Three Tears
by David Heulfryn

 

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tom never noticed the powerboat that rounded the rocky outcrop of the cove and beached itself on the sand. Four men got out of the boat; two ran to James while the others turned the boat around, readying it for the return trip.

And Tom never noticed the two men approach him, eager to assess James’ injuries until he felt a cold hand on his bare shoulder.

They told him they were there to help, but he needed to let them get to James. That was the most difficult moment of his life so far, letting go of James and watching helplessly as two men started touching James, trying to find out what was wrong.

Somehow, they had managed to rouse him, and Tom could hear James mumbling to them. One man was nodding and took out a syringe from his medkit. He injected James.

Bandages, splints and slings were all put on James as the other two men approached with a stretcher.

James screamed as they pulled and rolled him onto the stretcher

Tom stayed with James as they gently put him in the boat, and as soon as he could, he grabbed hold of his hand again.

Once the medics were sure that James was stable, they asked Tom how he was and checked out his scrapes and grazes. It was difficult while the boat bounced on the waves, but there would be time to examine him thoroughly later.

The boat took them to the mainland, and Tom saw the blue flashing lights of an ambulance waiting for them on the quayside.

The two boys were separated when they reached the hospital; Tom was taken to a cubicle, where he waited alone. James was taken elsewhere.

A doctor pulled back the curtains and looked at the young man wearing nothing but his swim shorts; his body was dirty with mud and sand caked onto his skin by the blood from his scrapes. His English was not fluent, but he had enough to talk to and understand Tom. He told him to lie on his back while he picked up his limbs, flexed his joints, and palpated his abdomen.

Aside from the minor cuts and bruising, he gave Tom a clean bill of health. There was no severe damage. Tom kept asking for news about James, but the doctor kept saying he didn’t know and another doctor was looking after him. He needed to send a nurse in to clean him up; the doctor placated Tom and said he would get her to update him on James.

The nurse was rotund and very chirpy. She talked incessantly, not allowing Tom to get a word in. The only time he spoke was when she asked him a direct question. He sat back and supposed it was a ploy by the staff to stop him from harassing them about James. Delicately, she dabbed and cleaned his wounds, bandaging the worst ones on his arms and feet. The soles of his feet were torn to shreds, and by the time she had finished with him, he looked like he was wearing a pair of white ankle socks.

With his body now clean and his wounds disinfected, she was finished. But before she left, she fetched a bed sheet and wrapped it around Tom, telling him he must keep warm.

As she left, he lay back down, curled onto his side and fell asleep.

 

James felt his hand being squeezed as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. He felt like he was strapped to the bed, but the sheets were wrapped over him and tucked in neatly at the sides. Except for the lump where his body was, the sheets were flat and creaseless.

“Tom.” He murmured and squeezed back.

But the voice that responded was not that of a young man but a woman. The surprise made James open his eyes sooner than he had wanted, the fluorescent tubes dazzling him until his pupils constricted.

Twisting, James looked toward the voice, and his mother’s face came into focus.

On his first movement, she rose to her feet and loomed over his bed, kissing him on the forehead.

She explained that the production team had flown her out on the only available seat and that she had been worried sick. The last thing she heard was that he was being x-rayed and checked for internal bleeding. Naturally, she feared the worst and needed to be by his side. He had been asleep for several hours, and she kept a private vigil over his pale, battered body.

The pain was beginning to come back, and she told him not to move. The doctors needed to operate on his leg to set a compound fracture, and he’d broken his collarbone and dislocated his elbow, which was quickly put back in place but would remain sore for some time.

Then she asked the question he had been dreading. “So what happened?”

James knew he would need to answer this question many times and assumed it would be to the doctors and Production Company first. He told it like it happened, how he and Tom had been hounded and attacked. James also included a few previous incidents to show how Henry behaved. But what was conspicuous by its absence was the reason why, and his mother patiently sat as James recounted his story, hoping he would explain.

“So why did they pick on you and Tom, not the others?” She asked James as he seemed to end his story, or perhaps he was taking a long breath.

“What have they told you?” He nervously asked.

“Nothing. And that’s what’s most frustrating; you have always got on well with everyone before. Was it this Tom?”

“No!” He was defensive. “Not directly.”

She sensed it was difficult for him, so she rested her hand on his good arm and lightly stroked it. “You can tell me. Nothing can shock me. You’ve got into all kinds of scrapes before, and we’ve stood by you.”

“We did nothing wrong.” James sighed and rolled his head to the side, breaking eye contact with his mother. “We did nothing wrong.” He whispered again, but to himself this time.

She continued to stroke his arm, waiting for him to speak. When James turned again to look at her, she noticed three tears on his cheek. They seemed glued to his skin, steadfastly refusing to roll down or evaporate in the warm air.

“They saw us kissing.” James let his statement hang in the air and watched for any reaction while a pit in his stomach opened up and made him nauseous.

The face he intently examined began to smile, and the pit shrank, making him feel better.

“Is that all?” The question was asked.

James could not look his mother in the eye when he responded, “No.” The hand on his arm stopped moving.

“Do you love him?”

“I think so,” he paused and looked again at his mother, “but I haven’t even told him that.”

“That is so sweet; my eldest boys are in love.”

James was shocked and let his jaw drop.

“But I will not let those responsible for this off lightly.”

“You know about Martin?” And his mother told him what had been happening while he was away.

James sat through a lecture from his mother about how he was too young to get serious or physical with anyone, even a girl, and how he should not decide now about where his preferences lay. He dreaded that stock phrase was about to come about. It just might be a phase, and come it did.

When she ended her lecture, she stood up and told him she would find Tom, as he was eager to see him. Before she left, she bent over him and kissed away those three tears, trying to kiss away his pain.

 

Tom was sitting on his hospital bed, his legs dangling over the side. Since James’ mother had arrived, he’d kept his distance from them. When she arrived, she was so worried about her son that she didn’t even notice Tom. So he left James’ bedside and returned to his room. Despite wanting to be with him and be there when he woke up, he knew it was his mother’s duty, knowing that some difficult conversations would have to be had. He preferred not to pre-empt them and talk to his mother about what had happened.

A wheelchair was at the side of his bed; he looked at it and frowned. He felt fine, but the doctor insisted that he keep off his feet for fear of opening his wounds, so he would have to wheel himself whenever he wanted to go anywhere. Initially, he found it very awkward but was now beginning to get used to it. He always felt a little guilty when taking a couple of steps to get in the chair, but he was always careful and as quick as possible.

Tom swung his legs nervously and vigorously, his hands clasped on his lap and his knuckles white as he gripped hard. James was only next door, and he could hear him talking. When the talking stopped, he felt his stomach lurch into his throat, and for an instant, he felt like crying but somehow managed to hold it back. He had no idea why he almost cried and assumed it was down to stress and worry about James, his injuries and the aftermath, which was still to come.

His legs ceased swinging, and he turned to see James’ mother in the doorway. He’d kept his door open to see and hear life outside his little room; he didn’t want to feel alone, and the noises comforted him. He was pretty impressed with the hospital, but then they were treated privately, in private rooms, and with the best care their insurance could find.

As he looked into her eyes, those tears he tried to suppress burst through, and he told her how sorry he was.

She walked over to him and hugged him. With her mouth near his ear, she whispered. “You have nothing to be sorry about. None of this is your fault.”

His tears didn’t stop, and he responded to her hug by wrapping his arms around her back and holding her tightly.

“Where’s your parents?” She asked.

“They can’t make it yet. It’s their work. They say they could be here by the weekend. But I’m hoping to be on my way home by then.”

“So soon?”

“I just want to go home.” Tom let out a brief sob and held her even tighter. She wasn’t his mother but the next best thing and the only person available to comfort him.

“Come on; let’s take you to see James. He’s awake now and eager to see you.” She released Tom and wheeled his chair a few feet nearer.

Sliding off the bed, Tom gingerly put his weight on the heels of his feet, the area least damaged, and shuffled over to the chair. He lifted himself in while James’ mother held it steady.

James’ eyes never left the open door from the moment his mother left to when he saw Tom emerge in his wheelchair. Their eyes locked, and both faces lit up with bright smiles and tears of joy.

Tom took James’ hand as he was pushed over to the bed.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment; I want to speak to the doctors.” Neither boy noticed James’ mother leave.

 

The two boys were being shielded from what was happening behind the scenes; they just concentrated on supporting each other and nursing each other through their ordeal. James’ mother took charge of everything else and was quite formidable in dealing with the hospital staff and production team. It was clear that both their families wanted their boys home as soon as possible, and she was the one who made it happen. The doctors wanted to hold them for observation, but she figured this was just to hold them so they could claim more money from the insurance company. The production team wanted to speak to the boys and get statements, but they were only allowed to see them briefly as each visit caused them emotional distress. Finally, the local police turned up and insisted on taking a statement. The other people on the island had been quickly flown back to Britain, and as the police couldn’t interview everyone involved, they decided they could not take matters further. However, they had some stern words to the production company for allowing them to leave.

It took four days for the doctors to discharge James and Tom and to arrange flights back to Britain. James’ mother went shopping and picked up some clothes for them to wear on their journey home. When they arrived at Heathrow Airport, their families greeted them with more hugs and kisses; Martin gave James an especially long embrace.

After a few months, the physical scars healed, and life on the island faded into a memory.

The television programme was abandoned, and compensation was offered to James and Tom, which was accepted, but neither of them felt they needed to take them up on the offer of counselling. The only bitterness they felt was that Henry seemed to be getting off unpunished.

 

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