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A long time ago, I could walk. Dance, even. I’m kind of shy but when the right music plays and it’s loud and it’s thumpin’, I can lose myself on the dance floor.

Not anymore.

There was a girl called Jazz. Me and my mate, Tuck, met her one night at a club. She gave us roofies and we got high in the back alley between the rotting garbage and smashed bottles. She became our dealer and our friend.

I had a secret crush on Jazz. Turns out so did Tuck.

One summer we spent a week at the beach, couch surfing with a mate from school. We trashed the apartment. Looked like a war zone you see on TV.

The last night of our stay, I was sitting alone on the balcony trying to force myself to get the guts to tell Jazz how I felt. The rest of the crew was inside. I looked through the glass doors and saw Tuck kiss Jazz. Jazz kissed back. My heart sank. I wanted to spew. I leant over the balcony, my head spinning. The stars in the sky were bright like hundred watt globes. So close I could reach them. Or so I thought. Tuck had spiked my drink with LSD. I didn’t know that until later. I believed I could reach the stars if I leant just a bit further over the edge. Then I believed I could fly. For real. No joke. Like a friggin’ eagle soaring above the whole world. It was so damn real. I stood on the edge of the balcony, spread my wings and took off.

Six floors down.

I don’t remember the fall or the impact.

One doctor said I was lucky. I told him, if this is lucky mate, I don’t want to meet a loser. I think that pissed him off.

‘What’s that tune?’ the nurse said.

‘What tune?’

‘You’re humming a tune, Tony,’ she said.

‘Am I awake?’

‘Sure are, and humming like a happy man.’

‘I don’t know what I was humming.’

‘But it was just now, a moment ago,’ she said.

‘I don’t friggin’ know, all right!’

The nurse took two steps back away from my hospital bed.

‘What’s your name?’ I said.

‘Judy.’

‘Are you new?’

‘No, Tony,’ she said. ‘I’ve been taking care of you five days a week for about two years.’

That makes no sense. I’ve never seen her before. She steps towards me and rests her hand on my arm. I feel nothing. Why can’t I feel anything when she’s touching me? Her face is kind. Like nanna. But younger.

‘Tony, it wasn’t just your body that got hurt,’ she said. ‘Your brain also got injured. So it’s hard for you to remember things. And people.’

But I remember what happened. Over and over.

I remember Jazz.

She never came to visit.

Neither did Tuck.

Or did they?

I don’t remember.

This story was donated by Helen Angela Taylor
Helen is a freelance writer
Copyright May 2018

 

For as long as I can remember, I have been safety conscious. I was one of those kids who never explored beyond our fenced backyard. I didn’t take the training wheels off my bike until I turned ten.

So, I have no idea why I took on the dive that almost cost me my life. It was a month into the summer holidays, two weeks short of returning to school.

On the day of my near demise, a group of us met up at Newport Beach and made our way across the burning sand to the swimming pool. I was wearing my new canary yellow bikini with underwire, which made my boobs appear more prominent than they were.

Max, one of the guys in our group, couldn’t take his eyes off me. That was until his mate Brad, a tall, skinny boy, with a caved in stomach and snow-white skin called out, ‘Hey guys, I reckon that no one in the group can dive into the kids’ pool.’

Suzi nudged me, ‘Bella, you’re an excellent diver.’

She was right; if there was one thing I was good at, it was diving. My hand shot up over my head.

I stood, readjusted my bikini bottoms and made my way towards the pool to size up the depth. I’d never attempted a dive in a metre of water before. My instincts told me to back away, but when I turned my head and saw Max’s sky-blue eyes on me, there was no turning back.

I wiped my hot sweaty hands across my bikini bottoms and shook them by my side until I felt the tips of my fingers tingle. I reached up and tied my long blonde hair in a tight knot, then took up my position at the end of the kids’ pool, my toes slightly over the edge.

No one encouraged me to abort the dive. I took a long, deep breath. The chatting stopped. I turned to Suzi to see her mouth agape.

I turned my focus to the crystal-clear water ahead and bent my knees. The words ‘belly flop’ went through my mind, a safe option with a slight sting, but as I sprinted off the edge, I dropped my head.
***
I woke to a nurse telling my father that I was lucky to be alive. They had been able to save my two front teeth, and later my nose could be straightened with surgery.

Soon after returning home from hospital, Suzie came around and told me that Max thought that I was pretty, but dumb to attempt the dive. I agreed.

Education is the key to understanding the importance of discussing organ donation with your parents.

By Bella M