The Bringer

I don’t know where these words are coming from. It’s like one minute, I can’t speak and now I can’t seem to stop.

His eyes brighten and he sits forward, his voice eager as he says, “I know what you mean. I mean, of course I wanted to see you again to talk about the accident, but I also wanted to see you because – well it seemed so final last night, you know – I just couldn’t leave it there –” I nod, in agreement until he goes on to say, “ – because I just feel so incredibly indebted to you, Lucyna. I had to see you again so I can find out some way in which to repay you.”

I stop nodding as my whole body sinks. And I can’t stop my face from falling. He feels indebted to me. Indebted. I inwardly cringe at my moment of stupidity. Of course he does. How could I have been so stupid to think for one moment that he may have wanted to see me for any other reason?

I see the look of confusion swilling around his eyes and I quickly erase any trace of woe from my face, forcing a smile onto my lips. It feels awkward and loose, but I hold firm as I say, “You don’t have to do anything, James. You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, I do,” he nods vigorously, “and I will find some way to repay you.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “What did happen last night? I mean what did you see? It’s all a bit of a blank for me. Last thing I remember, I was driving through Surrey heading home from Joe’s wedding and my sat nav was playing up, fucking thing.” He shakes his head. “It decided to detour me down some back roads and I was trying to find my way to the motorway, then nothing, just a big fat blank, until I woke up here, that is.”

“Well, I was walking down the road and you drove past me in your car.”

He frowns. “I drove past you?”

“Yes.”

He rubs his head, his eyes narrowing onto me. “I don’t remembering seeing you, but, then again, I don’t remember much of anything,” he says, his gaze relaxing. “Sorry, carry on.”

“Well about twenty or so seconds later after you’d passed me, I heard tyres screeching and then a sort of crashing, explosive noise. So I ran toward the noise and saw the front of your car mangled up with a tree, and it was on fire – your car that is. I managed to get the door open and saw you were unconscious, so I released your seatbelt and pulled you from the car. Then I carried you down the road away from it as far as I could manage.”

He’s looking at me with what can only be described as awe, shaking his head. “I just – can’t believe – you did that.”

I shrug, feeling abashed.

“Well I think you’re amazing,” he says, and I can feel my face heating. “It’s a huge thing you did for me, Lucyna. Most people would have run in the opposite direction from a burning car.” He reaches over again, taking hold of my arm, squeezing it, sending a jolt searing up my arm.

I glance up at him and he’s staring intently at me. He doesn’t look away and neither do I. Our eyes are locked together.

“I don’t understand that,” I murmur. “How another hu - person - could leave someone to die like that.”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t, but there’s plenty out there who would.”

“I could never have left you.” I can feel myself been pulled to him, almost like there’s a magnetic force drawing me closer

James smiles a crooked smile and relaxes his gaze, instantly bringing me to my senses. I shift back in my seat and avert my eyes, looking out of the window.

“There has to be something I can do for you, some way I can repay you.”

His words instantly remind me of his reason for asking me here, that he views me as nothing more than his saviour, as he should. I forget that he’s only known me for a few hours, unlike the weeks I’ve known him. Those few intense weeks. Obviously he doesn’t feel for me as I do for him. I need to rein myself in and behave like any other normal human being would in this type of situation. I shake my head. “There’s nothing I need, James.”

“Nothing?” He echoes disbelievingly, eyes amused, leaning toward me.

“Nothing.” I smile.

He laughs, shaking his head and resting back onto his bed.

“So how long do you have to stay here?” I ask, opting for a subject change.

He stretches his arms above his head, crooking his head from side to side. “They’re letting me out today.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The doctor came round first thing and said I was okay to be released home. I’m just waiting for them to let me know when. Surprising really, usually takes ages to see a doctor. They’re probably short on beds.” He laughs, but it sounds forced.

“That’s good news for you.” But that’s not what I’m really thinking. All I can think, is when will I be able to see him again? The realisation hits me with a dull thud. It’s not like it used to be, I can’t just choose to see him whenever I wish. When he leaves here, I can’t just drop into his house at any given moment. At least whilst he’s in the hospital I can use the visiting aspect as a reason for seeing him, but when he’s at home I can’t do that. Things are changing so quickly and I can’t decipher whether it’s for the best or not.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice suddenly dull. “I can’t wait to get home.” I hear his words, but know he doesn’t really mean it. I can see the traces of sadness shadowing his face which most people might have missed. I wish I knew exactly what it is he’s thinking. But I’m guessing it’s the thought of going home alone that makes him sad, knowing he’ll be thinking of Max, that he’s missing Max. It makes me want to hold him, comfort him, tell him Max is fine, that he’s in a wonderful place, a place where James should be right now, where he would be with Max. Maybe that’s what he would have wanted; no doubt he would have been happy there. I know how unhappy he’s been since Max died. I can openly see it now in his face. Maybe he would have preferred it if I had let him die so he could again be with his family. But now I have gone and interfered, changing his destiny for my own selfish reasons.

All my arrogance, my assurance that I had done the right thing for him was really that I was doing the right thing for me. What a self-serving being I have truly become.

Guilt shrouds me, prickling at my skin, the truth sinking its sentient teeth into me, wounding me. I wrap my arms around myself and avert my eyes to the floor, desperately trying to contain my feelings.

“Lucyna?” The tone in his voice instantly draws my eyes up to his. I can see the affliction in them as he says, “I wanted to ask you –”

But he never finishes the sentence because the door bursts open. I nearly jump out of my seat. For a moment, I think it’s the Elders coming for me. It’s not, obviously. It’s Sara, James’ friend.

“James! Thank God you’re okay! Why didn’t you call me! I mean I had to bloody hear it from Neil of all people, whom you rang, might I add, and then he rings me to see if I’m going to see you in the hospital, and I’m like what are you on about? Jesus Christ, I’ve been so worried! I tried to call your phone but –” she stops abruptly as she registers my presence. Her eyes flick from me, to James, then back to me.

“Sara, this is Lucyna.” He gestures to me, then he points in Sara’s direction. “Lucyna, this is my friend, Sara.”

She openly runs her eyes over me, appraising me.

“Nice to meet you, Sara,” I say.

“Yeah. Same.” She walks around to the other side of the bed, dragging the other chair up beside James. I see the narrowed look he gives her, but she’s too busy eyeballing me to notice.

“Lucyna saved my life,” James says with that reverent tone in his voice he’s seemingly taken to using whilst on the subject. My face once again grows hot with embarrassment at his erroneous opinion of me. “She pulled me from my car whilst it was on fire.”

“Your car was on fire!” she says aghast.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m not sure what happened but on the way back from that wedding I told you I was going to, I somehow managed to crash my car into a tree, and it set on fire. Lucyna pulled me out of it. If it wasn’t for her I’d be dead right now.”

She scoots her chair closer to him. “My God, James. I can’t believe it – Jesus Christ. I just –” She pauses and shakes her head. “But you’re okay now, though?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a broken leg and a few stitches.” He points to his head. “I’m lucky. It would have been much, much, worse, if it wasn’t for Lucyna.”

She nods her head slowly, gazing at him, then pulls her eyes away from him to look at me. “Thank you for what you did, for saving James,” she says with real sincerity before placing a protective hand on his arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She shakes her head. “Well it doesn’t even bear thinking about.” She gazes back at him and I suddenly feel like I’ve intruded on a moment I don’t really belong in.

But James’s eyes aren’t on her. He’s staring straight ahead. He picks up his glass of water and begins to sip it. Sara looks down at her hands. For a few seconds there’s a really awkward, prickly silence in the room, making those seconds feel like hours.

Sara looks up at me and forces a smile onto her lips, her eyes drifting to the door behind me. I’m getting the distinct impression that she doesn’t require my presence here any more.

Maybe I should go, give them time alone to talk. But I’m torn as I really don’t want to leave James. Selfish, I know.

Fortunately the reasonable, selfless side of me wins, even though parting from him for even just a short space of time fills me with dread. But I have to redeem myself in some way, show myself I’m not totally self-serving.

I stand up. James’ surprised eyes instantly follow me up. “I should go.” I point toward the door.

“Go?” His brow furrows. “Oh, right, I just, I – er, I haven’t had a chance to thank you – I mean properly. I really need to do something to repay you –” The hesitancy in his voice is audible and I somehow manage to keep the smile from my face at his reaction to my impending departure while ensuring I avoid acknowledging the scowl on Sara’s.

“I can come back later if you still need to talk to me about the accident,” I say.

His face relaxes and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Would you? I’m not –”

“James?” He’s interrupted by a female voice, and I glance at the door to see a large portly woman in nurse’s attire, with glasses perched on the tip of her nose, standing partway into the room, her hand holding the door open. She pauses momentarily, peering over her glasses at us all, then continues on to say, “Your discharge papers will be ready for you sometime this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” he says.