Born Different Page 21

  Gabe had often wondered and mentally prepared himself for the day when he might be mugged or attacked, but when it came down to it, he just froze. It was not at all like he imagined it would be or how he would react. The flight or fight adrenalin reaction did in fact just render him immobile.

  Finally, after what could have been minutes or an hour, Grace’s father grabbed Gabe by the throat and he smashed him up against the living room wall with the full force of his drunken rage, knocking a painting of Ganesha on to the floor. Gabe did not resist, he just looked down at Ganesha staring back up him through the shattered glass, as if to say, ‘This is all a bit odd but stay calm.’

  Then, it was all over and Grace’s dad just turned around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving the house tainted and static with fear, upset and confusion.

  Chapter 25

  The doorbell must have been ringing for a while as Gabe heard it in his dreams first before he realised that it was his own front door. Why was no one answering it? He didn’t have enough time to bandage himself up so he just threw on his dressing gown.

  Gabe threw open the door to stop the source of the shrilling and found it was Nathaniel stood there. At first, Gabe was taken aback, then the pent up rage started shooting through his veins, igniting Gabe’s nerve endings and senses. The memories of the night before came flashing back and Gabe was now furious.

  “Gabe.” Nathaniel was standing in the door way looking somehow smaller and sicker and weaker than usual.

  “Gabe, its Grace. They’ve taken her by ambulance up to the hospital.” Nathaniel looked from side to side and Gabe followed his gaze but there was no one there.

  “What? What’s wrong with Grace?” Gabe’s anger turning now to mild panic.

  “I couldn’t wake her up. She said she was going to get away, run away. Mum’s gone and dad said he’d been over here and beaten up you and your mum. He said he’d trashed your house. And…and…Gabe, I don’t know what to do.” Nathaniel was jumpy, still repeatedly looking one way and then another again and scratching his face and arms.

  “You know it was him that hit Grace? Your own dad beat up your sister! Has he bloody hit her again?”

  “No Gabe it’s not that.” Now Nathaniel was crying and obviously in a right state. “Grace said she was going to run away with you and so dad came over here, said he was going to kill you. I think she was drinking and she took some pills Gabe. I think she may have even taken some of my stuff Gabe, the heroin.”

  “You what?’ Gabe couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Everything flashed before him, every option of what Nathaniel might say next.

  Gabe had the singular thought that winded him, that kicked him in the stomach as hard as any horse would. Grace is dead! Gabe felt the words hanging in the air, ready, so that the next words to come out of Nathaniel’s mouth would be just that. Grace is dead. Gabe didn’t want to ask the question that would give him the answer that he couldn’t bear to hear. The answer that would kill him on the spot. But he had to.

  “Is she alright? Nathaniel, is she fucking alright?”

  “I don’t know Gabe. I didn’t go to the hospital. They took her in the ambulance and the sirens and the lights were going and they rushed her to the hospital.”

  “Who went with her then? Who is with Grace?”

  “No one Gabe. Mum’s just disappeared and dad came home last night and trashed our house, broke every single bit of china and glass. Everything. Smashed the whole place up and then he left. And it was just me and Grace and we just wanted to forget it all and get drunk and then when I came round I couldn’t wake her up and I called 999.”

  Gabe thought of Grace’s father’s words that still echoed in his head and around this room where the only physical evidence left of the drama the night before was the smashed glass Ganesha picture now resting on the side table in the lounge. All those words and accusations that Gabe was no good for Grace! In what position had this man been in to tell Gabe, Gabe who loved Grace, properly loved her, would die for her, who saw and felt her pain? And these people, her own blood. Her own family. They did not care at all. There was no love there for her. Poor Grace. Poor little rich girl who was so unloved and who everyone thought had everything. It left Gabe feeling hollow with grief for her.

  “Have you got any money Gabe?”

  But Gabe just slammed the door in his face.

  Gabe knew he had to get to the hospital. He had The Exhibition this afternoon but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter at all anymore. Nothing else mattered. Gabe was focused and all he knew was that he had to be with Grace. He had to go and find her immediately. He had to find out if she was ok. Or not!

  He didn’t have the time to go and oil and wrap himself up, he needed to be with Grace as soon as possible. He put on his black jeans and black boots and threw on two tight black t-shirts, a big black jumper and his jacket. That would have to do. What did it matter now anyway, in comparison to this, what did his wings matter? If exposing his wings would bring Grace back then it was a small price to pay. Nothing came close to mattering as much as Grace mattered.

  Gabe ran as fast as he could across town to the hospital. Sweating and in pain, he ran through the traffic, through the throngs of shoppers and through the crowds of people just hanging about. Everyone else seemed to be on a go slow. Why isn’t everyone running? That is what Gabe wanted to know. Why wasn’t everyone realising that he was in a hurry and that they had to get out of the fucking way. People seemed to be blocking and stopping him on purpose, creating hurdles. But Gabe would not give up or slow down, or stop to catch his breath. Gabe ran with the urgency of life or death.

  It had to be the hottest day of the year so far and Gabe was baking hot and sweating profusely; over-heating with the stress and sprinting on top of sweltering heat of the sun beating down on him. It was unbearable, so without stopping, Gabe took his jacket then his jumper off, put the jumper in a public bin that he passed and put the jacket back on again without breaking his stride.

  At the hospital front desk, there was a massive queue and the people in the front were asking all sorts of inane questions and chatting away like they had all the time in the world. Gabe needed to find out where Grace was but they were taking forever.

  He had no patience for it, not one bit in the circumstances. Sweat was dripping down his face and his jacket was soaked, he felt wet and sticky from the sweat pouring off him and he felt on the edge of punching someone in the face. Gabe couldn’t wait any longer and so he just walked swiftly past the desk and ran down the cool corridor, turning round corners and past wards, shouting out for her. He ran past doors that contained rows of sick people in bed, the smell of excrement and dying flesh overpowering even his own body odour. He looked behind curtains and behind shut doors, apologising as he went and shouting with more and more desperation in his voice for Grace.

  “Grace! Grace! GRACE!”

  Gabe’s heart beat so hard, he felt it in his chest and heard it loud in his ears. Grace, Grace, Grace. And then, at the end of the corridor, with nowhere else left to go, Gabe looked into a single room and there she was.

  Grace was lying there totally still with a white sheet covering her. Gabe called out her name again now but softly and still she didn’t move. She was surrounded by all the hospital room paraphernalia, machines and flashing lights, wires and liquids and whirling noises. She was on a drip. Gabe could see the long thick I.V. needle that went in through the crease in her arm and up into to her vein.

  Gabe touched her and she just lay there so pale that she was almost translucent. Her face looked ghostly, her eye sockets and cheeks were sunken and dark purple, almost black. She looked awful and Gabe’s heart that had been racing so fast felt like it had stopped as still as the room.

  Grace looked dead but she couldn’t be. The lights were still going on the machines. The screen was showing a picture that showed that her heart still beat like a mountain range. In this sterile place that looked so barren,
with so many unnatural straight lines everywhere that it was almost goading the heart’s beat and rhythm to flat line, to keep in line with the decor. But her heart rebelled and it beat and the lines went straight up and down, against the grain. Grace was alive.

  “Oh Grace what have you done?”

  Gabe collapsed at the side of her bed and wept into the sheets next to her cold, unmoving, unconscious body.

  A doctor had followed Gabe into the room.

  “What’s all the shouting about?”

  Gabe was crying, sobbing like his heart was breaking in two. He felt his heart physically tearing itself apart with the most excruciating pain he had ever felt.

  “She’s my girlfriend,” Gabe whispered in the only voice he could find even though in his mind he was shouting louder than he could have thought possible. His head was filled with a silent scream for Grace.

  The doctor had thought that he had seen it all and that he was hardened to all sorts by now but there was something about this young man and his love for this girl who had so nearly died this morning and been alone ever since.

  “She is going to be ok but she was very lucky. Poor thing.”

  “Oh Grace, please get better. I’ll never leave you. You’ll never have to go back to that place.” Gabe’s frustration and anger were overtaking now. He felt like he could throttle someone. After all her dad had said and done last night and not only to him and his mum but to his own home and family. Grace here all alone, Grace who could have even died alone, because of them, and they didn’t even care. And still didn’t. She could have been lying dead for hours in some room alone and not one of her family would even know yet. Gabe’s heart was so full to bursting with love for Grace that it tore some more in abject agony for her.

  And then that was it. Gabe made up his mind. He had to take drastic action. They had to get away. Things had to change.

  They had to get away fast, run away, whatever it took. They could not stay here any longer. What were the choices now? Death! That was the only other option now if they did nothing. Grace had been so stressed with the pressure of exams and doing well and Gabe with The Exhibition and his paintings and the sculpture! Now what did any of it really mean anyway in the long run? Or if you were dead?

  Gabe felt like his blood was running cold. He had worried before, what people thought, if her parents and brother would like him. If her friends would like him or just accept him. Where the hell were they all now when it did matter? Why had he ever worried about what they thought? They were the ones that should have the worry about what people thought about them, for fucks sake. Everything was the wrong way round.

  But he was here and Grace was here and she was alive. All Gabe needed now was another miracle.

  “Can I come back later tonight?” Gabe had to go, if he needed a miracle he was going to have to put in some action to get one going.

  “You can come back whenever you want. Ok?”

  “Does she need anything? Should I bring anything?”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea. She wasn’t brought in with anything. She’ll need a night dress or two and some wash things, some fruit and maybe some flowers too, eh! I know what us men can be like sometimes.” The doctor was so kind to Gabe that he could have cried even more but he knew he had to pull himself together. If he had thought that things were serious before, he was mistaken. This was as serious as life could get. He had to pull himself together and get through today. He had to take responsibility.

  Staring death in the face changes you forever.

  You can worry about exams and about money and your place in society, you can worry about your parents, your children; about strangers in your street and in foreign lands. You can worry about wars and the state of the economy and everything else that you are conditioned to worry and fret about. But life is short and precious and nothing compares to the realisation that you might lose forever someone that you love.

  It put everything into sharp focus. It put the big things that didn’t really matter into their right place and the little things just evaporated. Gabe felt crystal clear and he knew what he had to do. Nothing else mattered.

  The doctor touched Gabe on his shoulder and then on the top of his wing, that had worked itself lose from his T-shirts as his jacket had now slipped down to his elbows, half way down his arms.

  “Ah, you have wings!”

  “Err no…” Gabe quickly looked to his side and saw what the doctor had seen.

  “Don’t worry. It’s more common than you think. Rare, of course, but there have always been fables and stories in the medical profession of it happening. But I assume that these people don’t like to make a fuss about it. I never saw it before though myself, well not till now. Amazing.”

  So they weren’t the only ones, Gabe and his dad. There were others. Others that hid it too.

  “I’ll be back later I promise. I just need to sort a few things out.”

  Even the thing that Gabe had always thought of being his biggest problem, the wings, seemed petty in comparison to the woman you loved lying in some hospital bed so close to death.

  Even though he was not alone, there was no accompanying ‘Eureka’ moment like Gabe had always imagined there would be if he ever found out there were others. He was not jumping for joy with a tear in his eye, relieved and fixed. The things that he thought would fix him only went to highlight, and if anything exacerbate, the things that were breaking him apart. He felt selfish; selfish and self-obsessed about his wings. When people, his friends even, the people he loved, they all suffered, as bad if not worse than what Gabe had to suffer daily. He felt like he had been a fool. He had wasted so much time.

  First things first, thought Gabe. Just take one step at a time today. If he ran and everything went smoothly he could get to the opening of The Exhibition. He had not prepared a speech or anything and he had no time to even worry about it now. He would be glad when it was all over and he could go and pick up some stuff for Grace and see where his mum was and come back to the hospital. He could bring his mum too, Grace would like that. And her family? Fuck them, what had they ever done for her? Fancy house and expensive clothes but it all meant nothing. Without love and care it was worthless.

  Gabe was going to save her. He was going to make her dreams come true. Love her, hold her and talk to her so that the comfort was real and not alcohol induced. Gabe had heard that you had to love yourself before anyone could love you but Gabe didn’t believe it. Grace’s love had made him love himself, his love could make her come to love herself too. Love herself enough not to want to kill herself or drink or starve herself to death. He was good enough for her. Gabe believed that now. Her father had been talking complete bullshit. He didn’t even know or love his own daughter. It was him that beat her, him that drove her to want to end it all. Her mother, completely unavailable, unsupportive, incapable. They would be free of it.

  Gabe would give Grace her wings like she was giving his back to him.

  Chapter 26

  Gabe got to The Exhibition. He had run all the way, stopping only to catch his breath and text his friends. Dave and Frank had picked up his art work and Johnny had just finished hanging the paintings in Gabe’s exhibition space. They were all unloading the heavily wrapped sculpture as Gabe arrived.

  Gabe was so happy to see them, so grateful to them for everything that he threw his arms around them and hugged them close and tight and he really wanted to cry again but he held it together, even though it took the small bit of strength he had left in him to maintain any kind of composure.

  The Exhibition was heaving. Everyone was there, his friends and the rest of the school, parents, teachers and even some of the city gallery owners that Gabe recognised. A few semi-famous names too, ex pupils doing their bit, cool at long last so strutting around the place like peacocks. Some of the students were filming and everyone else who was exhibiting were milling around their own space with fixed grins.

  Gabe was so hot now after the running and all t
he emotion that he had to take his jacket off, it was unbearable and what did it matter? He thought he would pass out if he got any hotter.

  “What on earth…” Someone realised immediately what they had just thought they had seen and had jumped back in shock.

  “What you got on there? Is this part of the act? Hey, genius man.”

  “Hey guys, look over here, this guy and his paintings.”

  Gabe realised that his wings had come free. Just the top parts. What the hell, thought Gabe, Really, what the hell! What was the worst that could happen and was it going to be any worse than what he had already been through today? No! Gabe took off his shirts and let his wings out. He thought twice about it, but he had come this far, so Gabe took a deep breath in and out and as he inhaled again, he stretched his wings out wide. Wide, proud and stunning.

  “Cool man.”

  It was like everyone in the room’s attention was drawn to where Gabe was standing.

  “What a great idea, they’re just like in your paintings, classic.”

  And they were right.

  Gabe’s paintings were all of men and women with wings. Fallen angels. Men and woman, old and young. From every corner and bend in the world, from the gutter and from the heavens. People dominated in all of his paintings and they all had wings. Men and women all they were all revealing their true colours amid the backdrop of a world hostile and in turmoil. In Gabe’s paintings the Worlds cities, high rise buildings, businesses and economies crashed and burned while the people rose up and took control again from those who had enslaved their minds. The people were celebrating and having revolutions of love and kindness, of being alive rather than a cog in a machine to make money for the faceless few. Free from brainwashing and control. Free to be creative. Free to be themselves. Free to fly.