Heat

Lights, cameras and action

CAMERA'S lights and ACTION

 THE number of Thompson's dwindle as the afternoon slides into evening.

He's holding his own.  No change. No better no worse.

Someone supplied food, but, well, none of us feel that hungry.

Mum's still with him, she's not going anywhere - the nurses have made up a bed for her.

Dave and Nathan have gone home and come back, resolving to be here through the night. Di has gone home  with Trish and Mark– she's exhausted and pregnant and her kids need her.  

I think I'm tired but I'm not sure.

I'm next to Scott, my head on his shoulder. Tom is here but on the other side we are the last of the Mohicans. There's nothing to do but wait.

The airconditioning is nice, the heat is still oppressive despite the threat of a thunderstorm.

The twinkling lights of the Gold Coast illuminate the room giving it almost a hotel feel, but the lounge area is old and uninviting and I just want to curl up on my own in a ball in my own room with Mr Cool and just escape.

No more people.

Stuart hasn't come back, he's at my place I think.

 I have no idea.

Dave wants us to go home - Scott and I want to stay. We can't leave our parents.

Tom works on Scott. He doesn't try with me, maybe he's worked out I'm immune, maybe he just wants to avoid me. We still haven't talked. Instead he's gently persuading him that he needs to eat and have a shower and see Stu– that he's been in this position with his own dad and there's nothing to do now.

He's very persuasive, and another Thompson man falls to his charm, his persuasion and I try not to feel angry, try not to argue and try to stay. Try not to say the obvious.

"Haven't you done enough persuading for a life time? Isn't that why we're all here in the first place?"

I fight all these urges but I don't know how much longer I can.

My fucking father is in the hospital – he's not moving – he's only got one leg.

I need to be angry, I am angry.

Dave puts his arm around me and I try not to flinch. He promises I can come back at first light – he's got things to do anyway. He jokes that I smell pretty horrendous and the nurses won't let me in again. He promises to ring me if anything changes. He looks towards Scott and then back at me. He's telling me our little brother needs me and I finally give in. 

Wearily we leave the hospital. Scott and I have our arms around each other and Tom trails us, so he doesn't quite look like his with us but he's close enough that if we need him he'll be there. Unbelievable there is a news crew – what the hell? It's 9pm at night, it will be new years eve in a few hours and there is a fucking news crew outside the door.

Actually it's a lone cameraman and another photographer– the cameraman apologises and asks how our dad is. I can see him zeroing in on Tom trying to get the three of us in view and I'm pissed off. The other guy gets a shot of Tom and one of Scott and I.  I start to shake – I'm so angry. My dad is dying and these pricks want to get shots of the movie stars.

Scott holds me tight and Tom steps in front of us.

"I know you're just doing your job," Tom says putting his hand over the lens.

"But it's been a long day."

"Dad's hanging in there boys, thanks for your concern" comes Scott's voice.