Love Is for Losers Wibke Brueggemann (unputdownable books .TXT) 📖

put a sign up to say we’ll be shut today, and then I’m going to go over to the hospital. Can you text Emma to say not to come?

Me: Of course.

Kate: Do you want to come to the hospital?

Me: I don’t think I like hospitals.

Kate: I understand, hospitals are shit. Do you want me to text you with news?

Me (nodding):…

I sat in bed and waited for the front door to shut, and then, instead of texting Emma, I called her.

Emma (answering straightaway): Hi, Phoebe.

Me: Melanie had a stroke.

Emma: What?

Me: I know.

Emma: Oh my God.

Me: She’s at Kingston Hospital. Kate’s gone over, and Pat’s there, too. Kate said they don’t think she’ll live.

Emma: Oh my God.

Me: I know.

Emma: Are you going?

Me: I don’t like hospitals.

Emma: I don’t think anybody likes hospitals.

Me: We could get the bus.

When we met at the bus stop, Emma hugged me, and it wasn’t even awkward. Weird what bad news can do to people, I thought, and on the bus we talked about Bill and Melanie and how cool they are.

I texted Kate to say we were on our way, and she met us at the entrance.

When I was little, I had to go to the ER once, because I fell backwards off a rocking chair, bashed my head open, and needed stitches. I oddly can’t remember if it was Mum or Kate who took me at the time, but I remember being terrified because the lights were too bright, and everything was the opposite of comforting.

In the elevator, I saw that Emma was shaking like she was cold, and Kate went over and hugged her and rubbed her arms real fast, like to warm her up.

Kate: Is this where Bradley—

Emma: No.

Kate (hugging her again): You okay, pet?

Emma: Yes, sure. Thank you.

Kate: Because you don’t have to be here.

Emma: I want to be here.

Kate: All right.

Pat was sitting in the hallway outside Melanie’s room, and when she saw us, she was like: “How good of you both to come. It’s important to say goodbye.”

I was like: “I’m here to say hello,” but she just smiled that hideous smile she smiles when she wants you to know that she knows everything and you know nothing.

Emma asked straightaway if she could go into the room, and Pat went inside to ask Bill, and then two seconds later, she came back out and said it was okay.

Emma (to me): Do you want to come?

Me (shaking head):…

Emma: Okay. I’ll tell them you’re here.

I sat down opposite Pat, and Kate sat down next to me.

Kate: You’ve never seen anyone at this point, Phoebe, have you?

Me: At this point?

Kate: When they’re dying.

Me: She’s not dead.

Kate (taking my hand and looking straight at me): No. But she’s dying. We’re not sure how much damage happened to her brain, but she’s not conscious, and her kidneys are failing. If Bill decides to not put her on life support when the time comes, she will probably die later today, or maybe tomorrow.

Me: How do you know that? You don’t know that.

Kate (taking a deep breath in, and a long breath out): I’m sorry, Phoebe. But I know that.

Me: But she could recover.

Kate: The brain is a very complex organ. When so much of it dies, it is highly unlikely for a person to come back from it. Not all the way, not really.

I just sat there for, like, a thousand minutes, and then the door opened, and Emma came out, and I thought that I should really pull myself together, because if anyone had reason to feel a bit sick about it all, it was her. Well, and Pat. And Kate, I guess.

Kate: Are you okay, Emma?

Emma (nodding): She’s not in any pain.

Kate: No, she isn’t.

Me: How can you know that? Just because she isn’t saying anything doesn’t mean she isn’t in pain. She could be screaming on the inside.

Pat’s eyes literally rolled out of her head, and I swear she would have said something if Kate hadn’t beaten her to it.

Kate: No, Phoebe, we know. Okay? I can tell you right now that Melanie is currently not in pain. And if you insist on the stone-cold truth, I will give you that, too.

Me: Please.

Kate: This isn’t about Melanie. She’s not really here anymore. She probably doesn’t know Bill or Pat, or Emma, or anyone anymore. This is about us now. It’s about whether we want to be with her body as it stops functioning. Do you understand? The Melanie we knew is already gone.

At the end of the speech, Pat was sobbing, and Emma was crying, but she wasn’t making any noise. It was as if tears were just flowing out of her eyes while she got on with life.

I mumbled something about not wanting to be there, got up, and left.

I walked out of the sterile hospital into the hot June afternoon, and I stood in the car park for a minute, and I swear I couldn’t remember how I even got there.

I sent Kate a text to say that I was taking the bus home, and when I got there, all I could think about was that I probably should study for next week’s science extravaganza, but I didn’t.

I didn’t even make it upstairs.

I just played with the designer and half-designer kittens in the front room, and when they got bored and wanted their mums, I just lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

James came in around midday, and he was like: “Hey, Phoebe, what’s up? Where’s Kate? She’s not answering her phone.”

Me: Melanie’s in the hospital, and she’s dying, but I left.

James: I’m sorry, what?

Me: Melanie had a stroke, and everyone’s at the hospital, but Kate said that she’s basically dead already, so I left because what’s the point?

James (looking at me like I hadn’t been speaking in English): That was a lot of information about a lot of things in just one sentence.

Me: Keep up.

James: I’m going to try calling Kate again.

I held up my phone for him to