THE INTERSECTION

Helena had to remind herself to breathe as she turned sharply onto the A&E ward, the sound of heels clicking refracted obtrusively as she went. Her eyes patrolled the open space like a hawk in search of the reception, her fast feet fuelled by a desire for answers. A warm bead of sweat was now creeping onto her brow, unmasking her professional façade and revealing the extent of her fear. She had kept calm until approximately three minutes ago when her taxi reached the entrance to the hospital but now was not the time for pride. She could feel the twisting of anxiety deep in her stomach, the promise of tears in her eyes.

“Hi! I got a call about 15 minutes ago. My son is here.” she half-shouted as she reached the reception desk, the words flying from her mouth as if they had been trapped behind the prison bars of her teeth for years.

“What is his name, dear?” the receptionist nodded, unscathed by the panicked tone she was faced with.

“Harry Grant. He’s 14. Dark, curly hair. About this high. They said something about a driving accident at the Maynard intersection. I’m his mother, Helena” 

Superhuman tapping ensued on the keyboard behind the counter. A brief pause.

“Yep, okay. If you could take a seat over there and someone will be with you as soon as possible. Help yourself to water” came the reassuring voice, accompanied by a kind smile and a gloved hand wafting towards the other side of the wide bright room.

Helena thanked her, the fear still firm and heavy on her chest. She walked towards the waiting area, now making a conscious effort to breathe: in and out, in and out. The environment didn’t really cater to her desire for calm, she thought, the constant traffic of staff and equipment felt threatening and caused her body to tense. At once, her mind shifted to real traffic. The real threat of petrol-powered killing machines. Her breathing halted at the thought of Harry.

Helena swept away the bead of sweat on her brow with her blazer sleeve, desperate to remain in control of the situation. She sat down and let out a small grunt, the uncomfortable warmth of the padded blue seat made her cringe and a familiar wave anxiety churned again in her stomach.

She had been there less than ten minutes when another woman appeared at the reception. The stranger was loud and visibly upset, her frail hands covering her face and her body shaking. A nurse rushed to her side with a cup of water, rubbing her back gently. They spoke for a minute, the receptionist glancing towards Helena several times. She was being guided towards the waiting area now, only a few seats away from Helena who was weirdly glad of the distraction.

The stranger perched warily on the seat nearby, like a baby bird on the edge of a branch. She turned slowly to Helena and contorted her face into a tiny smile. Though Helena suspected this woman was less than forty years old, there was an exhaustion buried in her face that aged her drastically. She was quite beautiful, Helena thought, admiring the softly cut raven locks that framed her face and curled into a loose single plait down one side of her body. The stranger stood up and moved across two seats so that she was mere inches from Helena.

“I’m sorry about the racket” she whispered, her voice surprising calm now as she met Helena’s eyes. “My name is June.” she held out her hand, each slim finger adorned with dulled silver rings.

Helena took it and replied, “Helena” and they shared a moment of silence. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” she said, mustering her most sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that. Thank you though.” was June’s reply, the sadness etched into her face most prominent in her dark eyes that now brimmed with tears. “It’s just been a really long day. I didn’t think it would end up here.” Her voice was shaking.

She let out a deep sigh and leant forward in the chair, her palms cupping her face as she quietly cried.

“I understand. It’s a strange and unfamiliar environment, you’re bound feel distressed.” Helena whispered, meaning her words but immediately worried she was sounding too much like her work persona. She corrected herself. “I didn’t think I’d be here either. But when do you ever predict that you’d be sitting in A&E on a Wednesday night crying with a stranger?” she let out a small laugh- the first time she’d laughed all day.

June sat up, sniffling, her face slightly damp and blotchy. Helena handed her a tissue.

“This place isn’t strange or familiar,” she started, an irritation detectable in her voice, much to Helena’s quiet discomfort. She shuffled slightly in her chair.

“Sorry. What I mean is. I’m here way too often. Picking up my stupid husband” the shaking in her voice was clear again.

“I see. Is he a drinker?” Helena asked, picturing a red-faced lout. She knew the type all too well. They were the most frequent visitors to her marriage counselling sessions.

June nodded in disbelief. “The worst kind. Loves to pick a fight. Always convinced he has something to be riled up about. It’s exhausting”. Her head flopped into her palms again with a heavy sigh.

“I know I’ve only just met you and I hate to pry but it sounds like you can do better.” Helena said, turning to face June, half expecting her to be defensive.

“You’re right.” she replied- the only words that she had said so far with strength and conviction. “I need to leave him. He’s gone too far this time.” June sank her head, her tone was almost apologetic.

“What is he in for tonight?” Helena asked, waiting to hear the usual story of a bar fight or unnecessary aggression. Her heart sank as she watched June’s face, the fragility creeping back into her disposition, a fog of shame surrounding her.

She spoke in the tiniest voice.

“Drink driving”

Helena was silent. Winded. She felt as though she had been punched in the gut. The silence they sat in this time was not as comfortable. It was thick and heavy; Helena thought was going to faint. For a moment, she had been distracted from the reason she was even at the hospital, but those two words had brought her right back. She took a deep breath and attempted to compose herself, though there was a ferocious gravity weighing on her chest, urging her to scream or cry or something.

“We had an argument when I got home from work. He left with his whisky.” June elaborated, noting with confusion Helena’s expressionless face.

“Do you know what happened?” Helena replied in a cold, near monotonous voice, finding the courage to question what she had already worked out to be true.

“I only know what the ambulance told me. He crashed at the Maynard intersection” June was worried now. Upon hearing this, Helena had turned an unnatural shade of grey and her hands were gripping the chair so tightly it looked as though the skin on her knuckles would tear.

Breaking the silence like a pin to a balloon, a doctor emerged from the corridor, his eyes scanning the waiting room before landing on Helena and June.

“Is there a Nellie Grant in here?” he said, nervously tapping on his clipboard.

Helena waved her hand, nodded and stood up quickly. She gave June a small, consoling smile and proceeded to follow the doctor towards the ward.

“Hi, Miss Grant, I’m Doctor Prasad, I’ve been monitoring your son since he came in. I trust you are aware of the situation.” the doctor started, as they entered a quiet area of the hospital, where most patients were shielded behind large blue curtains. It made Helena unsteady.

“We’ve handled the major areas of concern and he is in stable condition. Harry will be okay”

With this, he pulled back the curtain of the final enclosed area on the ward to reveal her son lying awkwardly on the hospital bed. His eyes were closed but looking closing she could see his chest was expanding in short, quick breaths. There was a makeshift cast around his left leg and a sling about his shoulder. Pools of purple bruising like clumsy tie dye marked masses of bare skin but his face was untouched.

Doctor Prasad looked towards Helena to see she was crying, the sleeve of her blazer now soaked. He passed her a paper towel from a nearby dispenser and smiled reassuringly. She smiled back, the weight of dread lifted considerably as she walked towards Harry.

“It’s important to note that your son is very lucky. Like I said, with time and rest he will make a fully recovery, but these kind of incidents all too often end in fatalities”

Helena’s face contorted into a dark frown. “By these kind of incidents, do you mean drink driving? Is that what caused this?” she felt a surge of anger rising in her throat as relief curdled into bitterness. “Who is responsible?” she spat, standing up.

“The driver has been detained, Miss Grant, and he is receiving treatment for a serious head injury. I’m afraid I can’t disclose any more than that at this moment, but I promise it will be dealt with” his voice was firm but calming. Helena was suddenly aware of how tense her body was and relaxed slightly, making the decision to trust him.

“I need to do something” she said quietly, staring quickly at the doctor and then at Harry. She breathed in sync with him and relished this moment of reassurance. “I’ll be back”

Helena walked out of the ward and straight back towards the waiting room, ignoring the confused looks of the nurses and rejecting their attempts at polite conversation.

She was glad to see that June was still there. Sitting alone, her head slumped against the wall as she stared at her phone screen, it’s harsh white light illuminating the bags under her eyes.

“June” Helena said as she made her way over to her, watching as she sat up in her chair with a surprised smile. June’s face dropped as she noted Helena’s tear stained face.

“Is everything okay?” she said, her voice panicked.

“It will be” Helena responded, taking June’s hand and squeezing it gently. “I need you to do something for me.” her eyes were brimming with tears again.

“Of course, anything! Talk to me!” she responded, gripping her new friend’s hands.

“Leave your husband”