I Want You To

         So, I’ve made it around the Sun eighteen times. Go me! I never really understood why a birthday is such a cause for celebration - it’s not like I did anything spectacular: I was born. I played no part in that. So why do people congratulate me? It makes no sense.
         Unfortunately, to others, it makes perfect sense, and those others are always up before I am. I brace myself as I trump sleepily down the stairs. I wont even get a chance to get a coffee before -
         “Happy birthday!” cheer my mum, brother and sister the instant I walk in the door, which, by the way, has a silvery sparkly banner saying “Happy 18th Birthday” in pink silvery lettering on it. But that’s nothing compared to the living room. I think Mum got a bit over-excited with the decorations; they’re everywhere! There’s balloons hanging from the ceiling, more banners on the walls, confetti on the floor (isn’t that for weddings?) and tinsel round the picture frames (isn’t that for Christmas?).
         “Congratulations, sweetie,” Mum beams and throws her arms around me.
         “You made it around the sun again,” Ellis winks. I roll my eyes at her as Mum disengages herself from me.
         “If I don’t get some coffee, I might not make it this year,” I mumble, right before Alex thrusts a cup of hot brown stuff in my hand.
         “We can’t have that,” he grins.
         “You know me too well,” I reply, and, after taking a sip, I realise just how true that is.
         “Well, here you are then,” my mum practically squeals, trying and ultimately failing to contain her excitement, as she thrusts an envelope into my other hand. I feel momentarily confused at suddenly having no free hands, before my brain wakes up enough to tell me to put my mug of coffee down on the table. I do this and open the envelope, wishing I had a knife to cut a gap in the tension so they can breathe. Killed by tension. What a way to go!
         Of course, I find their tension fully understandable when I find out that inside this plain white envelope are two plane tickets to Florida!
         “Mum, are you mental?!” I squeal in much the same way Mum did ten seconds ago.
         “Just a little,” she admits, and it’s my turn to throw my arms around her.
         “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I gush, feeling like a five-year-old in Toys R Us who’s just been told she can have everything and anything she wants.
         “Your brother and sister chipped in,” she informs me. I detach myself from her, grab hold of them and crush them both to me. The sharp intake of breath from the pair of them indicates that ‘crush’ was the right word to use.
         “I love you guys so much,” I say.
         “We’d love you more if you let us breathe,” gasps Ellis. I release them.
         “So, who are you going to take?” asks Alex, and my heart almost stops. I can’t choose! There’s no way I could possibly choose!
         “Alex! What did I tell you. Don’t wind her up like that,” Mum tells him off, and my heart begins to beat normally again. Then she turns to me. “They’re for you and Emily. You two have been on about meeting Mickey Mouse since you were tiny. Go release that inner child before you have to lock her away and become a serious, grumpy grown-up.”
         “Mum, you never locked away your inner child,” I point out.
         “You’re only young once-” she begins, “-but you can be immature forever,” we all say together.

<center>***</center>

         It’s a few too many bars later and I’ll admit I’m on the wrong side of tipsy. Emily, of course, is fine and dandy and raring to go, hunting the streets of Edinburgh for yet another bar, preferably one she’ll pull in.
         “Ooh, never been in this one before,” she says excitedly, grabs my hand and darts in the door. This causes my not-so-fine-and-dandy self to almost fall flat on my face. Emily’s Nicole Radar must have gone off because she caught me and placed me back in the upright position.
         “Whoops! One too many I think,” she giggles.
         “Just one?” I groan as my head spins.
         “Just one more bar, I promise.”
         “You said that three bars ago.”
         “No, I didn’t. I said ‘Just one more bar’. I didn’t promise.”
         “Pedantic,” I mutter.
         “It makes all the difference in the world,” she insists. “Come on.”
         She grabs my hand again, but this time I keep my balance, and we’re in.
         The dull roar that had previously been heard in the background rushes at me full on as soon as the inside door opens. But it’s a song I love. And I’m a bad dancer. But a drunk bad dancer. So, of course, I’m up on the dance floor before anyone can stop me and tell me I’m about to make a total fool of myself. Emily bursts out laughing, but I don’t care - it’s my birthday and I’ll dance if I want to!
         So I do. Hands in the air like I just don’t care, sweaty pits on show for all. I throw in some hip-swishing and bum-wagging and you’ve got a totally un-choreographed, completely improvised drunken dancing masterpiece. Minus twirls. I’d add some twirls, but I’m afraid of ending up on the floor being trodden on.
         “Dancing in the moonlight!” I sing along and the ground rushes up to meet me, or I rush down to meet the ground, whichever way you want to look at it. I think I just twirled. Damn. I was trying so hard not to as well.
         A hand reaches down for me. I grab it as if it were a lifeline and pull myself up. Okay, so it pulls me up.
         “I think someone needs to sit down,” says a voice I don’t recognise from a mouth on a face I don’t recognise. This one has short spiky blonde hair and green eyes. The face I was expecting (Emily’s) has long blonde hair and brown eyes. How confusing.
         “Dana,” she introduces herself, probably in response to my confused looking face.
         “Nicole,” I reply. “But only my mum calls me that. When she’s angry with me. Most people call me Nic. Except my sister, she calls me Nicki because it annoys me, so I call her Ellie.”
         “And I’m just plain ol’ Dana,” she laughs. Oh God, I just made a twat of myself didn’t I? I haven’t rambled like that since Emily insisted I flirted with the guy at the corner shop after I confessed I thought he was “kinda cute, I suppose”. Why did I just do it now?
         “Come on, you need to sit down,” she starts towards the cushioned seats around the edge, but I’m having none of it.
         “But I adore this song!” I inform her and pull her towards me. “Dance with me!”
         “Okay,” she laughs. “But then I’m getting you a coffee.”
         She raises my hand in the air with hers and we shimmy. I like to shimmy.
         “But I’m wide awake!” I argue as she twirls me.
         “I can see that,” she replies putting her arm around my waist and pulling me toward her to prevent a second post-twirl meet-and-greet with the floor. We practically stop as the music fades, just looking into each others eyes, swaying gently, experiencing a feeling I can’t describe because I’ve never felt it before.
         She breaks the spell after what felt like eternity and a split second all at once.
         “Right, song’s finished. Coffee,” she half leads, half drags me over to the bar, where she orders me a coffee.
         “So, what’s the occasion then?” she asks me as we await my sober-up juice, having to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the next song thumping away in the background.
         “Why does there need to be an occasion?” I use Emily’s usual reply. She always was better with people than me. Although, I never usually care what other people think of me.
         “There doesn’t but I get the feeling you don’t drink often,” she explains. I laugh.
         “That obvious?”
         “I’d say no, but I’d be lying, and my mum always said that was bad,” she smiles and a butterfly or ten flap their wings in my stomach. “So what are you celebrating? I like an excuse.”
         “The Sun and the Earth’s gravitational relationship,” I admit, willing the butterflies to remain still. She laughs as if it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in a while. The comment, not the butterflies. At least, that’s what I hope. “I’ve begun my nineteenth orbit around the sun,” I continue, hoping that if she did hear all the activity in the pit of my stomach, that it will distract her.
         “Congratulations!” she says as the bartender puts a mug of steaming coffee down in front of us. “Thanks.” She pushes it towards me. “Happy birthday! Sorry, it’s all I could get on such short notice.”
         “Thanks,” I say as I dig around in my pocket for some money to pay the bartender.
         “No,” she says and lays her hand on my arm, sending a bolt of electricity from her touch to my stomach, inducing my butterflies into a mad frenzy. “My treat. It is your birthday after all.”
         “Lucky for me, because I don’t seem to have any money anyway. Emily must have taken it off of me to stop me spending it.”
         “Oh,” she says, seeming disappointed about something. “Is Emily your-”
         “Hey Nic!” announces Emily as she plonks her arm around my shoulder.
         “Speak of the devil,” I mutter.
         “Could you excuse us for a sec?” she asks Dana. “Big news!”
         “Sure,” she says, and leaves, still seeming disappointed, and, I’ll admit, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed myself as I watch her walk away.
         “So, what’s the big news then?” I ask, realising that I don’t really care much; I just want to speak to Dana. Emily just bursts out laughing, and I begin to feel irritated.
         “I didn’t think you’d noticed,” she says.
         “Noticed what?” I ask, making her giggle again.
         “Just look around,” she says, and I do. I don’t see much: people dancing, people drinking, two blokes kissing on the dance floor, people chatting on the…oh…two blokes, kissing. Emily laughs again so the realisation must have been clear on my face.
         “Gay bar!” she exclaims, and a few people turn to look at her. She waves at them.
         “Oh…should we…go then?” I ask, but not wanting to.
         “No, no, don’t be daft. Seeing you with that chick, I realised why every relationship you’ve ever had has been a disaster: they’ve all been with men!” She seems proud at her observation.
         “You think I could be…” I trail off, knowing she’s probably right. I’ve never been comfortable in romantic relationships with men. I’ve never found myself attracted to a girl before either.
         “Nic, I’ve never seen you look at a guy the way you looked at her. Go talk to her, dance with her, whatever. Go have fun. I just thought I should let you know so you didn’t freak and blow it all if she tried to kiss you.”
         I don’t say anything.
         “Don’t sit there in shock. Go!” she orders me.
         “I’m actually shocked at the fact that I’m not shocked, and you’re not shocked, and are actually telling me to go to her. Emily you are truly the greatest person I’ve ever known,” I say and throw my arms around her. Over her shoulder I see Dana looking at us sadly. She thinks me and Emily are a couple. I have to go set her right.
         “You sure that’s not the drink talking?” Emily asks.
         “Now who’s being daft?” I say as I unwrap my arms from her.
         I’m about to walk over to Dana when I feel my mobile phone ringing in my pocket. I dig it out and look at the screen - it’s Ellis.
         “I’ll have to go outside to answer this, I’ll never hear it in here,” I explain.
         “Okay. I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave without you.”
         “Thanks,” I smile and leave.
         The silence hits me when I walk outside and the cold air rushes to my head. I suddenly feel a lot more sober than I did three minutes ago.
I answer the persistently ringing phone.
         “Hey, kid!” I greet my little sister.
         “Nic,” she says, and I immediately know something’s wrong, but she doesn’t go on.
         “El, what’s wrong?” I ask, but there’s a pause, and it’s my brother’s voice I hear next.
         “Mum’s in hospital,” he says, devoid of any emotion, and my heart stops. Mum can’t be in hospital. Not Mum. That’s just…she can’t be…she just can’t. This is Mum we’re talking about. Mum and her external inner child.
         “Nic?” Alex’s voice brings be back to the real world and I realise I haven’t spoken for a good few seconds.
         “What happened?” I breathe.
         “Car crash,” he answers in that same voice. It’s like he’s hiding from his emotions, scared of what he’ll feel. It’s heartbreaking.
         “Oh God. How bad?”
         “She’s been in surgery. She’s stable, but she’s in a coma.”
         “I’ll be right there,” I say and stick my hand out to an approaching taxi. It begins to slow.
         “We need you Nic,” he says as his voice breaks. I hear him trying to contain his tears. It almost makes me start crying.
         “Nonsense, you two shared a womb, I’m sure you’ll be fine without me,” I comfort him as I climb into the taxi. “But I’m on my way. Just getting in the taxi now. General Hospital, yeah?”
         “Yeah,” he replies, his voice barely a whisper, and I relay the information to the taxi driver.
         “She’ll be fine, Al, she’s a tough cookie. ‘Never give up without a fight’ and all that. She’ll pull through,” I say, trying to convince myself at the same time.
         “Yeah,” he replies in the same whisper. I can hear Ellis crying in the background, begging Mum to wake up.
         “Well, go comfort Ellis, I’ll be there soon.”
         “Okay.”
         “Bye.”
         “Bye.”
         The taxi journey passes in a blur. About half way there, I suddenly remembered Emily and the fact I just disappeared, and that she’ll worry when I don’t come back in, so I texted her to tell her what had happened. I don’t think I could have bared to say it out loud.
When we arrive at the hospital, I give the taxi driver a ten pound note.
         “Keep the change,” I say and run into reception.
         “I need to find my Mum. Kathy Gordon. Car accident,” I rattle off. The receptionist looks at me sympathetically then taps away on her keyboard.
         “She’s in the ICU. It’s in the North Wing, second floor, room forty-two. Do you know your way?” she asks. I nod and thank her. Of course I know my way. After the number of times I visited Dad as that damn tumour slowly ate away at his brain, I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Though, I hoped I would. I hoped I’d never have to visit a hospital again. Yet here I am, treading down the same old corridors, lined with the same white walls, the air filled with the same disinfectant smell, the same doctors, the same nurses, all running around treating the same illnesses. The only thing that changes are the patients. There’s always somebody in pain, somebody ill, families in hope that their loved ones will be alright or miserable when they’re not.          Even they’re all the same really. Nothing ever changes.
         I burst into room forty-two where Mum’s lying wired up to all these machines, a tube down her throat, covered in cuts and bruises. It’s such a shock to see that I stop dead in my tracks. Mum’s always been strong. Even after Dad, she never lost herself. She grieved, yes, but she didn’t lose herself. She stayed strong, for us, so we didn’t lose ourselves. She’s the one who kept this family going. And to see her like this now, so fragile, it’s such a shock to my system.
Ellis, who was sitting on Mum’s right side (Alex is on her left), holding her hand, gets up and comes to me as soon as I step foot through the door. She buries her tearstained face into my neck and I hold her close, unable to take my eyes off of Mum.
         “She only went to get some milk,” I hear the muffled voice of Ellis say.
         “We ran out. She said we’d need it for breakfast in the morning, that she’d just nip out and get it while the shop was still open. We told her it didn’t matter, but she insisted. I shouldn’t have let her go,” Alex blames himself. “I shouldn’t have let her go.” He breaks again.
         “Hey, this isn’t your fault, ‘kay?” I insist, walking over and laying my hands on his shoulders, looking straight into his eyes, willing him to believe me. He looks away.
         “Alex,” I say to get his attention again. He looks back at me. “Okay?” He nods, tears silently rolling down his cheek. I wrap my arms around him. “We’ll be okay. Mum’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.”
         “That’s what we all said when Dad-” Ellis starts, but I silence her, despite thinking the same thing myself.
         “Let’s be optimistic, yeah?” I say. “That’s what Mum would want.”
         They nod silently and Ellis resumes her place at Mum’s bedside. I stand at the foot of the bed looking down the three of them, trying not to break myself. Mum was strong for us when Dad died, now I have to be strong for Alex and Ellis. Only, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.

<center>***</center>

         A feminine hand places a polystyrene cup of coffee down in front of me as I sit staring blankly ahead in the all-too-familiar hospital cafeteria.
         “Figured that one had gone cold,” says a voice I vaguely recognise, referring to the coffee I’m cradling in my hands. I ask my thermo receptors if what the voice said is true and they tell me it is. Seems I’ve been down here a while.
         “Thanks,” I say, and look up to discover the identity of my mystery coffee-bringer. The fact that this causes my stomach to do a front flip might give you a clue as to who she is. Yup, spiky-haired, green-eyed Dana. She smiles down at me sympathetically.
         “D’you mind if I sit down?” she asks. I shake my head and she sits in the chair opposite me. “I heard what happened.”
         I don’t really know how to respond, so I don’t. I take a sip of my coffee as if it’s the reason I’m not replying. This doesn’t work out so well since it’s still scorching hot. I try not to wince and lower the cup to the table. Then the bizarreness of the situation hits me.
         “How?” I ask.
         “I was helping Emily look for you when she got your text.”
         “And you came over here?” I ask. “You only knew me for ten minutes.”
         “It was an enjoyable ten minutes,” she smiles, and so do I. Then I remember Mum, and my smile fades. In response, Dana reaches across the table and squeezes my hands. I stare down at this joining point, telling my butterflies to stop being so overexcited; it’s happening, and it…it feels right. We’re together, and it feels right. So don’t make me make a fool of myself. Let it work out this time.
         “Me and Emily, we’re not, together, we’re just-” I begin stuttering, making a brilliant start at not-making-a-fool-of-myself.
         “I know,” she stops me before I make an uber fool of myself. “She explained on the way over. Stumbling unknowingly into a gay bar and discovering your sexuality. What are the odds of that?.”
         “Yeah,” I say sadly, thinking of Mum. “What are the odds?” I add bitterly.
         Dana looked like she was going to ask me what I meant by that but seemed to see the expression on my face and decided against it. So we sit in silence for a moment. A moment where my hands send multiple electrical signals to my brain all at once: her hands are so soft, warm, comforting, holding so tenderly. Then there’s other thoughts already running around in there, like the fact that she’s a girl and how I’d never even considered that I could be gay, even after multiple relationships that all failed because it felt awkward, wrong, and how I shouldn’t even be thinking about it all anyway with my mum upstairs in a coma. All these signals get confused on their race to reach my brain first, and then when they do they’re being fought off by everything that’s already there, resulting in giving me the jitters.
         Dana seems to sense this and lets go of me. To prevent me from flinging my hands across the table, grabbing hers and screaming “Don’t let go!”, I take another sip of my coffee and discover that it works as a brain-descrambler as well as a brain-awakener.
         “Do you think that for every good thing that happens, something bad has to happen?” I ask thoughtfully.
         “No. I believe that good things happen and bad things happen and sometimes they happen at once and we should only focus on the bad things enough to fix them while always remembering that the good things are still up there waiting on us. Don’t drown in the bad things, fly in the good.”
         We sit in silence for a few minutes as I think about her words. They’re good words. They have a point. A very good point. But it’s one of those things that’s easier said than done.
         “I’m so scared,” I just about manage to choke out. Dana moves her chair round so it’s next to mine and puts her arm around my shoulders. “I can’t lose Mum as well. We already lost Dad. And they’re only fifteen, they’re just kids. They need me. They…they need me, and I…I can’t stay strong for them…like Mum did. I just…I just can’t.”
         “Shh,” she gently silences my bubbling. “You’re only considering the worst that could happen. What about the best, hmm? What if she’s okay? What if you all go back to your lives and over time forget it ever happened?”
         “But what if she’s not?” I counteract in barely a whisper, before falling into that uncontrollable sobbing fit I was anticipating when I came down here so I could do it out of sight of Alex and Ellis.
         “Come here,” she says and directs my head onto her shoulder; a shoulder I proceed to make incredibly wet, but she doesn’t seem to mind; she just sits there, running her fingers through my hair, soothing me, until I can finally control myself.
         “Feel better?” she asks me and I nod as I raise my head. In response to my movement, her hand slides from my neck down my back and comes to rest on my waist. My whole body goes weak.
         “A little,” I say weakly, lying slightly. I actually feel a lot better. I wouldn’t have raised my head from her shoulder if I hadn’t started to feel guilty about soaking it. “Sorry, about your shoulder.”
         “Don’t worry about it,” she replies.
         “You can have my top if you want, I’ll just sit in my coat,” I offer, the words tumbling out of my mouth.
         “Nic,” she says my name for the first time and somehow I like it a whole lot better when spoken in her graceful tones. “I said, don’t worry about it.”
         Looking into her eyes, I find it difficult to worry about anything.
         I’m hit by a tsunami of guilt. My mum’s in a coma and I’m not worrying. I stand up abruptly, my chair screeching as it scrapes along the floor. A few of the people in the almost-deserted cafeteria look over at the noise, but I don’t care.
         “I should get back to Mum,” I say, but when I look down at her, I find I don’t want to leave. Well, I do; I want to sit by my mum’s bedside, I just don’t want to leave her to do it. The world seems so much warmer when she’s with me. I feel suddenly cold now that her hand is no longer on my waist.
         She looks up at me and maintains eye contact as she stands. Her gaze quenches my tsunami and restores my internal calmness. She laces her fingers with mine and warmth floods my body again.
         “Come on then. I did tell Emily I’d bring you back.”
         “Where is she?” I ask, remembering that she said they both came over, and noticing the lack of Emily.
         “She stayed with your brother and sister. She insisted I came down alone, but wouldn’t say why.”
         “She’s been hooking me up with people for years. I think she’s relieved to finally find someone who might stay for longer than a week,” I say before I think, then laugh nervously. She smiles.
         “I will if you want me to.”
         I want you to.