?” he asked Charlie. “Tom woke up for long enough to accept your proposal?”

Charlie nodded. Because that was what that “yes” had meant, he was sure of it.

“Fine. But you need to know that the police are looking for you. I don’t know what you’ve done, but I think you should probably leave too, unless you want to get married in handcuffs.”