Connor sat in his wheelchair, staring through the dusty window of his hospital room. Bad luck, really the window looked out onto the inner courtyard of the hospital, where there used to be a little garden with benches and flowerbeds, but now it was almost empty. It was winter, and patients rarely ventured out for a walk. Connor was alone. A week earlier his neighbour, Tommy Wilkinson, had been discharged, and ever since Connor felt a deep, lingering emptiness. Tommy was a chatty, cheerful bloke who knew a million stories and told them with the flair of a seasoned actor he was studying drama, third year. Being with Tommy meant never getting bored. Every day his mum would pop in with fresh scones, fruit, sweets, and Tommy would share them generously with Connor. With Tommy gone, a piece of homey comfort vanished, and Connor felt lonelier than ever, like he didnt matter to anyone.
His bleak thoughts were interrupted by a nurse walking in. He frowned even more when he saw who it was instead of the friendly young Dasha hed hoped for, it was the perpetually sour, foreverglum Lucy Hart. In the two months hed been in the ward, Connor had never seen Lucy smile or even lift her eyebrows. Her voice matched the creases on her face: sharp, rough, downright unpleasant.
Right, whats the situp, Connor? Back to the bed! Lucy barked, syringe in hand, already filled with medication.
Connor sighed, turned his chair around and wheeled himself to the bed. Lucy deftly helped him lie flat and then rolled him onto his stomach.
Strip your trousers, she ordered. He obeyed, feeling nothing. She was a master at giving injections, and every time Connor silently thanked her for her skill.
He wondered, How old could she be? Probably past retirement age, tiny pension, thatd explain the bite. She finally slipped a fine needle into his pale, almost invisible vein, making him wince just a little.
Alright, Connor, thats it. Did the doctor stop by today? she asked, already gathering her things.
No, not yet maybe later, he muttered.
Dont sit by the window, youll catch a draught and freeze like a dead fish, Lucy warned as she left.
Connor wanted to be annoyed, but there was a strange, gruff kindness behind her harsh words. He was an orphan. His parents died in a fire when he was four, the house in a small village going up in flames. His mother, in her last burst of strength, hurled him out a shattered window onto a snowdrift just before the roof collapsed, burying the rest of the family. Thats how he ended up in a childrens home. Relatives existed, but none took him in.
From his mother he inherited a gentle, dreamy nature and bright green eyes; from his father, tall stature, a long gait and a knack for maths. He remembered snippets of a life that felt like flickering film a village fête with his mum waving a colourful flag, sitting on his dads shoulders feeling summer wind on his cheeks, a big ginger cat calledwell, he could never recall the name. Apart from those fragments, nothing survived; even the family photo album was lost in the fire.
When he turned eighteen, the state gave him a bright, spacious room on the fourth floor of a council flat. He liked living alone, though sometimes the loneliness hit him hard enough to bring tears. Over time he grew used to being on his own and even saw some benefits, but the orphanage years still haunted him. Watching families at playgrounds, supermarkets, or just strolling down the high street filled him with bitter, uneasy thoughts.
He wanted to go to university after school, but his exam scores fell short, so he enrolled in a technical college instead. He liked the course, but didnt click with his classmates he was quiet and introverted, not much to talk about. He preferred books, scientific journals, and video games over noisy student parties. When he did talk, it was always about studies. The same went for girls: his shyness didnt win any points, and at eighteen and a half he still looked more like a sixteenyearold. He quickly became the odd one out in his group, but that didnt seem to bother him.
Two months ago, hurrying to a lecture on an icy pavement, he slipped in a subway tunnel and smashed both legs. The fractures were nasty, healing slowly and painfully, but in the last couple of weeks theyd improved. He hoped for discharge soon, yet his flat had no lift or ramps, so staying in a wheelchair looked like a longterm thing.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Richard Abbott, a trauma surgeon, stopped by. After checking the Xrays, he said, Well, Connor, good news your bones are finally knitting properly. In a couple of weeks you should be on crutches. You wont need to stay here any longer; youll be an outpatient. Well have your discharge papers in about an hour. Anyone coming to pick you up?
Connor nodded silently.
Great. Ill ask Lucy to help you pack up. Take care, and try not to end up back here, the doctor said with a cheerful wink before leaving.
Lucy reentered the room. What are you doing sitting there, Connor? Theyre getting you out, she said, handing him a small backpack that had been tucked under the bed. Pack up, love. Mrs. Patel will be in to change the sheets.
He shoved his modest belongings into the bag and felt Lucys eyes on him.
You lying to the doctor? she asked, tilting her head.
What? Connor replied, puzzled.
Dont play dumb, Connor. I know no ones coming for you. How are you getting home? Lucy pressed.
Ill manage, he muttered.
Youll be on crutches for at least another two weeks. How do you plan to live then? she pressed.
Ill figure it out. Im not a child, he snapped back.
Lucy sighed, then sat on the edge of the bed, looking straight at his face. Connor, I know its not my business, but with those injuries youll need help. You cant do it all yourself. Im not trying to be nasty, Im just being honest.
Ill manage on my own, he insisted.
You wont, Lucy said, voice softening. Ive been in this line of work for years. Dont argue like a kid.
Then whats the point of you saying all this? he asked.
Because you could stay with me for a while. I live out in the countryside, two steps up to the porch, a spare room. Once youre back on your feet you can go home. Im a widower, no kids, and I could use some company. She looked at him, hopeful.
Connor stared, stunned. Living with a stranger? Hed learned not to count on anyone but himself.
Why are you so quiet? Lucy asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Its awkward, I guess, he mumbled.
Stop being clever about it, Connor. Its hard enough living in a wheelchair in a house without lifts or ramps, Lucy retorted in her usual blunt way. So, are you coming?
He hesitated. On one hand, moving in with a total stranger felt uncomfortable; on the other, he still couldnt walk unaided and Lucys occasional teatime checkins Connor, have a meatball for lunch, close the window, have some curd for calcium had been the only caring voice in the ward. Now she was genuinely offering help.
Ill do it, he finally said, but Ive got no money. My stipend wont arrive for a while.
Lucys hand slammed against her hip, eyes widening. Connor, are you serious? You think Im offering a room for cash? I feel sorry for you, thats all.
I just thought he began, cutting himself off, Sorry, didnt mean to offend you.
Im not offended. Lets get you to the sisteroncall room for now, alright? My shift ends soon and well sort it out. She gestured toward the hallway.
Lucy lived in a tidy little cottage with narrow, carved windows. Inside were two snug rooms; one of them would become Connors. The first few days he was terrified, barely leaving his room and trying not to bother her with every little request. Lucy soon called him out: Stop being shy, love. If you need something, just ask. No need to be polite about tea.
He actually started to like it there the snow drifts outside the small panes, the crackle of wood in the stove, the smell of hearty homecooked food. It reminded him of the home hed lost, of a happier childhood.
Weeks passed. The wheelchair gave way to crutches, and soon it was time to head back to the city. After a visit to the clinic, Connor limped alongside Lucy, chatting about upcoming exams and coursework.
Youve got exams coming up, right? Lost a lot of time, thats a nightmare, he said.
Dont worry, Lucy replied, your college wont disappear. Your doctor said you should keep off your legs for a bit, so take it easy.
Their bond grew strong, and Connor often found himself not wanting to leave the cosy cottage or its everkind caretaker. Shed become, in his mind, a second mother, though he never found the courage to admit it, even to himself.
The next morning, while hunting for his phone charger, he turned and froze. Lucy stood in the doorway, tears streaming down her face. Something in him gave way and he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug.
Will you stay, Connor? she whispered through sobs. I dont know what Ill do without you.
He stayed. A few years later, Lucy took a place of honour at his wedding, seated beside his new wife as a beloved motherfigure. And a year after that, she held his newborn granddaughter in the hospital, a tiny girl named after her Lucy.
