"If you touch me again, I'll have you charged with assault."
I spoke in a neutral tone, but I was serious. The middle-aged nurse stood in front of me, her eyes pained. "But, Ms Moore, we really need to get you down to the emergency ward."
I shifted away from her, and resumed my vigil staring through the window of the hospital room where they'd placed Heather. "No. Leave. I'm not going anywhere."
She fluttered anxiously and shot a glance at the orderly next to her, unsure of what to do with their handfuls of gauze and disinfectant. The corridor was quiet; they'd obviously taken care to keep Heather somewhere away from the main population of the hospital, assuming that I'd go to the ER. The fact that I hadn't was freaking everyone out.
I drew myself up against the wall, defiant. I couldn't quite stand on my own and I couldn't stop the shaking of my limbs - or the blood pooling around my feet. I couldn't convince the staff to allow me to wait in the room because I wasn't family. I couldn't change the fact that the most beautiful and vibrant woman I'd ever had the honour of knowing was lying dead five feet from where I stood. But I could control one thing; I wouldn't leave her until Andie arrived.
In a haze, I focused on the form covered by a sheet on the bed. I might have been acting fierce, but I was in pieces. Shock protected me like a bubble, trying to persuade my brain that everything since we'd left Kaivalya had been a mistake, a typo, and any minute now I'd open my eyes and find myself at the airport, hugging Heather and waving her onto a plane.
Not this. This is too horrible to be real. Scalding guilt ran through me, more agonising than the dull ache in my shoulder or the searing along my cheek. I dug my fingertips into the window sill, noticing absently how they were still coated in Heather's blood; I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to wash my hands again without seeing them streaked in the scarlet stains, such a close colour to her hair.
Something fresh and wet touched my chest and I glanced down to see tears dripping onto my filthy cleavage. I hadn't even realised I was crying. Blocking out everything, I laid my bleeding head on the window, leaving a smear on the glass.
It could have been five minutes or an hour later; a warm hand closed over my icy one. A voice spoke, strong, but filled with loving anxiety. "Evianna."
"I'm not leaving her, Matt." I didn't turn to look at him, indifferent to the fact that he'd come. I was beyond any comfort; whether I stood there alone or stood there with a team of supporters, it made no difference.
"Evianna, the doctors are worried about you." He moved in front of me, trying to capture my eyes. "They think your collarbone is broken, and you need a CT for your head in case you've got swelling or bleeding in your brain."
"I don't care."
I expected him to pull a typical macho move, forcing me to submit to care, perhaps even bodily moving me. I didn't expect his gentle touch on my cheek and empathetic tone. "I know you want to wait for Andie. I'll wait with you, right here. But will you let them at least stitch the cut on your face closed? We can bring a bed over, you don't have to move."
I might have held out longer if my legs hadn't given way; they buckled under me, as if they wanted the support. Matt caught me, pressing the line of his body forward to brace mine as it toppled back. "I've got you, Evianna. I'm right here."
And with his words echoing mine to Heather, I broke. I wept, collapsing heavily, and he held me as swift hands moved a bed behind us and I was gently laid to the starchy hospital sheets.
The staff hovered around me like ghosts, silent and white. The tears continued to flow, like my body was trying to purge itself of the black grief, only as much as I forced out, more was being produced. Matt knelt beside me, holding my hand and murmuring comfort, but I was barely aware of any of it.
Someone inserted an IV, cool washers were wiped over my face. A needle full of anaesthetic pierced the skin of my face, and I wanted to tell them not to bother. Bring the pain. It had to feel better that what was happening inside me.
They stitched and cleaned and muttered. Someone said to Matt, "Mr Knight, we really should consider getting her down to CT for her skull, and have that shoulder X-rayed straight after."
"Not yet. Unless she says otherwise, she going to stay here."
When they'd done as much as they could, I sat up on the wheeled bed, flinching and crying out as something grated inside my shoulder. Matt instantly moved beside me, leaning into me and helping me stay upright. "Here we go, Evianna. Keep breathing."
Wave after wave of pain rolled downwards from my collarbone, spiralling around my chest and stealing my breath. Gasping, I curled forward and a second blow of agony slammed into my skull, my bruised brain pulsing painfully.
Matt held me, a silent sentinel, giving me the strength to follow through and do what I needed to.
I ground my teeth together. Heather is dead. Your pain means nothing. For another age, I sat wobbling on the narrow bed, drawing on every ounce of willpower I'd discovered inside myself to help keep me upright.
Voices from the end of the hall. Three figures appeared; a doctor, a plain-clothed policewoman, and Andie. Uncontrollable shakes coursed through my traumatised body as I staggered to my feet to meet them.
As they drew closer, I looked at the soul mate of my friend. It was as if Andie had been etched in charcoal; her every line was tension. Her jaw was clenched, her brow set, the sinews of her arms corded against her skin. I didn't try to greet her, but I was infinitely glad she was there; she knew Heather and loved Heather, and having her there was like seeing a small piece of Heather still alive.
Andie didn't acknowledge me as she turned to the doctor and said, "Where is she?"
"Just in here, Ms Holt. Take as long as you need."
"Good." With an iron-like demeanour, she entered the room and approached the bed. The rest of us watched; we seemed to have moved past the societal norms of privacy.
The first thing Andie did was flip back the sheet from Heather's face. The nurses has cleaned her up, and she looked beautiful but empty, like an ornate vase with no flowers. Andie nodded crisply, then moved away from her head, down to the far end of the bed.
Reaching under the cover, she found Heather's feet, and began to rub them slowly, her face stoic. Mine crumpled as I recalled a memory; Heather telling me how Andie wasn't physically very affectionate, but her way of showing Heather love was a foot massage in front of the TV most nights.
They'd never sit together on the couch again. I began to pant in anguish, wondering if Andie regretted not showering Heather with more affection while she had the chance, wondering what else she might have changed about their time together.
A final squeeze of Heather's toes, and Andie re-covered both her hands and her feet. She emerged from the room and spoke in a constricted tone. "I can confirm, that is my partner, Heather Athru."
"Thank you, Ms Holt." The doctor and the officer entered the room and began to look over reams of paperwork.
"Matt, give me some space, please," I said, not glancing back to where he stood behind me, his arm curled defensively across my waist.
Reluctantly, he said, "I'll be just down the hall."
And there we stood, Andie and I, alone, with the gaping wound of Heather stretching between us. Andie stared at me, her gaze impassive.
I spoke first. "Andie... I am so sorry."
It wasn't enough. The words were so insignificant compared to the enormity of what we faced, and I felt it immediately.
Andie cocked her head. "Do you know what this world needs? People like Heather. Generous, selfless, loving, dedicated people who try their hardest to make this planet a better place."
She took a single step towards me. "Do you know what this world doesn't need?" she said, her voice low with menace. "Self-absorbed, petty, shallow TV hosts, whose only thoughts are of their own waistlines and tragic love-lives."
"Andie-"
"It should have been you," she said viciously. "You should have died. No one would have cared. You would have been a blip, a filler piece on the news, then the world would have moved on and there would have been no great loss.
"Heather had friends, family, people she helped, me..." Emotion surged up, breaking through the steely demeanour she'd built around herself. "And a baby on the way."
Oh, God... The biggest moral dilemma I'd ever been presented was staring me in the face, and I was too emotionally decimated to consider it properly. Would Andie feel better knowing that Heather hadn't been pregnant, or was it comforting for her to believe that Heather had been carrying their child?
"She probably didn't even tell you she was pregnant, did she? Because that's just the kind of human being she was, unlike you with all your endless bitching about being fat and alone." Andie was seething, every drop of her pain converted to ire and directed at me. "People like you disgust me. You float through this life, convinced you're hardly done by, and you don't even realise there are bigger battles being fought, or worse things that could happen."
It was true, and I couldn't deny it. I'd spent almost every minute of my time with Heather being self-absorbed, and the truth was, my life was actually good. I was healthy, despite how I treated my body, I had a job I loved, a great place to live, a family who loved me. I was incredibly fortunate, even if I hadn't been able to recognise it.
"You are responsible for the death of Heather and my baby," said Andie, cutting through my inner dialogue. "There won't be a day for the rest of my life that I don't wish you misery and guilt."
Heather's quiet voice echoed through the open part of my spirit. You have to tell her. She needs to know.
"Andie..." I didn't want to be the one to say it, but there wasn't anyone else. "Heather was going to tell you in person when she got home. She wasn't pregnant. The insemination didn't take." I reached for her hand. "I'm so sorry."
Like a glass figurine, Andie was motionless for a long second, then she said softly, "Do you think that makes a difference? Do you think because she wasn't pregnant, you're somehow more worthy of still being alive? You. Are. Wrong."
On her last word, something broke inside Andie. She screamed, an inhuman cry that reverberated down the empty corridor, and then she lit into me, striking, tearing, punching.
"It should have been you!" she shrieked as her fists landed on my damaged face and broken body. "It should have been you! It's your fault! You did this!"
I didn't defend myself. I knew I'd earned every blow, every scratch and every new hurt. I closed my eyes and kept my arms by my side, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," as my tears mingled with the blood from the reopened gash on my face.
"Hey! Hey!" Matt came sprinting up, pulling me out of her reach. Simultaneously, the door to Heather's room burst open and the female officer ran to Andie, restraining her gently.
"Ms Holt, please, let's go this way."
"She did this!" Andie screamed wretchedly, still clawing towards me, inhuman in her grief. "She did this! It should have been you!"
Her voice echoed as the officer and the doctor ushered Andie away. Matt held me inside his arms. "God, Evianna, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you, I should have realised she would have been over the edge. Your poor face."
He tried to touch my cheek, but I shied away. "It doesn't matter," I said. "I deserved it."
"What?" Matt pressed me back onto the bed as the medical staff returned, ready to wheel me away. He brushed my matted hair from my forehead. "She didn't mean it, Evianna. She's just grieving. It isn't true."
I rolled away from him. But it is true. Every word.
***
Three days later, I sat down in a chair next to a hospital bed in Sydney.
Taylor looked over at me, propped up in bed and covered from the waist north in bandages, like an adorable blonde mummy. Even only a day after a double mastectomy and reconstruction, she still looked pretty and fresh.
Her eyes absorbed my wounded shoulder, which was bandaged and held in a sling from the surgery I'd needed to realign and screw my fractured collarbone back together, and the massive plaster over the gash on my cheek. There were also scratches and bruises over my face and arms from Andie's attack, and a thousand smaller cuts on my palms and knees caused by broken glass.
Bless her, she tried. "Oh, Evi. You look really... Um..." Giving up rather than lie, she simply said, "I'm sorry."
I gestured to her chest. "I'm sorry, too."
"Oh, I'll be fine," she said blithely. "I was supposed to start Chemo next week, but they're confident they got everything, so we're going to wait and see for now. And Dr Blake said he's really happy with how the reconstruction went; they should look even better than the originals, apparently!"
Her face glowed as she spoke about the Gold Coast surgeon, who I'd found out had flown down especially to operate on Taylor. I guessed at a deeper connection there than the average doctor-patient relationship. "That's good."
"Evi... Matt said you checked yourself out of hospital early, and you won't let anyone look in on you." She reached for my hand. "I'm worried."
I didn't draw back, but I didn't respond either. Silence seemed far easier than trying to justify my behaviour. I didn't want the care and sympathy I'd received in hospital; the second I'd awoken from surgery, I'd forced them to give me an AMA form and let me go.
I couldn't fly so soon after a general anaesthetic, but Matt hired a car and he drove us the nine hours back to Sydney. I spent most of the journey in a pain-killer haze, attempting to sleep and forget that so much hurt could exist inside my soul.
When we reached my house, I ignored Matt and crawled into bed. He didn't leave. He'd slept on my couch, brought food every day, filled my prescriptions, organised for a cleaner, forced me to eat. He didn't try to engage me in conversations or push for anything beyond maintaining my physical health, and for that I was glad. My emotional state was a whole different matter.
But I'd wanted to see Taylor, even though peeling myself out of bed and getting in a cab was the equivalent of lifting a truck for a normal person. I tried to allay her fears. "Don't be worried. This is how I should feel. This is what I..."
"What you what?"
What I deserve. I shook my head. "Tell me about what Dr Blake said."
She sighed dreamily, instantly distracted. "He was so reassuring, you know? I've never met anyone before who could make me feel so comforted and hopeful. Like the universe is actually a good place. Those people are so hard to find."
"Yes," I said, the image of a gap-toothed, irrepressible smile dancing before me. "Yes, they are."
***
I pulled at the black material of my Amazing Curves high-waisted skirt. It had been snug only a few weeks before; now, on the steps outside a funeral parlour in inner-city Melbourne, it hung sack-like from my hips. Finally, Oprah, I've discovered the secret to weight loss; just lose your best friend in the most traumatic way possible and your appetite will fade away...
Matt spoke in my ear. "You look lovely, Evianna."
"I don't care," I said, pulling my black coat tight around me. "What does it matter how I look?" Irony. For so many years had I'd tried to convince myself that looks weren't important. Now, I finally understood what a freaking miniscule problem my belly fat was in the grand scheme of things.
"It doesn't matter," he answered, allowing his nearness to support me without trying to invade my space. "I just wanted you to know."
"Thanks." It was the most I could manage. I couldn't believe it was already time for the funeral, the official goodbye. It had been exactly a week, and it felt too soon.
Matt waved at a line of vehicles pulling up, with familiar faces emerging from inside. "They're here."
They'd all come: Jake and Joel, sombre and handsome in their suits, Shelly and Frog, in their own goth versions of formal wear, Dr Blake, supporting Taylor on his arm, and the crew from Fashion Week, Imogen, Elliot, Nicci, and Maria. Lastly, Joe, Patty and Eli walked forward. It was wildly strange to see them wearing clothes, like seeing a dog dressed in a tutu.
I didn't have the words to express what their presence meant. I'd been crying almost non-stop for a week - even when I was sleeping. Rather than try to force out clumsy words, I touched my fingers to my lips and gestured towards them all.
"We're here for you, Evi," said Shelley, mascara already tracking down her cheeks.
Taylor's face creased as she reached for my shoulder, wrapped in a black sling. "Whatever you need."
"Thanks so much, everybody," said Matt. "Let's go in."
There was a multitude making their way inside the building; so many famous faces, it felt like a celebrity gala rather than a funeral. The prime minister walked by, her features riddled with sorrow, among a throng of other major players from every walk of life.
As a group, we headed for the interior chapel. I'd already told Matt I wanted to sit at the back and stay as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't going to happen. A security guard stepped in front of us. "I'm sorry, Ms Moore, but I'm not allowed to let you in."
"What?" Jake and Joel immediately arced up. "What the hell, man? We have a right to be here!"
"The rest of you can go through. Just not her." The suited man had the grace to look genuinely apologetic. "I'm just following the directive from Ms Holt. Please, don't make a fuss; this is a place of mourning."
"What about Evianna's mourning?" said Matt, shaking his head. "Look, can you send Andie out here? I'm sure we can work something out."
Through the open chapel doors, I saw the woman in question, staring coldly at me. If she felt any remorse for the welts on my face that she'd inflicted, she didn't let it show. Instead, she coldly turned away to face the rose-wood coffin at the front.
"Don't bother," I said, my voice a resigned sigh. "I'll just go."
Spinning blindly, I pushed my way outside, the festering grief threatening to consume me. Gasping, I keeled over the railing of the stone steps, feeling my broken ribs spearing my insides from the heaving of my breath.
"Evianna," said Matt from behind me, his tone wrenched in agony at seeing my pain.
"Just go inside with the others, Matt. Tell me about it later."
"Nobody's going anywhere," said a serene voice. I turned to see Patty, speaking for the rest of the group who had all followed me outside. "Evi, the Royal Botanic Gardens are nearby; we thought we might say our own goodbye to Heather in the elements today. How does that sound?"
I looked from face to face, and saw no guilt, no blame, nothing but love. Overwhelmed, I found myself leaning on Matt's arm without even realising it. "I think Heather would have said that sounds awesome."
We slowly made our way to the nearby park, in no hurry. We weren't on any schedule besides our own, and I needed the time, still unready to say goodbye. The day was cloudy but warm, the air soft and quiet as we wandered the wide paths of the gardens.
As if our feet were led, we found ourselves at the banks of a lake, sheltered from the outside world by a fence of trees with glowing green leaves. We formed a loose circle, holding each other by the hand.
Matt kept one arm around my waist and asked, "Joe, would you mind saying a few words? Giving us some direction?"
"It would be my honour," the guru rumbled. His grey eyes were dark with sadness as he looked to the sky in contemplation. "We stand here today, strangers from across this wide brown land, united by the loss of a friend."
I could hear the Amazing Curves ladies already sniffing, and Shelley was hiccoughing into Frog's jacket. Joe continued. "This universe continually forces us to ask questions of ourselves. Who am I? What do I stand for? How do I spend my days? What lies afterwards?
"The most vibrant spirits always shine the brightest and when they leave us, it sees us questioning everything we've ever believed. Heather was a special being, who shone upon everyone who met her. She was wise beyond her years, generous in nature, and uniquely open to the world around her."
Taylor gave an audible sob, burying her face against Dr Blake. Jake and Joel had their arms around each other's shoulders, both of their faces showing tear tracks, while Eli's head was bowed and Patty patted his back in a motherly fashion.
"I won't tell you not to cry. Loss is as much a part of this world as joy, and there is a time for grief during every life. Allow yourselves to feel." He smiled gently. "But remember the moments that made you smile, too."
I didn't lean on Matt, but I allowed him to hold me as I wept silently and searched for a mental photograph, something to give me a moment of peace. I settled on an image of Heather, sitting on the deck in Darwin, the setting sun catching her glowing hair while she laughed.
One by one, everybody in the circle stepped forward to say something about Heather, even Matt, who'd never actually met her. When my turn came, I turned my face upwards, as if I could stem the endless flow of tears by gravity.
"I started this journey with Heather not even two months ago." A strange, bitter laugh escaped me. "It's so wrong, when I say it out loud, that it was only seven weeks ago that I met her. But time passes differently when you're spending every day with a person, when you share everything with them and they discover all your secrets, even the ones you didn't realise you had..."
My lip quivered, contorting my words. "But she was my best friend, my mentor, my shining light. I don't even want to ask the universe any more questions if there is an answer that makes sense of something like losing Heather. How is it fair? Why should someone full of life and light and goodness, with such a huge future and so much love around her, be taken away?
"There are some things that I will carry with me forever. Any time I see the colour red, I will think of her. Whenever I breathe deeply, she'll be waiting there for me at the bottom of my exhale, in the suspension of nothingness. If I ever manage to accomplish anything good in this world, it will be because of her legacy. And I will miss her every day. Every day."
I clutched my arms around my body, seeking comfort from within myself but it didn't emerge. As if someone recognised that I needed a little extra help, the sun suddenly broke through a gap in the clouds and bathed our little group in light. "Goodbye, Heather," I whispered.
Everybody crowded forward, a circle of grief and friendship, holding each other and sharing the pain. It didn't dissipate, but it was eased.
For hours afterwards, we sat on the grass by the water, sharing stories of our time with Heather and bonding with one another. Joel and Jake did a run to a local café, bringing back an assortment of gourmet sandwiches and bottled water, and the mood turned almost celebratory.
I wasn't ready to feel anything but loss, but I nodded and listened to the people around me, moved by their presence, that they'd travelled thousands of kilometres just to honour a woman they'd only known for a second.
When Joe wandered off to the shelter of the nearby trees, I slipped away and followed him.
"Did you know?" I asked.
He turned, his enlightened face benevolent. "Did I know she was going to pass? I caught a glimpse of transition for her, but it wasn't specific to death."
"Why didn't your warn her? Didn't you care about protecting her? Maybe she might have been more careful!" I wanted someone to blame, something to pin my guilt on that wasn't me. It didn't have to make sense.
"Evianna, I wish that I could prevent sorrow for everyone I meet, but it doesn't work that way." He reached up and plucked a white jasmine flower from the fragrant vine trailing over our heads. "From this very moment, all we have the ability to impact is our own direction moving forward. We cannot change what happened to Heather, any more than I can reattach this bloom to the vine."
He placed the flower in the twisted braid beside my ear. "But I can choose what to do with the final gift from the branch."
I have to mention at this point how overwhelmed I was with all your comments and support in the last chapter. As I said, I expected to cop abuse, death threats, pleading, swearing, etc, and you'll never guess how many nasty messages I actually received: two. Two out of over 700. The other comments were only of sorrow, understanding, and appreciation for the rest of the chapter. You guys are amazing - thank you so much for not only reading this story, but taking its message to heart and allowing it to change how you react to the world around you.
I understand that we've delved into some darker territory towards the back end of this book, but sometimes you have to travel through a bleak time before you can truly appreciate the light - for example, my readers in England will have a much more grateful attitude towards sunshine than I do, living in the tropics :) I hope I can make your heartache worthwhile, and that anything you might have learned along the way with Evi will stay with you, long after you forget all about the story line.
So the tale goes on - leave me a message if you'd like to share anything, or if you have any theories about how Evi might take Heather's memory and make it a positive legacy in the world. Please remember to vote - I know I'm blessed to have a higher than average vote/read rate, and that's because I have the best readers on Wattpad. Love you guys, happy weekend! Kate