the bag open and huffed and grumbled as I shoved his beanie pouch and the old half-a-blanket we wrap him in into the bag. I considered kicking the used-to-be-mine, now his-rumble-teddy-bear across the lounge room, but instead picked it up and stuffed it into the bag as well.
I shook my head and cussed at him as I shoved his bottles into the bag and I even threw in an apple or two.
Trav eyed me cautiously from the kitchen door. “Charlie, what are you doing?”
“Packing his stuff.” Which was stupid, because the bloody wombat didn’t have stuff .
“You can’t give him away,” Travis whispered. “You just said this morning you didn’t think you ever could…”
“Give him away?” I asked. I shook my head. “No, he’s coming with us.”
“Charlie…”
“I can’t expect anyone else to look after him,” I explained. “Nara has enough to do without worryin’ about night feeds and all that. Not to mention the fact that he’s decided to not let anyone but me feed him.”
Travis sighed, long and loud, but he rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the motel we stay at won’t let you keep him.”
“They won’t know.”
Travis walked up to me, patted Nugget on the head and kissed my cheek. “If you just don’t want to leave him here, just say it.”
“I don’t want to leave him here.”
He smiled. “I’ll go load the truck.”
Maybe it was stupid takin’ him with us, but the idea of him not feeding for however long we’d be gone for made my stomach twist. So the three of us piled up into the old ute; me driving, Trav on the passenger side and Nugget perched up like he was something special right in between us. And we headed into town, to the hospital more specifically, to be with Ma.
* * * *
I wasn’t too far wrong about talkin’ for the three hour drive into town. Normally Trav would put his head on my shoulder and his feet on the dash, but not this time.
He’d taken the bottles and apples out of the bag and put Nugget into it. It must have done alright as a pouch, because the little guy was soon asleep.
And then we talked.
I admitted to bein’ scared, and thinkin’ that maybe we should have called the doc a long time before now. Travis thought the same. Cancer was such a hard-hittin’ word, and as soon as the doc said it, everything changed. I apologised again for not stopping once to ask if he was okay. His scared-as-hell face in my office reminded me that I wasn’t the only one anymore. I should have thought about him first, and I was sorry. I was so used to him bein’ the strong one, the one who held me together, that I just didn’t think.
Of course Travis laughed at that. He told me I was stronger than I gave myself credit for, and that I was doing the right thing—the very best thing—by dropping everything and going with Ma to the hospital.
“She must be so scared,” he said.
We did a little less talkin’ and a bit more hand-holdin’ after that.
* * * *
We decided it was probably a better idea to find a place to stay first, feed Nugget and get him all settled then we could head to the hospital and spend some uninterrupted time with Ma and George.
It was gettin’ on late afternoon, and it wasn’t strictly visiting hours yet. But the lady behind the desk must have taken pity on me, whether I looked nervous or something, but when I asked what ward Katie Brown was in, her answer damn near made me cry.
Oncology.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hospitals are just a disinfected kind of hell.
I hated hospitals. I hated the smell. The acrid scent of sickness, industrial disinfectants and horrible food burned in my nose and the back of my throat.
But most of all, I hated seeing Ma in the hospital bed. It confirmed everything that the doc had said—that she really was this sick. She looked so small and frail in the impersonal bed, and of all the things my Ma was, frail just didn’t fit.
But as bad as she looked, I think George looked worse. He was sitting beside the bed,
I shook my head and cussed at him as I shoved his bottles into the bag and I even threw in an apple or two.
Trav eyed me cautiously from the kitchen door. “Charlie, what are you doing?”
“Packing his stuff.” Which was stupid, because the bloody wombat didn’t have stuff .
“You can’t give him away,” Travis whispered. “You just said this morning you didn’t think you ever could…”
“Give him away?” I asked. I shook my head. “No, he’s coming with us.”
“Charlie…”
“I can’t expect anyone else to look after him,” I explained. “Nara has enough to do without worryin’ about night feeds and all that. Not to mention the fact that he’s decided to not let anyone but me feed him.”
Travis sighed, long and loud, but he rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the motel we stay at won’t let you keep him.”
“They won’t know.”
Travis walked up to me, patted Nugget on the head and kissed my cheek. “If you just don’t want to leave him here, just say it.”
“I don’t want to leave him here.”
He smiled. “I’ll go load the truck.”
Maybe it was stupid takin’ him with us, but the idea of him not feeding for however long we’d be gone for made my stomach twist. So the three of us piled up into the old ute; me driving, Trav on the passenger side and Nugget perched up like he was something special right in between us. And we headed into town, to the hospital more specifically, to be with Ma.
* * * *
I wasn’t too far wrong about talkin’ for the three hour drive into town. Normally Trav would put his head on my shoulder and his feet on the dash, but not this time.
He’d taken the bottles and apples out of the bag and put Nugget into it. It must have done alright as a pouch, because the little guy was soon asleep.
And then we talked.
I admitted to bein’ scared, and thinkin’ that maybe we should have called the doc a long time before now. Travis thought the same. Cancer was such a hard-hittin’ word, and as soon as the doc said it, everything changed. I apologised again for not stopping once to ask if he was okay. His scared-as-hell face in my office reminded me that I wasn’t the only one anymore. I should have thought about him first, and I was sorry. I was so used to him bein’ the strong one, the one who held me together, that I just didn’t think.
Of course Travis laughed at that. He told me I was stronger than I gave myself credit for, and that I was doing the right thing—the very best thing—by dropping everything and going with Ma to the hospital.
“She must be so scared,” he said.
We did a little less talkin’ and a bit more hand-holdin’ after that.
* * * *
We decided it was probably a better idea to find a place to stay first, feed Nugget and get him all settled then we could head to the hospital and spend some uninterrupted time with Ma and George.
It was gettin’ on late afternoon, and it wasn’t strictly visiting hours yet. But the lady behind the desk must have taken pity on me, whether I looked nervous or something, but when I asked what ward Katie Brown was in, her answer damn near made me cry.
Oncology.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hospitals are just a disinfected kind of hell.
I hated hospitals. I hated the smell. The acrid scent of sickness, industrial disinfectants and horrible food burned in my nose and the back of my throat.
But most of all, I hated seeing Ma in the hospital bed. It confirmed everything that the doc had said—that she really was this sick. She looked so small and frail in the impersonal bed, and of all the things my Ma was, frail just didn’t fit.
But as bad as she looked, I think George looked worse. He was sitting beside the bed,
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