Page 15 of Malaise
FIVE
Six hours ina hospital will do wonders when it comes to sobering up—literally and emotionally. By the time we emerge from the ER with my burn bandaged and a paper bag of painkillers clutched in the crook of my good arm, I’m sober as a nun, but with a tongue that could sand wood smooth.
“How you doing, trooper?” Carver smiles down at me as we walk through the dim car park towards the Falcon. Tanya swaggers ahead of us on heels that are ridiculously high for how aggressively she drove earlier. Probably took a bit of practice.
“Felt better.”
“The codeine should kick in soon and you’ll be able to get to sleep at least, rest it off.”
“I didn’t mean my arm,” I say with a shake of my head. We stop while Tanya unlocks the car. “I walked out on my parents when they broke the news, and now I’ve been gone all night.”
“You could have called them if you thought they’d be worried.”
Thanks for that nugget of truth. I could have—he’s right—but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to try and explain this all over the phone; why I need to be as far from them as possible while I come to terms with Den’s death. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. I’ll be home soon.”
“You want company while you talk to them?”
I glance up at him from my position half in the car, hand on the door. “No offence or nothing, but I think you turning up after I’ve been off the radar all night might be a bit too much.”
He takes the insult in good heart and nods as we get ourselves comfortable in the back. I find something to hold on to, my lesson about Tanya’s driving well and truly learnt from the ride here. Apparently cars didn’t need to have seat belts installed pre-80s. Fun.
As it turns out, my fears are unjustified and her erratic rally style must be reserved for emergencies only. We pull up alongside the kerb, my parents’ house looming over the idling car. I glance out at the drawn curtains, tempted to ask my ride to just carry on, to get me as far away from the reality of it all as possible.
“Come on,” Carver urges. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Tanya picks her phone up from the centre console and busies herself, effectively giving us as much privacy as she can muster while being cooped up in the same car. I glance over at the social outcast beside me who’s done nothing but be kind and helpful to a complete stranger all night long, and falter. What can I say to him? Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.
He opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk, appearing much more menacing now that he wears only his leather jacket over his bare chest; the T-shirt is a damp ball in the foot well of the car. I get out behind Carver and draw a deep breath, the sweet scent of the roses next door only serving to sadden me more. I never thought a flower could hold so much of my heart, but the memories that are attached to that smell are bittersweet now that I’ve lost both people I associate with them: Mr Clavers, and now Den.
“You got a key to get in, or do you need to wake them up?” Carver studies the house, a frown on his face as he jams both hands in his jeans’ pockets.
“I’ve got a key.”
The uneven scrape of the car window as Tanya winds it down by hand has me turning back to the Falcon. She jerks her head to indicate I should step closer. I bend at the waist to come eye level with her and see inside the low vehicle.
“You’re good people, Meg.” She reaches a hand through the window and takes one of mine. “If you need anything, you let us know. Shit’s going to get hard, real hard, and you’ll have those days when you want to flip a middle finger to the world. And that’s okay. Just don’t make yourself do it alone.” She tips her chin toward Carver. “Get that big lug to give you his number so you can message us when you need anything.” She dips her chin and raises both eyebrows. “And I mean anything, okay?”
I nod, warmed and equally as uneasy at her act of sheer kindness. “Sure.” I’ve only known these two for a few hours, but already they’ve given me more comfort than my parents could manage combined.
“Brett!” Carver walks over at the sound of his name.
Brett. Carver suit him better.
“Give the girl your number so she can call us if she needs anything.”
He holds out a hand for my phone. Déjà vu hits me square in the face, only this time I feel somewhat more comfortable with the dance than I did with Jasper. I pass my phone over and watch the tall, dark mystery as he enters his digits.
Tanya taps me on the hip to grab my attention. “Give us a call next weekend, yeah? There’s a tattoo convention on in town I was going to check out, and some company other than the regulars would be cool.”
I take my phone back and offer a shrug. “It sounds like fun, but I can’t promise how I’ll be feeling.” I swallow down the lump wedged in my throat. “Plus, I’m not sure when Den’s funeral is yet.”
“Shit, yeah. Of course.”
Carver’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Come on. I saw the curtains shift so I think the jig is up.” Doesn’t matter that I know his real name now, he’s always going to be Carver to me.
Tanya winds her window up as I walk up the path with her brother by my side. The two of them are chalk and cheese, and if I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have picked them as related. He’s tall and built, yet she’s short and petite. He’s all sharp angles and harsh lines, whereas Tanya’s all perfect skin and curves in the right places.
I feel around in the front pocket of my bag for the key while Carver stands off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. His face is drawn after a long night at the hospital, his eyes a little bloodshot. His once spiked Mohawk sits haphazardly, half in his eyes as he pushes out his bottom lip to blow it out of the way. God only knows what I look like after a full night of unplanned shenanigans.