Being Kalli(83)

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Miss Perkins.” The nurse with the bun wound at the back of her head and calm grey eyes stops, one hand to the doorjamb. “You okay?”

“Guess as good as I can be.” I look around my bed. Yeah, I probably look shit. Thank God the makeup’s all gone now. “I was wondering about Nate. Nate Rocchi?”

“He’ll be just fine.” She clicks her tongue, then says, “Looked after himself and you, my dear, very well. He’ll be just fine.”

I nod, but then call out, “Something else?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Is Donovan in this hospital? Is he able to come in here?”

“He has security and I assure you, we’ve made sure you can rest in peace. Bless.”

I’m alone for only fifteen minutes after she leaves but it feels like forever. I give my statement to the police and answer questions. I can’t afford a good lawyer at the moment, and it’s pretty simple what I say.

“He explained that he knew I was drunk and tried to force me to have sex with him. He knew I was out of the party, and when my friend had to duck back inside, he faked a sore foot to get me off the path and pin me down.”

I explain me dialling Nate from my phone. And about how the only time I intentionally harmed Donovan was in defence, to prevent him from hurting or knocking out Nate.

Mum’s allowed in afterward, and after the questioning policemen, her entrance is a stark contrast. Her Ugg boots shuffle along the linoleum.

I face her directly. I see her handbag tucked under her arm, a frown at one side of her lips. She combs her hair down and tucks it under her collar then sits on the chair and reaches her arm out to me.

The déjà vu hits me like a heavy sack, and the path of the weight that hits me in the chest is like a rolling ball, dragging my breath away for a moment until I look over my body and smooth down my sheets. And take a breath. It’s cool, fresh. I meet her gaze again. In her hollow expression, I read that maybe she’s still hazy about her own hospital stay, but she feels exactly how I just did.

The pain in her eyes makes them darken, and her whole demeanour is slowed down. Her blinks are sweeping, her glance over my form in the bed is intent, and she appears drowned in pain.

Heat swirls at my eyes. Not wanting to feel the wetness that will grow next I just smile at her. I find it from somewhere in me, somewhere that recognises I have a mum to come to my bedside, one that finds somewhere to leave her four-year-old sons at this hour and comes as soon as she can—the middle of the night—and a mum who cares about me as much as I love her.

I could have no mum.

I could have a mum too busy for me.

I could have a mum too worried about appearances and pleasing others.

But I have Mary Perkins with me, a mum who loved me too much from the moment I was born and ate up her mistakes and regrets unknowingly because of what they did. So much devastation connects us together here. Mum, the one who came to my hospital bed this time; Mum looking after me; me, the one could have ended up like her, how she got pregnant with me.

I realise that both her and I are far from perfect, but after everything fell apart, we came together and were able to dig deep into our feelings to realise how similar we both are.

Passion.

Love.

Fear.

“Baby,” she says, breaking through my moment.

“I’m sorry,” I say, as a reaction rather than meaning it. I’ve stirred up her night and hurt her.

“I love you so much, Kalli,” she says, leaning over to lay her head on my belly and drape her arms around mine. She touches my hands, and says, “I love you and you have nothing to be sorry for. Rather, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

I get that tone. The one where she’s unsure if she’s apologising for this night or for the last nineteen years.

“Okay, no more sorries from either of us then.”

“Just cuddles,” she adds.

“Yep.”

By three-thirty am Mum’s passed out over the back of her sofa chair and my eyelids are heavy like lead. There’s a sense of fear still pumping me alert every time I want to rest which conflicts with my calm at feeling safe with my mum for the first time ever. Knowing Donovan is under guard, away from me, is another soothing element that makes me lie in a lull.

I just lie there.

Tracing the cracks in the ceiling.

Grabs of conversations pass by my door.

When I finally wake, I forget where I am for an instant, but then Donovan and the party comes back to my memory, and I turn to see mum curled up and resting on her shoulder on one side of the sofa chair. I wonder how I got here and everything falls in place.

I expected to undo all my progress and my trust to shut right off, but I finally understand what it’s like to be looked after by a parent. It’s the most beautiful feeling in the world being that loved. I close my eyes and envision Nate, and all I want to do is bury into that spot in his chest where I can’t think of anything but his woody scent and the want for him to hold me, let me cry, and feel loved and safe.