Right Now, I'm Anyone's

Waiting was probably one of the hardest things you could ask me to do – especially in that hospital and on that main road. The reception area in Leeds hospital was making me feel nauseas; the smell, the relentless whiteness and the way they had screwed bright orange chairs into the floor to make the waiting room look like a happy place. It looked far too clean, too sanitary and hygienic for a place where people died every day. That was my biggest fear at the moment; that he’d die. The ambulance had arrived about ten minutes after I had called it, and through my panic it looked like he’d stopped breathing by then, which only made everything about a hundred times worse. A paramedic took me to one side – away from where the others were resuscitating Dean –to find out the details from me.

“Did you happen to get the registration number on the car?” the policeman that had accompanied the paramedic to me asked. I had shook my head and he raised his eyebrows before patting my arm and walking back to his car. The young, male paramedic that had approached me first had handed me a polystyrene cup full of cold water before he started questioning me – I remember that I just couldn’t stop shaking.

“Who are you to the victim, miss?” he asked.

“I-I’m his friend,” was my shaky response.

“And you have a way to contact a member of his immediate family, Miss...I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Leila Cole,” I answered quickly, nodding my head to his first question. “Yes, I do. I have his younger brother’s phone number.”

“How much younger?”

“Only a year.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you to call Mr. Owens’ brother on our way to the hospital – I trust you want to accompany Mr. Owens?” he asked, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I nodded my head. “At the moment, it’s critical that we get him to the hospital and into surgery – he has sustained very serious injuries.”

“What? S-Surgery?” I asked. My question went unanswered though, because the paramedic that had been speaking to me rushed away, back over to where Dean lay, crumpled on the black road. Another two paramedics rushed towards the cluster of people on the road with a gurney, while the four that had been gathered around him lifted him up onto it and quickly put him into the back of the ambulance. The paramedic that had spoken to me inclined his head towards the ambulance and I climbed in, taking a seat at the head of Dean’s gurney.

I had called Johnny, but I don’t think he understood a single word I was saying because I was crying too hysterically to speak properly. One of the paramedics took my phone out of my hand and told him the situation calmly and that he should get to the hospital as quickly as he possibly could – which would be quite quick if he was still at Flux. The entire way to the hospital, I kept my hands pressed softly against Dean’s cheeks – doing my best to avoid touching the plastic mask over his mouth – feeling shocked at how cod his skin felt against mine, but totally unable to move my hands away.

“If you could just wait in there for me, love,” the same paramedic said hurriedly. “We’re going to get him to a doctor and prep for surgery. Please don’t panic yourself anymore, ask the receptionist for some water if you need it.”

I just nodded my head and let myself drop into one of those disgusting orange plastic seats in the waiting area. I watched as they all wheeled Dean away, through a set of double doors, the doctors and nurses surrounding the gurney all running.

That’s basically how I ended up in the waiting room of a hospital, not knowing whether the man I knew I loved was going to die or not. During the time of doubt and panic, I finally admitted to myself that I loved him. I sat in the reception, hoping that my desperate admittance would let him live through the injuries. People loved him, not just me; he had to pull through for them if anything. I put my face into my hands, but I couldn’t cry anymore. It wasn’t going to help anything, anyway.

“Hello, I got a phone call saying my brother was in an accident,” I heard somebody say to the receptionist on duty. “His name’s Dean Owens.”

“Johnny?” I spoke before the receptionist had chance to, lifting my head up out of my hands. Johnny swivelled around and I stood up out of the plastic chair as he rushed over to me. His arms came around me and I hugged him just as tight as he hugged me, feeling the hardness of my bump dig into his stomach. So much for not being able to cry anymore; as soon as Johnny hugged me, I couldn’t help sobbing hysterically into his grey cardigan. I cried for a couple of reasons; one – the biggest – the fact that Dean could die at any moment and I’d never see him smile again, the second was that I had lied to Johnny and he was still able to hug me the way he did and let me cry all over him, and three was that I was scared he and Jake would hate me forever after that night.

Johnny lead us back over to the waiting area and gently pushed me back into a chair, before taking the one beside me and keeping his arm wrapped around my shoulders as they shook. His own shoulders were tensed and he was glaring at the seat opposite us; I nudged him slightly and he looked down at me.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” I said, whimpering pathetically. “This is my fault, all my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, sighing softly. “I told Dean not to go looking for you, or trouble; he was already on thin ice.”

“I meant for lying to you,” I confessed. “And Dean being where he is now is my fault too. If nothing had happened between me and him, he wouldn’t have tried to find me and he wouldn’t have been run over by a car or needing surgery.”

“Shut up, Leila,” Johnny snapped, grabbing hold of my chin as I started to look away from him. “This isn’t your fault, not entirely. Dean’s stubborn and even if you two hadn’t snuck around behind everybody’s backs, he still would’ve found some way to get hit by a fucking car.”

I kept quiet after that. Johnny didn’t talk again either and we both just sat, staring at the white clock on the wall above the receptionists desk every couple of seconds, putting ourselves more on edge about what was going on with every passing breath. I wanted to believe that he was going to make it, but the pessimist in me had come out, and it wasn’t going away. It kept telling me that I was fucking stupid for thinking he was going to make it, and that I was losing somebody that really, truly loved me and that you didn’t find that every day.

“You do love him, don’t you?” Johnny asked suddenly, making me jump out of my little trance. “I can tell you do, Leila.”

“How?” I didn’t bother denying it.

“Well,” he said, leaning back into the plastic back of the chair. “I remember what you were like when you loved him the first time, and it’s the same. I know that he loves you too; why would he act the way he has over the last few months and put up with all the shit he was getting if he didn’t?”

I didn’t respond, so Johnny continued. “I mean, I’m so pissed off at you for lying and keeping secrets from me – I thought I was supposed to be your best friend, after all – and Zara’s totally torn up too; she thought you were such a nice person”-he took a big breath-“I know you are, but she doesn’t think so right now. Jake’s really annoyed as well, and he and Dean just aren’t speaking at all and it looked like the band was going to break at any moment because of it – none of us want that to happen, but what can we do when the drummer hates the front man? Dean can’t take back cheating on his best friends cousin, and he can’t really make up for it.”

“Does Jake hate me now?” I asked timidly.

“No,” Johnny said after a moment, his voice steady. “You’re not his most favourite person in the world, but he doesn’t hate you. And don’t worry about him and Dean – they’re best friends, and I think Jake and Zara are going to get over it. Especially after tonight.”

I nodded my head; Johnny kept talking. “I just have to know one thing. Why didn’t you ever tell me about it? You know I would’ve understood – maybe I wouldn’t have accepted it – but at least I’d have understood that you love him, Leila.”

“I didn’t love him then, or at least I didn’t know it,” I said, shifting around in my awkwardly so that I could nudge his arm off of my shoulders. “But can we not do this now? We’re waiting to find out if your brother’s going to live or...not. I don’t think it’s the right time.”

Johnny sighed. “You’re right.”

And the only sound to be heard after that was the ticking of the clock and the scratch of a pen on paper.

*****

According to the clock on the wall, it had been around two hours since I had arrived at the hospital – maybe more – when I heard somebody call out, “Owens?”

My head shot up faster than should be possible as I looked at the doctor standing across the reception area from us. He noticed my movement – and the fact that we were the only people in there aside from the receptionist – and made his way over, while I carefully rearranged Johnny so that he was leaning back against the wall. God only knows how he managed to fall asleep in there; I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it.

“Yes,” I said, standing up out of the chair once I was free of Johnny’s arms so that I could talk to the doctor – Dr. S Thompson. He took a glance behind me at Johnny, fast asleep on the plastic chair, before turning his kindly, tired face onto me again and speaking.

“I understand that this is Mr. Owens’ brother?”-I nodded my head briefly-“Right, and you are the young lady that called the ambulance?”-another nod-“Well, Mr. Owens is now stable, but just for the moment. He has received serious injuries to his ribs, his left lung and both of his legs – more specifically, the impact his body made with the car broke a couple of ribs, causing one of them to puncture his left lung, while also breaking the tibia of his left leg and shattering his right kneecap. He also sustained a serious head injury that we have managed to treat properly – it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked anxiously as my panic started to return. “Has he woken up yet?”

“No, he’s still unconscious at the moment, Miss Cole,” Dr. Thompson explained, smiling wearily at me. “As I said, he is stable, but just for now. We will keep an eye on him throughout the night, and if he makes it through until morning with little or no complications, he should pull through. We cannot determine when he’ll regain consciousness – it ranges from hours to months depending on how the patient’s body reacts to the operation performed.”

I swallowed back the heavy sob that threatened to escape and fought back my tears. “Is it possible for me to go and see him?”

“Yes,” he answered, nodding his head with another smile. “He’s stable enough for you to go and sit with him for an hour or so. With accidents like these, we find that the patient hearing a familiar voice can help bring them back around, so try speaking to him.”

“Right,” I said, nodding. “I’ll just wake Johnny-”

“I think it’ll be alright,” he interrupted me, giving me another look – this time, like he knew something. “If we let him sleep for a little while longer; I’ll make sure to tell him where to go as soon as he wakes up. And please, try not to upset yourself too much, you did what you could; if you hadn’t been there, Mr. Owens would’ve died on the road.”

I nodded my head and smiled slightly, still fighting my tears. I listened carefully as Dr. Thompson told me the directions to Dean’s private room. After I had collected my bag and jacket, I started making my way down the corridor that he had pointed me to, managing to keep my emotions at bay for the time being. I wasn’t too certain about how well I could control myself once I saw him, so I thought practicing control would help.

All too soon, I was standing outside of the room that Dr. Thompson told me belonged to Dean. I kept hesitating at the door, convincing myself that if I didn’t see him as I imagined him to be, it didn’t happen – he didn’t get hit by that car because he came to tell me he loved me. That it wasn’t my fault. As I was about to push the door open, my phone vibrated violently from my jacket pocket, making me jump halfway out of my skin. I fumbled around with the button on my pocket as my hand shook, before yanking my phone out and pushing answer without looking to see who was calling.

“Leila?! Oh, thank God!” Levi said – I could hear the little edge of anger through his relief. “Where the hell are you?”

“Levi,” I said, cringing as I heard my own voice crack. “This is kind of a bad time; can I call you back later?”

“No!” he half-shouted down the phone. “Not before you tell me where you are and why you’re there without bloody telling me before you disappear!”

I sighed heavily and tried to keep calm. “I’m at the hospital – but please, don’t panic – a friend of mine got into an accident and I had to come to help.”

“Leila,” he groaned in frustration. “I was seriously scared; I thought something had happened to you!”

“I know,” I said quietly. “And I’m so, so sorry for making you worry.”

He exhaled sharply and I held my breath. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past two and a half hours – my mother’s furious because you just disappeared like that!”

“This is a little more important than what your mother thinks of me, Levi,” I said, snapping at him slightly. “Where are you now?”

“Well, she thought something was wrong with the baby, that’s why she was angry,” he retaliated. “It’s eleven at night; I’m at home, of course. Do you want me to come down there and pick you up?”

“No, thank you,” I said. “I’ll just stay here tonight with Johnny, then call you tomorrow.”

The line went completely silent for about a minute, before his voice came back, soft and careful in my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as his. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he said. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I just bit my lip for a moment. “Yeah, you too.”

I hung up the phone before he had a chance to respond, turning it off before I slipped it back into my jacket pocket. I turned around to face Dean’s door, feeling my breathing accelerate rapidly. I took a deep, calming breath as my hand came into contact with the cold metal of the handle. I pushed it down and walked slowly into the room, hearing the door click shut behind me. I felt tears well up in my eyes at the sight in front of me.

Dean was lying on his back, on a bed in the middle of a white room, with a wire stuck out of his arm and a mask over his nose and mouth to help him breathe because of the punctured lung. The bed sheet was pulled up to cover the tattoo on his bare stomach, but I could see the bulk of the cast where his leg would be and there were bandages wrapped around his chest and forehead. I forced myself to look properly at his face and saw that there was a huge graze across his right cheekbone.

I pulled the chair that was standing near the door over to his bedside, dropping my bag onto the floor beside it and collapsing into the chair, just feeling how tired I was suddenly. My hands fluttered helplessly over his body for a moment before I put them back onto my knees – I didn’t know if I was okay to touch him. His eyes were closed and both of them were bruised.

I didn’t bother blinking back my tears this time. I remembered what the doctor had told me about talking – about how hearing familiar voices may help bring him back. “Dean? The doctor told me you can hear me, so I’m just going to sit here and talk, okay?”

I tried not to choke on my breath as I recalled a lot of good memories we had together and started relaying them to his unconscious form. I chuckled to myself every now and then, in an attempt to convince myself that this was working; that I just saw an eyelid twitch, or his hand move towards me slightly. I grasped hold of his left hand, keeping my fingers loose around his as I stroked his cut knuckles with the fingertips on my free hand.

“You know what else I remember?” I asked the empty room, keeping my eyes on his face. “I remember after I left London”-I sighed-“I wore that ratty old yellow hoody for weeks and weeks afterwards, because it still smelled like you and I missed you so much that it hurt.”-I paused to close my eyes while I composed myself-“When I was away from you, all I could think about was the first time you told me you loved me, and the first time you touched me, and the first time you kissed me.”

The fingertips of my left hand started dancing all over his skin; over the mess of veins on the back of his hand, then over the bone of his wrist. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Dean. And you know, you’re right; you’re always right. If you ever wake up, I promise that I’ll tell you again, but...I-I think I do love you back. Whenever you left me, I missed you, and whenever you were around me, nothing else was important. You know exactly how to make everything okay again, and that’s why I – we – need you to wake up”-a couple of tears leaked from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks as my fingertips moved further up his left arm to his elbow-“I didn’t plan on telling you, but this changes everything. I-I’m pregnant, and I’m not sure that the baby belongs to Levi – when I think of it being his, I just can’t imagine it. I always imagine a baby with your eyes and your nose. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it if you don’t wake up.”

And then I finally let it go. I put my forehead against his forearm and shut my eyes, crying into his skin. The tears rolled onto his skin and off onto the bed sheets, leaving shiny trails across the toffee colouring. I felt the muscle on his arm tense against my face and I jolted back upward to look at his face. His eyes remained closed and his arm was totally still. I scrambled around in my head for something else to say to him, to maybe wake him up, but I got distracted by something. I glanced down at his arm again and I saw that there was something different.

Where the white bandage had been before the accident, there were words. Beautifully written, elegant script tattooed into the skin of his inner forearm, close to the crease of his elbow. I scrubbed at my eyes quickly with both hands, before carefully taking hold of his left arm and turning it over, tilting my head to the side so that I could read the words:

“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest in my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

- XVII”

Without thinking for long, I understood what that tattoo meant. If I hadn’t believed that Dean loved me before, seeing that tattoo was all I needed to believe it – but he hadn’t shown me it to make me believe. He had wanted me to believe his words first. The tattoo meant that he didn’t know why he loved me, he just did. He didn’t know how he loved me, he just did. He didn’t know when he started to love me again, it just happened. Even if he went away and I never saw him again, he would still love me in a certain way. I started crying harder when I had finished reading that, praying that he would survive.

Suddenly, before I could really understand it, a sharp, intense pain shot to my stomach, making me lock my arms tight across it. It quickly spread from my stomach to my spine, my ribcage, almost making me go blind from the pain. I closed my eyes tight and clenched my jaw, curling into a ball into the chair.

“Leila, are you okay?” I heard somebody speak through the ringing in my ears. Then, everything went black.