he did not need to raise it. I was sitting close enough to his bed to smell the soap from where the nurse had washed him earlier that night.
And I had heard it all before.
‘Max,’ he said. ‘Killing me would be a kindness, don’t you see? This is not me. I am never going to work again. I am never going to make love to a woman. My mother is going to be wiping my arse until the day she dies.’ Silence. ‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is not me.’
I had been there the night DI Curtis Gane broke his back.
He had stepped back from a man holding a black carbon lock knife with a four-inch blade and he fell two storeys and landed on his back, snapping the vertebrae connecting his head to his spine. It was that simple. It was that banal. It was that final.
I was in that derelict house that night. It could have been me, quickly stepping away from the man with the knife, and falling into the great sickening nothing until I landed on my back two storeys below. It could have been any policeman or woman who goes to work in the morning and can’t be sure that they won’t be coming home in a coffin or a wheelchair. The man who made Curtis fall – the man who had crippled him for life – had turned to me and stuck all four inches of that blade in my stomach. All these months later, I could still feel the blade inside me. I think I will feel it all my life. But I was lucky.
‘Curtis …’
He heard something in my voice that encouraged him.
‘It’s simple, Max,’ he said excitedly. ‘We can do it after they have filled me with sleeping pills. That way I’m not going to fight you too hard when you hold the pillow over my face. No skin and blood under my fingernails, see. No bruises on my arm. They will never know. I’ll just stop breathing, Max, and it will be over and it will be better for everyone.’
We were silent for a bit, the pair of us alone with our thoughts in the hospital night. A hospital is never in total darkness, not even in the small hours, and ambient light from the corridor seeped into the room and made my friend a dark, unmoving silhouette on the bed, completely still, as if he was already dead.
‘No, Curtis,’ I said. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t. Let’s stop talking about it.’
‘If you’re afraid of getting caught—’
‘I’m not doing it!’ I said, standing up as he cursed me, and something stuck in my throat because I knew that Curtis Gane would never stand on his own two feet again.
‘Then you’re a selfish, selfish pig, Max,’ he said, and then it was far worse because he began to cry, and I stood there with no words to say, and nothing to comfort him.
‘Who else can I ask?’ he said. ‘Tell me that, you selfish bastard.’
‘Nobody,’ I said. ‘There’s nobody else to ask, Curtis. There’s only me. I’m the only person you can ask. I’m it. And I’m saying no.’
He ran a hand across his face. He chuckled in the darkness.
‘Is this where you give me the pep talk about living a full life despite not being able to feel anything from the waist down?’ he said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘You’ve heard it all before.’
There was a soft knock on the door. I was expecting it and opened it to let the woman in. A pretty girl with bad skin and a kind smile. Quite short, a shade over five feet, but her heels were high. She clutched her handbag as though it contained something of huge value as she came into the room.
‘Jana?’ I said. ‘I’m Max. And this is my friend Curtis.’
Jana slowly approached the bed, still with that kind smile on her face.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Curtis.’
‘I can’t do anything,’ he said, his voice thick with shame.
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘Totally fine. We can just talk. And we can just hold each other.’
She sat on the edge of his bed, holding both of his hands in her own. His voice stopped me at the door and at that moment I believed he had come to truly hate me.
‘This is your answer,
And I had heard it all before.
‘Max,’ he said. ‘Killing me would be a kindness, don’t you see? This is not me. I am never going to work again. I am never going to make love to a woman. My mother is going to be wiping my arse until the day she dies.’ Silence. ‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is not me.’
I had been there the night DI Curtis Gane broke his back.
He had stepped back from a man holding a black carbon lock knife with a four-inch blade and he fell two storeys and landed on his back, snapping the vertebrae connecting his head to his spine. It was that simple. It was that banal. It was that final.
I was in that derelict house that night. It could have been me, quickly stepping away from the man with the knife, and falling into the great sickening nothing until I landed on my back two storeys below. It could have been any policeman or woman who goes to work in the morning and can’t be sure that they won’t be coming home in a coffin or a wheelchair. The man who made Curtis fall – the man who had crippled him for life – had turned to me and stuck all four inches of that blade in my stomach. All these months later, I could still feel the blade inside me. I think I will feel it all my life. But I was lucky.
‘Curtis …’
He heard something in my voice that encouraged him.
‘It’s simple, Max,’ he said excitedly. ‘We can do it after they have filled me with sleeping pills. That way I’m not going to fight you too hard when you hold the pillow over my face. No skin and blood under my fingernails, see. No bruises on my arm. They will never know. I’ll just stop breathing, Max, and it will be over and it will be better for everyone.’
We were silent for a bit, the pair of us alone with our thoughts in the hospital night. A hospital is never in total darkness, not even in the small hours, and ambient light from the corridor seeped into the room and made my friend a dark, unmoving silhouette on the bed, completely still, as if he was already dead.
‘No, Curtis,’ I said. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t. Let’s stop talking about it.’
‘If you’re afraid of getting caught—’
‘I’m not doing it!’ I said, standing up as he cursed me, and something stuck in my throat because I knew that Curtis Gane would never stand on his own two feet again.
‘Then you’re a selfish, selfish pig, Max,’ he said, and then it was far worse because he began to cry, and I stood there with no words to say, and nothing to comfort him.
‘Who else can I ask?’ he said. ‘Tell me that, you selfish bastard.’
‘Nobody,’ I said. ‘There’s nobody else to ask, Curtis. There’s only me. I’m the only person you can ask. I’m it. And I’m saying no.’
He ran a hand across his face. He chuckled in the darkness.
‘Is this where you give me the pep talk about living a full life despite not being able to feel anything from the waist down?’ he said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘You’ve heard it all before.’
There was a soft knock on the door. I was expecting it and opened it to let the woman in. A pretty girl with bad skin and a kind smile. Quite short, a shade over five feet, but her heels were high. She clutched her handbag as though it contained something of huge value as she came into the room.
‘Jana?’ I said. ‘I’m Max. And this is my friend Curtis.’
Jana slowly approached the bed, still with that kind smile on her face.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Curtis.’
‘I can’t do anything,’ he said, his voice thick with shame.
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘Totally fine. We can just talk. And we can just hold each other.’
She sat on the edge of his bed, holding both of his hands in her own. His voice stopped me at the door and at that moment I believed he had come to truly hate me.
‘This is your answer,
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