Epilogue

Nurse Wright hesitated before entering the sun-room. Zac was sitting by the window, gazing out over the empty parking lot. His withered arm rested in his lap. He'd been sitting there all day, hadn't touched his meals, patiently waiting for the sight of his brother's car, coming to take him home.
Zac had been progressing rapidly ever since he'd handed her the letter to send. He was communicating with her in a rudimentary, but ever expanding set of gestures. His therapists were amazed at how fast he was moving, after five years of almost nothing. She knew he'd actually started trying, once he'd realised that he would be allowed to go home. There was a certain . . . glow, about him that hadn't been there before. It had been whispered in her ear that perhaps Zac Hanson, who had turned eighteen not two months beforehand, was going to be alright after all.
How could she tell him?
Hearing the squeak of her white-soled shoes on the tiles, Zac hastily turned, craning to look over her shoulder, to see if Tay was there. Seeing that he was not, Zac turned hopeful eyes on the Nurse. Maybe Tay was waiting downstairs, and he just hadn't seen the car. Maybe Tay'd parked on the road, hadn't come into the parking lot at all.
His eagerness was almost more than Nurse Wright could take. Trying to compose herself, she pulled up a chair, sat opposite him.
"Zac, have you been waiting for your brother here all day?" concern was what she was most familiar with, she used it to hide her anxiety. She was answered with an enthusiastic nod. "Well . . . um . . . the Matron, took a call from your parents this morning . . . I. . . ." she could see the confusion settling in on Zac's face, "Do you remember Dr Parlan? You know, the doctor who came to see you last week?" again she received a nod in answer, but this one was much more reserved, more cautious. "Well . . . apparently, he was sent to examine your condition jointly by a judge, and your family. He . . . his job was to see whether you . . . whether it was safe, for you to go home," his expression had gone strangely blank. Almost as if he couldn't hear her at all. "Your parents called today, to pass on Dr Parlan's assessment to the Matron . . . I . . . well . . . the doctor thinks . . . he thinks you still need to be looked after professionally, that you wouldn't be safe anywhere else. . . ." Nurse Wright was having a hard time keeping her voice steady, "Your parents think it would be best for everyone involved, if you stayed here for a while longer," the stare he turned on her was painfully entreating; he wouldn't accept it until she said it. Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, the Nurse forced herself to speak, "I'm so sorry Zac, you can't go home," a single tear worked its way down his cheek before he reacted.
He smiled and nodded.
They'd lost him.


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