Chapter 28

I was in the study when I heard the front door open and the sounds of people entering with luggage. I was struggling with Euclidian vectors, so chose to ignore it.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock on the door and I stood up, walked across the room and opened it. Cal’s mother was standing there.

“Aunt Mary, welcome,” I said and opened my arms for a hug.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she replied, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Mum reminded me that it was our turn to do Christmas,” I explained, “I couldn’t see any reason not to.”

“But, you and Cal,” she said, hesitantly.

“Cal and I have been friends since we were little. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for, well just about a year all told. It didn’t work out, that doesn’t make us enemies. At least not in my mind,” I explained.

“She’ll be glad to know that,” she replied, “she really does think that you hate her.”

“No,” I answered, “come on, let’s go and sort that out.”

I led the way back to the living room, where everybody was seated around the fireplace, which now had the beginnings of a roaring log fire going in it.

Cal and Sandy were seated side by side on one sofa talking animatedly to each other.

They looked up as we entered and Sandy gave me a smile and a brief nod.

“Hello Cal,” I said, “it’s lovely to see you again. You’re looking well.”

She looked up at me and I saw a tear trickling down from her right eye.

Sandy broke the silence.

“You two need to talk, why don’t you go into the study and do that?” she said, “Dinner will be another half-hour.”

I looked at her and she smiled.

“Cal?” I said, shifting my gaze to her, “Would you like to do that.”

She nodded her assent and I held out my hand to her. She stood up, unaided and followed me out of the room.

I led her into the study, sat her down and closed the door then took a seat next to her on the sofa.

“How are you doing Cal, really?” I asked.

“Honestly?” she asked, a pleading in her eyes.

“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand,” I told her, “but I think we need to at least clear the air, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry, David,” she said, “for what I did. I really messed things up.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Cal,” I said, “you did.”

“What I did was unforgivable,” she said.

“No, it’s not,” I said.

Her head came up quickly.

“It’s not!” she exclaimed.

“No,” I replied, “how can it be unforgivable when I’ve already forgiven you.”

“You’ve forgiven me?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, of course, I was hurt and angry at what you’d done, especially as it was the second time, but once the anger was gone, I forgave you,” I said, “but Cal, I’ve forgiven, but I can’t forget.”

She let out a deep sigh.

“So there’s no hope for me,” she said.

“Of course there’s hope,” I said, “you’re a young, very talented singer. I’m sure you’ll be a success, and I’m sure that out there, there’s the right man for you. But I don’t think that’s me. Cal, I’ll be your friend, but that’s all I can be. Regardless of how much I love you. I won’t take the risk of being hurt like that again.”

She went very quiet for a minute.

“I truly am sorry, David,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry for all the hurt that I’ve caused you and your family. I promise you I’ll never trouble you again. And I hope that you can find the happiness you deserve with Sandy.”

She ran out of the room and upstairs to the bedroom that she was sharing with her mother.

I walked back into the living room and everybody’s eyes were on me.

“Where’s Cal?” Alison asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“She ran off upstairs to her room,” I answered, “I don’t think our chat went the way that she wanted it to.”

“I’ll go and check that she’s all right,” Alison said and headed off upstairs.

We all heard Alison try the door, then call out to her. Then we heard Alison knocking and calling, “Cal, please, open the door.”

There were a few moments of silence and then Alison shouted out, “Mum, Aunt Mary, come quick, something’s wrong.”

Dad and I set off up the stairs, followed by everybody else. At the top we found Alison banging on the end door pleading with Cal to open the door. I gently moved my sister from in front of the door and tapped on it.

“Cal, it’s David, please open the door and let me in.”

There was no response.

“Give me some room please,” I asked and reached into my pocket and took out a five-cent coin.

Once I had it in my hand and space around the door, I inserted the coin into the slot below the door handle and twisted, releasing the lock. The lock clicked and I turned the handle, opening the door.

I stood back and let her mother in first, following her.

Cal was lying in the middle of the bed, in a foetal position, entirely still.

“Dad,” I shouted, “I need you in here, now.”

As far as I knew he was the only certified first aider in the building, and Cal appeared to be unconscious.

He ran in and immediately took in the scene.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “other than after we talked in the study, she ran up here and locked the door.”

He checked for a pulse.

“Well, she’s alive,” he said, “can someone call for an ambulance? And, David, just in case, can you check for any empty pill packets.”

I looked around while Mum called for an ambulance, having to try a second time since she discovered that 999 doesn’t work in Canada.

The ambulance arrived in just over ten minutes and the two crew members shooed everyone but Dad and aunt Mary out of the room. The rest of us spent an anxious thirty minutes in the living room wondering what was going on while they did their work.

When Dad came down, he said that as far as they could tell she hadn’t taken anything and that they thought that she was in a catatonic state and that they were going to take her to the hospital for observation. He added that the technicians didn’t think there was anything serious, but just a reaction to something that had happened and that the hospital would be able to do a better diagnosis.

Aunt Mary came downstairs shortly after with one of the technicians, who went out to the ambulance and brought back a wheelchair that looked like it had been designed to go up and downstairs. A few minutes later they brought Cal’s inert form downstairs in it and loaded her into the ambulance.

“I have to go to the hospital with her,” Mary said.

“I’ll come too,” I offered.

“Sorry, son,” one of the technicians said, “but we’re only allowed one passenger in the ambulance. You’ll have to make your own way there.”

“I’ll take you,” Maria said.

“I’m coming too,” Mum joined in, followed by Alison, Dad and Sandy.

“Looks like we’re all going,” Mum said, as I headed for the hall cupboard and my coat.

We followed the ambulance to the hospital, I was a little less agitated when they didn’t use either their blue lights or their klaxon on the journey, and once they parked by the ER entrance, we found a space, parked and Dad collected the ticket from the machine by the entrance and pocketed it ready to pay when we left...

We arrived at the ER waiting room just in time to see Cal being wheeled into a cubicle, followed by her mother.

The next hour was an anxious time. The only more anxious time that I could remember also involved Cal being carted off to hospital.

At the end of that hour, Cal’s mother came out of the cubicle, looking very strained.

“Well?” Mum asked, gently, “have they worked out what’s wrong?”

“They think it’s something they’re calling a brief psychotic disorder, probably related to stress,” she said, “they think it will play itself out in something between a day and a month.

“A month,” I said, “but she’ll miss school. Of course, you’re welcome to stay until she’s over it.”

“David, it’s up to a month, they just don’t know how long it will last. At the moment what she’s exhibiting is catatonia. It’s as if her brain can’t cope and it’s just shut her down. They’re going to keep her overnight for observation. I’m going to stay too.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I offered.

“No, David, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Mary said, “it could be that you’re one of the stresses that caused this. It’s better that just I stay. Besides, you have Sandy to take care of.”

“She’s right,” Mum agreed, surprising me, “there’s nothing you can do here, and Sandy is your priority now.”

Then she dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Son” she whispered, “you can’t be everything to everybody. You also can’t spend your life dithering. You know how Mary and I feel, but you have to do things for you. You can’t string Sandy along and then just drop her and go back to Cal, and Cal has to know that she can’t breeze back in and carry on as if what she did didn’t happen. I know you love them both, but it’s time to make a decision, and stick with it.”

I looked over at Sandy and our eyes met. She smiled and nodded to me. I stood up and walked the few steps to where she was sat beside her mother.

Maria moved over to let me sit next to her daughter and as I did, she took my hand in hers.

“David,” she began.

“Sandy I,” I interrupted her.

“No David, let me speak, please,” she interrupted back, “I understand, David. You’ve been friends, or maybe childhood sweethearts since you were five. I know the story of the aftermath of her first trip to Germany, and what you did when she was in trouble. She’s your friend and she’s in trouble. And it’s in your nature to want to do whatever you can for a friend in trouble. Just like you did for me when I was a friend in trouble. I don’t doubt that you truly love me, and I truly love you. Now you do what you have to to help your friend, and do it with my blessing.”

“It’s all right, you know,” I said, softly, “all I can be to her now is a friend.”

“Whatever you need to do,” she said, “I’ll still be here.”

I gave her a soft kiss on the lips, which escalated into something much deeper. Until Maria dug me in the ribs to remind me where we were.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be,” Maria replied, “just be a little more discreet.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Sandy said.

“Yes,” I agreed, “sorry Mother.”

Maria gave me a look, then a big smile suffused her face.

Dad came over and told us that since all anyone could do was wait, we’d all be more comfortable waiting at home, Maria agreed, but I insisted that I would stay and wait at the hospital, Sandy declared that she would wait with me. Maria and my family left, leaving Sandy and me alone in the waiting room after Mary went back to the cubicle. We settled into the two most comfortable chairs in the room prepared for a long night.