The Fate of Brunson
She returned him to Evelyn, much as one would return a pair of shoes that pinched or a lipstick shade that didnt suit. No, it was even less dignified than that. A tube of mascara doesnt care on which dressing table it lies; boots are indifferent to whose feet trudge through the autumn mud.
But it did matter to Simon. To Simon, it was utterly humiliating.
It was undignified to be wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, nodding helplessly at every question. Yes, now he was as helpless as driftwood Yes, he hadn’t lived up to expectations Yes, what about work?… Yes, how to earn a living now
Yes, yes, and yes
The word seemed to scratch at him, and Simon wanted to shout it so loudly that the whole ward would know he was being taken back to his ex-wife. Handed over like a lost child, deposited on the doorstep like an unwanted kitten or a babe born out of season.
Lizzie, come on now! They said I just need to give it time, Ill be back on my feet! Things will sort themselves out, silly girl You always work yourself up Thats what he told her two weeks earlier when Elizabeth came to visit, tearful, asking the nurse with trembling lips where to find Simon Brunson. A nurse changing the bedpan in the ward nodded toward a cot by the sink.
Elizabeth swallowed, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fixed a smile, and approached quietly.
He was asleep. His body ached with that raw, feverish pain, a jab in his arm leaving him heavy and numb, sometimes waking, sometimes slipping again into that gentle, dark oblivion. Warm was the important part. For so long, he’d been so cold.
Hed been racing home from Elizabeths parents house on his old Triumph, full of bravado and joy, the wind stinging against his shoulders, the morning light playing on the retreating tarmac. And thensomething slipped, something caught beneath the tyre, and the motorbike veered off the road, twisting Simon in the process, slamming his head. Everything rang, images flickered
…Here was Evelyn, hair tied up with ribbons, dressed smartly for the leaving ceremony at school. She spun and laughed with her friend Lizzie, clinging handsthey had their whole grown-up lives ahead, how marvellous! Simon brought ice creams; they both kissed his cheeks and tore open the wrappers. Evelyn liked chocolate, Lizzie vanilla. And Simon, as ever, gave out the wrong one.
Simon, you must pay more attention! Youre going to be a barrister, arent you? Lizzie mimicked Miss Burns, their old geography teachera woman whose fondness for Simon was grandmotherly even though they were no kin.
Sorry, Lizz. Simon grinned, bursting with energy, bounding for the climbing bar to show off a few pull-ups and then a flourish.
The girls watched; Lizzie with admiration, but Evelyns look was sober, almost stern.
Why did you look at me like that? Simon asked her that evening, as they walked along the high street toward her house.
Like what?
That
I just cant stand showing off, Evelyn shrugged, about to say more, but he silenced her with a kiss
Simon woke again. Fluorescent lights glared from the ceiling; people in blue uniforms bustled about.
Hold on, love, nearly done. Itll sting a bit, that happens murmured a gentle voice.
Simon shifted his head slightly. The young man in the bed beside had been pieced back together, bone by bone, visited by an old woman, possibly not even a relation. The lad had been recovering, even managed to laugh, but something had gone awry in the nightnow he was pale as parchment, lips nearly blue.
Brunson turned away. He shut his eyes, afraid to watch.
Why dont they use curtains? In the films, these patients are always shielded with curtains! his mind spun, breathless. He listened as they wheeled the young man away, rattling down the corridor. Hang on in there, mate
No answer. Simon slipped into sleep again.
…Evelyn. She stood in a long, echoing corridor, the hospitals maternity wing, of all things.
Im pregnant, Simon! she said, yet not with any joy.
Thats wonderful news! Isnt that what we wanted? He beamed, trying to embrace her.
Theyd married four months ago, waited for the summer, taken cheap flights to the Cornish coast, where Evelyn had suddenly taken ill. It was blamed on a change of air.
But then shed seen a doctor
Simon, the babys not alive Dont touch me. Didnt you hear me? He isnt alive! She stood there, huge windowsills lined with potted chrysanthemums; mothers-to-be with round bellies drifting past, watching the arguing couple with discreet curiosity.
What do you mean, not alive? Evelyn, mistakes happen! Its so small still! Ultrasounds are all a nonsense. Lets see Dr Murray, she offered to help. Come on, lets go! Simon was dogged now, refusing to surrender to despairhis wife would not be denied.
Lizzie Murray was an office manager at a private surgery, well-liked by everyone there, though lately she hardly saw the others. Perhaps shed taken it hard that Simon had chosen Evelyn, not herbut shed never been promised anything.
The Brunsons? Well, what a surprise… Lizzie twirled a pen, smiling thinly. What brings you here?
Dont, Lizzie. I explained everything, Simon slid his card over the counter. Help us, please… Evelyn, have a seat.
Evelyn hesitated, eyes locked on Lizzie, realising her fate now lay in this other womans hands.
Lizzie picked up the phone, dialled a few numbers. Dr Bryant? Yes, theyre here. Shall I send them in? Right you are! Third room on the left, the doctors expecting you, she said in her brisk manner.
Dr Bryant was a fine specialista good man. He saw Evelyn three more times to be certain.
These things happen, he said kindly. Dont be too upset. Sometimes the body recognises somethings amiss and takes care of it on its own. You two are healthy, Im sure it will happen for you. Evelyn, please try not to worry. My own wife was inconsolable, lost weight, and then when wed all but given upshe was expecting! Weve two strapping young hooligans now, so take heart.
Evelyn wiped her stomach with tissues, zipped up her jeans, and left. She understood.
It was then that things chilled between them. It was then, truly. Simon kept saying it was nothing, but Evelyn wept and accused him of never understanding, dragged him to specialists, forced endless tests on both of them. Three failed pregnancies. Three. They were finally told to take a break, to reflect, to distract themselves.
How can you distract yourself from this? What nonsense! We must look for answers, Simon! We want children! We do, dont we? Remember?
He remembered that Evelyn had wanted themwanted children badly, and quickly. Hed nodded along; to his mind, children were a natural progression, a simple thing, why all the fuss?
One day, after another futile appointment, he stormed out, leaving Evelyn crying into her tea, hands crumpling yet another bleak doctor’s report.
Where are you going? she whispered.
To get some air. You go home. Ill catch the tube, he muttered, grabbing his coat.
Simon
Oh, come off it! he snapped and slammed the café door behind him.
Fate, as it happens, had Lizzie there with him in the crowded Underground carriagedressed up, fragrant, carrying a bouquet, and already a little tipsy. They talked. He told her how Evelyn wouldnt snap out of it, how he was fed up.
Ive given so many cells for all these tests, we could have raised a dozen kids by now! he joked, with a sad smile. For all I know, there are hundreds of tiny Brunsons running about somewhere, thanks to those clinics.
She giggled. Poor thing Lizzie whispered, tracing a finger along his cheek. You do need a bit of distraction, love. You know… Evelyn never told you, did she? Remember when she missed a full month of school in year ten? That was forwell, for this very reason. She was in hospital. She nearly lost the chance altogether, nothing she could do She never warned you. Playing you for a fool, really.
Simon stopped dead in his tracks, Lizzie stumbling into him, roses pressed against his chest.
Rubbish! he snapped. Shed have told me!
Whatever for? Youre a decent sort, youd want a proper family Shes just not capable, thats the truth. Theres nothing for it, Lizzie continued, cheerfully. Come on, lets go back to mine. Well have some tea, perhaps a nip of whiskey. CelebrateI got a promotion!
Simon barely remembered the rest: how he drank, how he ended up there
He recalled, vaguely, his wedding night with Evelynhow she had been shy, and he had lost his senses. The way they had dreamed of children, of names, simple and sweet.
After that debacle, everything sped up for Simon. He stopped trying. He argued with his wife, stopped accompanying her to clinics, snapped at herYou sort yourself out, leave me be. Im healthy as a horse! He stormed out. Straight to Lizzies.
He almost convinced himself hed rushed into marriage, overlooked Lizzie. Life with her was effortless, a carnivalromantic evenings, larking about, weekends away, playful nonsense
He and Evelyn divorced a year later. The subterfuge became impossible to hide, and Lizzie threatened to leave him if he didnt choose.
If there are no children, its straight through the registry office, explained the woman on the phone. Do you have any under-age children?
No. Thank you, I understand. Evelyn hung up.
So, no childreneasy to separate. Children, their absence, and their longing had destroyed Evelyns life. She would have to start overcoming home to an empty flat, passing her weekends. It happens. You get by, as her father always used to say.
Her parents lived nearby; she could move back in. Although shed rather notshed only be pitied.
Simon woke again. Morning, porridge, and tea with lemon wafting through the air. He didn’t want any; no appetite, nor strength.
Is someone coming to help you eat? a voice asked by his ear.
He opened his eyes. It was a woman in thick glasses, soft wrinkles radiating from her gentle blue eyes.
I think his wife visits. Leave him, shell sort his food, muttered someone behind the buffet trolley.
Right, so leave it. Mark Brunson as served, Nance. Come on now. Get well, boys! she called, wheeling away the trolley.
Lizzie wasnt his wife. Theyd never married.
She arrived an hour later, hiding her nose in her blouse collar, her face sour.
Feed him! Its cold now, I suppose. Or did you bring your own? a nurse cut into their reunion.
Ill feed him, Lizzie said, lifting the lid. She sniffed, swallowed. Right, you need to eat, Simon. Awful stuff, I know, but it’s all I’ve got. I was at the McGregors last nighta birthday. Remember Lucy and Stanley? They send you their regards! Oh, Simon, I am so tired, I could sleep for a week! Mind your mouthwhat? Feel sick? Ugh. Just a moment!
Lizzie almost leapt up, wiped her hands on her hospital-provided gown, darted out.
My husbands sick! Can somebody clear this up? Honestly, what a state! Simon heard her shouting, eyes closing in shame. Lizzie didn’t hold back, cursing the food, the hospital, the doctors
She didnt come the next day or the day after. Finally, she appeared.
Been to see the consultant, she announced.
And?
Nothing good. Blast that wretched motorcycle! Why on earth did you buy it? Now theres rehab and itll cost a fortunenothings fast unless you pay. What I needwhat we needis for you to get back to normal strong! Right, I brought you some things
She didnt stoop to kiss himjust dumped the oranges and water on his table, sat by the window in silence.
Lizzie Simon murmured, stretching a hand to stroke her knee. She shook her head. Come on, love. Well get through this. Dont be sad. Yes, I was an ass. The bike was a mad ideabut you liked it at the time! Forget it then. Or has something happened? Trouble at work? I keep saying you should take a break. You need a holiday. I’ll be out soon and then well”
And then Ill take you to Evelyns. Then Ill take my holiday and fly to the seaside, she cut him off. We cant talk properly here, not with all these people about. Dont make a scene, Simon! Bedpans and tears and youlike this I cant. I just cant. Ill explain it all laterwhen theres privacy.
Trouble, eh muttered the older man sharing Simons ward, injured in a scaffolding fall. Sorry, Miss, wed leave you to it, if we could
Lizzies nose wrinkled as she noticed the mans catheter. She seemed disgusted by all of itthe hospital smells, the unwashed bodies, the clatter of trolleys, the beige walls.
Simon had been in the hospital so long it seemed hed never leavethree weeks, most of it in the public ward after a stint in intensive care.
Lizzie, after these visits, would hurry home, throw her clothes to the floor, and take too-long showers, scrubbing herself, and drenching herself in perfume. Still, the hospital stench seemed to linger in her hair and nose. Dreadful.
But worse than anything was seeing Simon so weaklegs nearly lifeless, face pallid, dependent on help for every little thing. He needed to be washed, medicated, have injections as the doctor explained.
Hed once been such a dashing man! Not long ago, really. Lizzie had been proud to steal him away from Evelyn, the plain one.
She wouldnt ask whether Evelyn would take Simon back. Just leave him at Evelyns flat. More merciful than leaving him alone in his own place.
There were the elder Brunsons, but Simons mother had her heart, his father his ulcer. They visited, then went home clutching their heart tablets. Itd be cruel to burden them.
The wheelchair barely fit in the lift. Handy, thank goodness, that the council had put in a ramp at Evelyns block only a few months earlier.
As if they knew! Lizzie snorted, pushing the chair. And dont take it badly, Simon, I have to live my life, you see? Maam, could you not block the lift? The mans in a wheelchair! she snapped.
Had it been a workplace injury, a blaze and heroics, it would have been another matter, compensation and honour and all that; Lizzie might even have boasted of it. But a motorbike crashwell, they happen every day.
Simon? Is that you? A neighbour gasped. Heavens, what happened? Are you coming to see Evelyn?
Youll age faster knowing too much! Lizzie barked, wary.
Lizzie! Enough! Simon growled, knuckles white on the armrests.
The neighbour stared, frightened.
Dont be rude, Miss! Simon, Evelyns not in She
The lift doors shut. Lizzie pressed ten.
Simon still had a key to Evelyns flat. Silly thing, didnt even change the lock! Lizzie sneered. In we go
I hate you, you know that? I hate you! Simon grabbed her hand, pulled her close. Youve abandoned meno use for a cripple, is that it? Damn you!
He spat, not out of courage but from anguisha helpless, very human impotence. He was thirsty, needed his medication, but his hands fumbled with weakness.
Oh, sod off! Lizzie left the bag and walked out, slamming the door.
He sat there all evening in the middle of the lounge, the way hed done two years before. On the wall still hung that strange amber-laden landscapetheyd bought it together on honeymoon in Devon. Evelyn hadnt thrown it away.
Everything was as it had beenthe old furniture, boxes of postcards, the CD rack, the huge cactusSamuelwhich Simon had nearly drowned with too much watering while Evelyn was on a work trip.
The cactus had survived. But Simon Brunson? He wasnt suredamaged more inside or out.
Evelyn didnt seem to live here now. No water from the taps, no gas. Out for the long term?
He needed to ring her. Where was his mobile?
Clumsily, Simon fished his smartphone from his breast pocket, dropped it, struggled for itand failed.
Damn! Damn! Damn! he hissed, tears welling.
Tears for pain, for desolation, for helplessness and unknowing.
Evelyn burst into the flat at nearly midnight, home early from a work trip after the neighbours call.
She stumbled over the bags, snapped on the light, and stood still.
The wheelchair crouched in the stripe of moonlight, ghostly. Simon slumped over, wheezing in sleep.
Thats how people return unwanted children to the care home, cats and dogs to the shelter, a rejected dress to the shop, spoiled food to the market, unfulfilled people back to whence they came…
Things were hard, so hard. Simon wanted to leave, said hed hire a nurse, didnt want to be a burden.
Lets do this, Evelyn said, sitting opposite with two mugs of coffee. You get better, then you move on. This isnt pity, not in the degrading sense. Were not strangerswe even loved each other once Youll hate it alone, chasing nurses away after an hour! Your mother will only worry and run herself ragged. Shes rung already. So stay. Ive found a brilliant physiotherapistMatthew Lewin, remember? A year above at school. Hell come tomorrow, well sort everything. It wont be cheap, so start counting your savings. Agreed?
Simon ought to have refused, rolled nobly away. But he couldnt. He was terrified of facing his fate alone.
But then, had Evelyn not faced her own loneliness? Hed left, set off on a light-hearted life, while she filed the divorce papers, cried in the registry office, blamed herself. She didnt tell her parents the half of it.
Now, though, things were different. They were partnersa team, with a shared task.
Evelyn didnt coddle her ex-husband. She made him help around the flat, signed him up for French lessons with an evening group, persuaded him to requalify as a solicitor from home. He did.
She talked little about herself; Simon didnt pry. Sometimes the phone would ring and shed slip to another room to talk, covering the receiver.
Simon, for his part, waitedwaited for his strength, and his freedom, to return.
It happened sooner than hed hoped. Matthew Lewin was an excellent physiotherapiststern and insistent. By May, Simon could walk about the flat; by July, he walked to the flower shop to buy Evelyn a bouquet. He could have ordered onlineit wasn’t a question of money. He needed to do it himself. That was freedom, and strength.
Evelyn threw the flowers out the window, burst into tears, and told him to leave for good.
Simon nodded, then embraced herholding her tight, for one forever-long second.
Thank you, Evie, he whispered. Thank you. Forgive me, if you can. I love youtruly. Please, will you give us another chance?
It would have been more proper to turn him out and get on with lifeback to being simply partners in adversity. But now it was only two lonely people.
And then the loneliness vanishedso suddenly it was strange. They chose simply to be together, to see dawns together again, to sleep together, to face everythingas one.
…Well, how is it, living with an invalid? Lizzie sneered when she bumped into Evelyn at the shops.
With whom? All perfectly healthy in my house. Just ask Dennis Simon, Evelyn replied, nodding at the chubby infant nestled in the buggy. Sorry, must dashSimons got an appointment with the council today, and I need to see him off! She deftly navigated toward the exit.
What? Where? Evelyn, I looked after him in hospital, remember! Lizzie called after her.
Thank you, Lizzie. I always knew you were a true friend. Ill tell Simon youre glad for him! Evelyn smiled and left.
That evening, Lizzie dined out with a new man. There were drinks, dancing, a long empty nightand a hundred more like it to come. The man called her pet and love, and she turned away, for it was all wrong. What was right, she could not say. She rang Simon, but he didnt answer. She belonged to his past.
I just couldnt, Mum! I cant bear sick people! Lizzie sobbed in her mothers kitchen.
Of course you couldnt, dear. Why would you want a broken man? Well find you someone good and whole! her mother murmured, stroking her daughters hair, distractedly flicking on the telly. Oh, look at that dreadful womanabandoned her poorly child! Women like that should be locked up. The world is full of heartless people, Lizzie. Its a frightening place.
Lizzie looked at her mother, tears brimming. Life was very frightening indeed. And unspeakably lonely.
