Free Crossing the Line by Dianne Bates Page B

look.
    ‘Hey there.’ He walks up behind where I sit alone and brooding, and leans over my shoulder, his face so close I can feel his breath on my neck.
    ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispers.
    If it was any other place, I would hug him, but, aware people are watching, I say nothing. Instead, I clench the tissue in my hand and hope I don’t start blubbering.
    Matt pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. ‘Hope you don’t mind me visiting. I was here before, when you first arrived – but they wouldn’t let me see you.’
    ‘I’m sorry. I probably couldn’t have seen anyone then.’
    ‘Not a problem. As long as you’re all right. You are, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes. I’m really good. Ready to go home.’
    He lays a bunch of flowers in my lap – a cheerful mix of reds and yellows and blues. No guy has ever given me flowers before. I mumble that they are beautiful.
    ‘Aw, Sophie.’ He takes my hand. ‘I’d give you flowers every day if it made you happy.’
    A part of me – my heart? my soul? – crumples like paper in a fire. I cover my face so he can’t see what he’s done to me.
    ‘It’s okay, Soph. Let it out.’
    Nurses and patients walk past, staring at this sobbing girl, but I ignore them.
    ‘I didn’t realise you were in such a bad way,’ he says. ‘I would have camped outside the damn door until you were up to seeing me.’
    ‘There was nothing you could have done.’
    ‘Yeah, there was. I could have stayed with you.’ He holds my hand even tighter.
    He stays with me until way past visiting hours. The nurses leave us alone – there’s not even a gentle hint. It’s so good to have news from beyond the hospital walls. And Matt is happy to do the talking while I soak it in.
    I discover that he and Amy have cleaned our house from top to bottom. ‘You’d never recognise the place!’
    And Amy has a new boyfriend – with dreadlocks and body piercings.
    ‘That’s why she hasn’t been in to see you,’ Matt explains. ‘She’s always out with this Johnny guy – but she will come visit soon. She misses you, same as I do. And old Persia misses you a real lot.’
    I nod. ‘Yeah, because I’m the one who never forgets to feed him.’
    ‘True,’ Matt says. ‘He’s a smart pussycat, Persia.’
    Not once does he ask what I’m doing in this place. I’m so grateful.
    Then he comes out with the most surprising news of all.
    ‘Greta rang.’
    ‘What did you tell her?’
    ‘That you were in hospital.’
    ‘Oh . . . did she say anything?’
    ‘Only that she hopes you’re well soon. And she sent her love.’
    Tears well up in my eyes again. I was so sure that Greta would not want anything to do with me, not after she’d found out I was cutting myself.
    Matt touches my cheek. ‘Tell me true. You okay?’
    I take his hand and kiss it. It’s not a sexual thing. It’s me telling him all the things I can’t find words for.
    ‘Yes,’ I mutter. ‘I’m okay.’
    When he leaves, I keep a picture of him in my mind for a long while after. It’s so good to know I’m not completely alone.

    A week later and colours are brighter. Things don’t seem all leached out now, and though I continue to feel sluggish, I have more energy. Helen asks if I’m feeling better and I nod. It’s the first time in days that I have responded to her in any way.
    ‘That’s good, Sophie,’ she tells me. ‘I’m pleased.’
    I want to look at her, but I feel . . . I don’t know what, shy isn’t really the right word; stubborn maybe. If I look at her, I might be compelled to talk. And talking with a shrink is the last thing I want to do after what Noel did to me. I thought I’d never forgive him for putting me in this hole, but I have to admit things are improving.
    Actually, I rather like the daily ward routine and being left alone for most of the time. I’ve started writing again, mostly poems. Every day after Group we have what they call Practical English with Mr Pettigrew. All the other adults around