‘How’s Martina?’ Graciela tried to engage Juan as they started the hourly exercise regime, moving his limbs and feet and hands. Martina had been here until eleven and Juan had pretended to be asleep the last two times the nursing staff had come around. It was important to know what was happening in the patients’ lives as they adjusted to their injuries. ‘Is she still worrying about moving the wedding date?’
There was a long stretch of silence before Juan finally answered, ‘We broke up.’
‘I’m sorry, Juan.’ Graciela looked over at Manuel, who took over the conversation.
‘What happened?’ Manuel asked. He wasn’t being nosey—the mental health of their patients was a priority, and he chatted as he moved Juan’s index finger and thumb together and apart, over and over—as they did every hour—and then moved to rotating his wrist. Both simple exercises might mean in the future Juan could hold a cup, or do up a button, or hold a pen.
‘We just…’ Juan did not want to discuss it, still could not take it in, could not comprehend how every aspect of his life had now changed. ‘It was mutual.’
‘Okay.’ Graciela checked his obs and shared another look with Manuel. ‘I’ll see you a bit later, Juan. Hope-fully you’ll be asleep next time I come around and I won’t disturb you.’
Asleep or not, the exercises went on through the night.
Graciela moved on to the next bed, leaving Manuel to hopefully get Juan to open up a bit. Since his admission Juan had remained upbeat, insisted he was dealing with it, refusing to open up to anyone, and Graciela was worried about him, especially with the news of the break-up. Relationships often ended here; patients pushed loved ones away, or sometimes it was the other way around and the able-bodied partner simply could not cope with a world that had rapidly altered.
‘Hey, Eduard.’ She smiled down at the young man, who gave her a small grimace back and moved his eyes towards Juan’s bed. ‘Is he okay?’
‘He’ll get there.’
For the first time Juan didn’t think he would.
There was one thing more humiliating than a massive erection in full view of the nurses. It was starting to cry and not being able to excuse yourself, not being able to go to another room and close a door, to thump a wall, not even being able to wipe your own snot and tears.
‘Let it out, Juan,’ Manuel said as he covered Juan with a sheet and saw his patient’s face screw up and tears fill Juan’s grey eyes.
‘I…’ He didn’t want to let it out, he had held it all in and he wanted to keep doing so. There was young Eduard in the next bed. He’d only been here for three days and Juan didn’t want to scare him—Juan had been trying to cheer him up today.
He just couldn’t hold it in any more.
The sob that came out was primal, from a place he had never been.
‘Good man,’ Manuel said.
Juan lay there sobbing as Manuel wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He was in hell and humiliated and scared and everything he’d tried not to be.
‘Good man,’ Manuel said, over and over.
He’d been a good man, Juan thought. He’d done everything right, everything had been in place—an amazing career, a loving fiancée. He had been a good man.
‘No more…’ Juan said, incoherent almost as he sobbed.
But there was more and tonight he let it out.
Graciela stood there and wiped Eduard’s tears as they glimpsed for the first time Juan’s desolation and rage, and she swallowed a couple of tears of her own.
All Juan’s roommates cried quietly along with him. Two had been there before, giving in to the grief and the fear in the still of the night, and Eduard soon would. There was no privacy in their worlds right now and all the men had heard the painful exchange between Juan and Martina.
All were with Juan as finally he gave in and wept.
No one was with him, though, when, eighteen months later, Juan woke up in a foreign country, feeling the desolation all over again.
‘HOW HAS YOUR week been?’
Cate stopped for a brief chat with her neighbour as both women headed for work. Bridgette and her husband James were both in the police. It was nice being neighbours with fellow shift workers and, over the summer, Bridgette and Cate had spent several afternoons lying in one or the other’s garden and putting the world to rights.
‘It’s been good.’ Cate smiled as she lied. It had been a long week spent trying not to think about Juan and trying not to worry about work. ‘Have you had your interview?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Not yet, but I’m stepping in as Acting Manager on Monday.’
‘So you’re off the weekend?’
‘No, I’m working it, but if I do get the job I’ll have every weekend off.’
‘No more shift work!’ Bridgette exclaimed, and Cate gave a smile and a nod, then they chatted a bit about the unrelenting weather but soon enough Bridgette asked how Cate was doing since the break-up and if she’d met anyone else.
‘Not really.’
‘What does that mean?’ Bridgette asked. She was far too perceptive sometimes!
‘There is someone I like,’ Cate admitted. ‘Or rather there was. He’s from overseas and he’s heading off to New Zealand soon so, really, there’s no point.’
‘No point in what?’
‘Starting anything.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Bridgette gave her a very queer look. ‘He sounds perfect for having a bit of fun with after Paul! You’re not looking for forever, are you?’
‘No, but…’
‘Let you hair down and live a little while you’re single.’ Bridgette held up her hand and flashed her wedding ring. ‘While you still can…’ She winked. ‘I’ll come around over the weekend and we’ll have a proper chat.’
‘Do,’ Cate said. ‘I’d like that.’
Cate drove to work and tried to ignore the small bubble of disquiet that kept making itself known.
It had been the same towards the end of her relationship with Paul—everything had been going well, they’d got on, she’d cared about him; but when Paul had suggested moving in, they had been together for two years after all, Cate hadn’t wanted that. When he’d suggested that they look for somewhere together, Cate had really had to sit and examine her feelings.
Cate turned on the radio instead—she didn’t want to examine them now.
The staff car park was busy and Cate had to park well away from Emergency, which usually wouldn’t matter but the temperature had barely dropped overnight and Cate couldn’t wait to be in the air-conditioned hospital. The sky was a curious pink, even though the weather warned of no change or storms. Then, a week to the day after they’d shared that sizzling kiss, Cate saw him.
Only a madman would go running in this heat, Cate thought. An incredibly fit madman, though.
Juan was at the entrance to the hospital when she got there, trying to catch his breath before heading inside. He was bent over, his hands on his thighs, as he dragged in the sultry air. He was dressed in grey shorts and a top and they were drenched, as could