punished,' he shouted, punching back with such force I didn't dare take a breath or I'd cop a mouthful of water. 'I'm going to get you, you dobber.'
He managed to grab my foot. I tried to kick him off but his eleven years had an advantage over my nine. He dragged me towards him and held onto the back of my hair.
'I'm gonna kill you.' And by the look on his face I believed him.
He pushed my head under the water. I struggled under the weight of his hands, and each time I nearly surfaced he'd shove me under again, his grip firmer.
Who knows how long he held me under? A minute, maybe fifteen seconds. What I can remember is the feeling of my head wanting to explode and how silent it was under the water.
The Royal Prince Charles Hospital in Aralen had a better than average spinal unit, and that's where Fin had pretty much been since August last year. Except for intensive care where he'd spent a couple of weeks when things were touch and go.
Dad took me to see Fin the third day after the accident. I found out later they didn't think he was going to make it. I can't recall any conversation. What had just happened to our families was so enormous, so beyond any comprehension, that all we could do was stand around, stunned and silent, watching Fin and a machine that heaved and clicked with each breath it took for him.
'Hey, Tom!'
And here he was six months later. His hair had grown back and he could breathe for himself. But he'd never be the real Fin, the Fin I knew.
'How's it going, bro?'
'Fin,' I said shoving my hand in my back pocket, stopping the instinct to slap his like we'd always done. 'How are you goin', mate?'
'Not bad. They're talking about moving me to rehab.'
'Yeah, the old man told me.'
'Is he with you?'
'Nah. I came up with Brendan, he's just gone to the dunny.'
'Take a pew, mate.'
On the back of Fin's bed read a sign, 'Finbar O'Neil, C5 incomplete injury.'
I don't know why they just didn't write 'quadraplegic'.
He must've seen me looking. 'You checking out my new mate?'
'Hey?' Next to the sign was one of The Grandmother's holy cards. 'Yeah.' I pointed to the serene face. 'Who's the dude?'
'One of Gran's boyfriends,' grinned Fin. It was a joke we had. Fin got a flogging once when Gran heard him calling Saint Christopher her boyfriend.
'I figured that,' I told him. 'But which one?'
At least we still had Gran's saints to laugh about. It wasn't much but it was something.
'I don't think you've met Saint Osmond.'
'Don't believe I have.' I found myself chuckling. 'What's he the boss of?'
'Osmond, my boy, is the patron saint of paralysis.'
Suddenly it wasn't funny.
I looked around the empty room pretending my head wasn't starting to spin out of control. 'Where are the others?'
'The orderlies've been having a slack day. They wheeled the fellas out into the sun so they can have a smoke, check out the nurses having their lunchbreak. Just 'cause it ain't working doesn't mean you've forgotten.'
'Yeah?' I didn't know how to respond to that either. This was Fin's new world. 'Is Martin still in this room?'
'Marvin,' corrected Fin. 'He went to the rehab unit two weeks ago. You're down on the action, mate.'
'Yeah?'
'Marv's replacement's a real beauty. Lucky for us he can't move or he'd be trying to murder someone.'
I opened my mouth then closed it. I'd run out of comebacks.
Fin filled the silence. 'So, the Brennans moved.'
'Yeah.' I wiped the sweat off my forehead.
'You're a Coghill boy now.' There was something about the way his top lip curled. 'Who would've thought.'
I swallowed hard.
'Sorry, mate.' Fin looked away. 'Didn't mean it to sound harsh. Just got too much time up here.'
'It's okay,' I mumbled.
'Wasn't your fault, mate.'
I shrugged and stared at my feet.
'I was thinking about it last night.' Fin's voice was soft. 'That's all I seem to do at night, think. The nights are so long in this place. I hate them. My head goes off and I can't shut it down. I get real scared.' He stared at the
He managed to grab my foot. I tried to kick him off but his eleven years had an advantage over my nine. He dragged me towards him and held onto the back of my hair.
'I'm gonna kill you.' And by the look on his face I believed him.
He pushed my head under the water. I struggled under the weight of his hands, and each time I nearly surfaced he'd shove me under again, his grip firmer.
Who knows how long he held me under? A minute, maybe fifteen seconds. What I can remember is the feeling of my head wanting to explode and how silent it was under the water.
The Royal Prince Charles Hospital in Aralen had a better than average spinal unit, and that's where Fin had pretty much been since August last year. Except for intensive care where he'd spent a couple of weeks when things were touch and go.
Dad took me to see Fin the third day after the accident. I found out later they didn't think he was going to make it. I can't recall any conversation. What had just happened to our families was so enormous, so beyond any comprehension, that all we could do was stand around, stunned and silent, watching Fin and a machine that heaved and clicked with each breath it took for him.
'Hey, Tom!'
And here he was six months later. His hair had grown back and he could breathe for himself. But he'd never be the real Fin, the Fin I knew.
'How's it going, bro?'
'Fin,' I said shoving my hand in my back pocket, stopping the instinct to slap his like we'd always done. 'How are you goin', mate?'
'Not bad. They're talking about moving me to rehab.'
'Yeah, the old man told me.'
'Is he with you?'
'Nah. I came up with Brendan, he's just gone to the dunny.'
'Take a pew, mate.'
On the back of Fin's bed read a sign, 'Finbar O'Neil, C5 incomplete injury.'
I don't know why they just didn't write 'quadraplegic'.
He must've seen me looking. 'You checking out my new mate?'
'Hey?' Next to the sign was one of The Grandmother's holy cards. 'Yeah.' I pointed to the serene face. 'Who's the dude?'
'One of Gran's boyfriends,' grinned Fin. It was a joke we had. Fin got a flogging once when Gran heard him calling Saint Christopher her boyfriend.
'I figured that,' I told him. 'But which one?'
At least we still had Gran's saints to laugh about. It wasn't much but it was something.
'I don't think you've met Saint Osmond.'
'Don't believe I have.' I found myself chuckling. 'What's he the boss of?'
'Osmond, my boy, is the patron saint of paralysis.'
Suddenly it wasn't funny.
I looked around the empty room pretending my head wasn't starting to spin out of control. 'Where are the others?'
'The orderlies've been having a slack day. They wheeled the fellas out into the sun so they can have a smoke, check out the nurses having their lunchbreak. Just 'cause it ain't working doesn't mean you've forgotten.'
'Yeah?' I didn't know how to respond to that either. This was Fin's new world. 'Is Martin still in this room?'
'Marvin,' corrected Fin. 'He went to the rehab unit two weeks ago. You're down on the action, mate.'
'Yeah?'
'Marv's replacement's a real beauty. Lucky for us he can't move or he'd be trying to murder someone.'
I opened my mouth then closed it. I'd run out of comebacks.
Fin filled the silence. 'So, the Brennans moved.'
'Yeah.' I wiped the sweat off my forehead.
'You're a Coghill boy now.' There was something about the way his top lip curled. 'Who would've thought.'
I swallowed hard.
'Sorry, mate.' Fin looked away. 'Didn't mean it to sound harsh. Just got too much time up here.'
'It's okay,' I mumbled.
'Wasn't your fault, mate.'
I shrugged and stared at my feet.
'I was thinking about it last night.' Fin's voice was soft. 'That's all I seem to do at night, think. The nights are so long in this place. I hate them. My head goes off and I can't shut it down. I get real scared.' He stared at the
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