Man, I am never completing something before posting it again. You guys are making some daaaamn good points and fix-ups.

I was in a medically-induced for four weeks following the accident. My injuries had been ‘bad’ but they were soon made worse from an infection I picked up in hospital. One thing apparently led to another until I was in intensive care and everyone was called in to say their final goodbyes.

Rather obviously, when I was taken from my medically induced coma, I was more or less stable and completely unaware of the drama that had ensued. It was my doctor who filled me in on the news.

‘Wait, wait, where is Ahmet?’ I interrupted, suddenly stricken with fear. What if he was dead? Or seriously injured?

‘The foreign man who was driving at the time of the accident? I’m afraid I don’t know. All I know is that he was released after two days.’

‘Is he okay?’

‘He was when he was discharged.’ The doctor paused. ‘Maybe you should ask your family these questions. All I can help you with is the medical issues at hand.’

‘Oh.’ I sank back into the pillow. I’d been conscious for half an hour and already I was exhausted. My lips and mouth felt dry and crusty and my head was pounding. ‘Whatever.’

The doctor proceeded to tell me I had a broken leg, fractured ribs, and a lot of internal injuries which, thankfully, were on the mend. My infection had cleared two days ago and the prognosis was sound.

After he left, I lay in bed pondering my life and drifting in and out of consciousness. I must have fallen asleep because a nurse came in at around four in the afternoon and told me I had a visitor.

‘Don’t get too excited, it’s only me,’ Lee announced. ‘How are you feeling? Shit?’

‘Shit,’ I agreed.

Lee drew up a chair and inspected me. ‘I can’t believe you’re alive. Did they tell you that you died? They bought you back to life.’

‘They said I nearly died, but they didn’t tell me I actually did. How long was I dead for?’

‘A couple of minutes. Did you see God?’

‘Nope.’

‘Hell?’

‘Nope.’

‘Sweet. I’m going to rub that in Ben and Teagan’s faces.’

‘You asked me if I saw God only so you could tell our siblings that their faith is misplaced?’

‘They tell me I’m going to hell,’ he protested.

‘You listen to a fourteen and twelve year old?’

‘Teagan’s thirteen now. You were unconscious for her birthday.’

‘Fine, you listen to a fourteen and thirteen year old?’

Lee smirked. ‘You don’t enjoy stirring them up?’

I thought about it. ‘Well, sometimes,’ I admitted.

Lee cackled with laughter. I smiled, and chewed at a scab on my bottom lip. The skin came away and I spat it onto my finger and flicked it away. Nasty, yes, but I was too tired to look around for a tissue.

‘Ahmet went back to Turkey,’ Lee said.

My heart sank. ‘Oh.’

‘He gave me his phone number and address. He said you can call him whenever you like. He was really upset about the accident.’ Lee paused. ‘You missed a ton of bullshit drama while you were unconscious. Ahmet’s family came up, and they and Ahmet and Michael and Ben had a massive argument in the hospital cafeteria.’

‘Did anyone hit anyone?’

Lee shook his head. ‘Nah. They were just yelling at each other. Ahmet wanted to see you and Michael and Ahmet’s mother were telling him to go away, and then Ben jumped into the argument, and then Ahmet’s father backed up Ben…you get the idea. The hospital administration ended up kicking them all out.’

My family is so classy.

‘So did Ahmet end up coming in to see me?’

Lee actually looked sympathetic. ‘No. A couple of days later he rang me and said his family had booked him a ticket to Istanbul. He said to call if your condition got worse.’ Lee picked at a loose threat on his shirt. ‘I didn’t ring him when they thought you were dying. I figured there wasn’t much he’d be able to do about it.’

I shrugged. ‘That’s okay. Do you still have his number?’

‘Yeah. Here it is.’

I spent the next two days becoming accustomed to consciousness, the incredible amount of pain I was in, physiotherapy, guests, and eating food via my mouth. I’d lost a lot of weight while I was ill, and I had scars all over my stomach and chest. My right leg was in a cast, I had more staples in me than I cared to think about, and peeing was incredibly painful.

Ahmet’s number remained in my side table. I tried calling him a few times, but each time the phone rang out. I wasn’t surprised; I was calling during their working day, and it wasn’t reasonable to expect Ahmet to be home.

After three days of attempts, I finally got through to someone. The man answered the phone in Turkish, and when I hesitantly asked for Ahmet, he immediately demanded to know who I was.

‘Um, Will. I’m in Australia.’

The reply was in some of the worst English I’ve ever come across. The gist of it seemed to be that Ahmet was in the kitchen, cooking, but if I stayed on the line, he would get Ahmet for me.

‘Um, that would be good’ I replied timidly.

Talking to a camp Turk with crappy English on a bad line is not an easy job. Talking to Ahmet’s roommate or friend or lover or whoever the hell he was, I began to wonder why it was I’d ever thought Ahmet’s father’s accent was difficult to understand.

‘Here is Ahmet,’ the man finally said, cheerfully.

I could hear the phone change hands, and a short conversation in Turkish, before Ahmet finally picked up the phone.

‘Hi,’ I whispered.

‘Will?’

He sounded so hopeful my heart melted.

‘Yeah. Do you mind me calling?’

‘Oh no. No, no, no.’

I laughed nervously. ‘Your accent is really strong.’

‘Can you understand me?’

‘Yeah, you just sound really different. The other guy I was speaking to was hard to understand. Who is he? Your boyfriend?’

‘My boyfriend?’ Ahmet laughed. ‘No. I don’t have a boyfriend in Turkey. I had one in Australia, but I don’t know if he still wants me.’

I didn’t get it. ‘You had a boyfriend here?’

‘Yes, you, silly.’

I blushed. ‘Oh, me. I wasn’t sure…nevermind. Um, I still…well, do you still want to see me?’

‘Are you teasing me? No, you can’t be. You don’t tease. I’ll send you a ticket. When do you want to come over? A week?’

He was thrilled. My own spirits lifted dramatically. Oh my God, he wanted me still, he wanted me. Even after my behaviour with Mohammed, and my family arguing with him, he still wanted to see me.

‘I’m going to be in hospital another week.’ I pointed out cautiously. ‘Maybe in a month or so. I’ll need to see how much money I have.’

His voice fell flat. ‘You’re in hospital?’ he questioned, confused.

‘Um, yes. I had an infection. They said I’ve been here four weeks. They only took me out of the coma a few days ago, and I’ve been trying to get my head together. I called you as soon as I could.’

Ahmet didn’t reply.

‘Ahmet?’

‘I’m so sorry. Will, I’ve never been in an accident before, or even had an ticket.’

‘It’s okay. You’re a pretty bad driver. It was bound to happen.’

Ahmet didn’t get my joke. ‘You think I’m a bad driver?’

I said ‘no’ even though the answer was actually ‘hell yes’. I knew if I said the latter he’d remind me about my drunk riding, my speeding tickets and my lane splitting. Plus, he’d think I was blaming him and I wasn’t, not really. Theoretically he had been driving and was the one who’d lost control, but I didn’t want him to feel guilty about it. These things happened.

‘Maybe when you’re out of hospital you could visit Turkey,’ Ahmet suggested. ‘I have a job here. I have a business with a man I studied dentistry with.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘A dentist business. What do you call it there, a dentist practice? I could never remember the stupid, small things.’

‘Yes, that’s it.’

We both fell quiet. I mulled things over for a bit. Despite his obvious guilt over my situation, Ahmet sounded way happier than he had while he was in Australia.

‘Ahmet…is it going to be okay for me in Turkey?’

‘Of course.’

‘Of course?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be okay?’ he questioned. ‘You could get a job teaching English.’

My heart thudded. ‘I wouldn’t be able to stay forever.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because…Turkey would probably kick me out.’

‘No they wouldn’t. Lots of foreigners come here.’

‘Maybe one day they’ll kick me out.’

‘I don’t think so. Turkey isn’t Australia.’

I twisted the phone cord around my fingers. ‘I love you.’

Ahmet babbled off something in Turkish.

‘What?’ I asked, confused.

‘You’re so bad with my language,’ he reprimanded gently, lightly. ‘You’ll have to learn when you get here.’

‘It’s so hot.’ I stated.

‘It’s summer,’ Michael pointed out.

He carried my bags inside, which was good, because even with a walking cast, I was frigging useless. My muscles were seriously wasted.

Ben’s cat followed us inside and down the hallway to the spare bedroom. It had been my bedroom once, just as Ben’s tiny little sleepout had also once been my room. It was weird coming back to my old ‘home’. Every time I came back it seemed different, as the furniture and smells and mess reflected its latest set of occupants. Still, there was some degree of comfort in returning.

‘Mahir offered to let you live with him,’ Michael said.

‘I didn’t realize that,’ I replied, annoyed. Trust Michael and Brett to keep this pertinent piece of information to themselves until it was too late for me to comment.

‘He rang a few days ago. He said you’d been in contact with Ahmet, and that you’d made plans to go to Istanbul.’

‘Um, yes.’

Michael stared at me. ‘Are you planning on staying there permanently?’

‘Um…I don’t know.’ I lied.

Mike pulled a face. ‘Oh God, you are.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why on earth would you be sorry? I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ll miss you.’

I was touched. ‘You can visit whenever you want. Ahmet wouldn’t mind. His family visit non-stop.’

‘I doubt Ahmet would be overjoyed if I showed up on his doorstep.’ Mike replied, heading back down the hallway and to the kitchen. ‘Do you want lunch?’

I replied in the affirmative, dropped my bags, and went to the kitchen. I wasn’t tired, but I was certainly hungry.

Someone knocked at the door and I glanced over. You could see the front screen door from my seat at the kitchen table.

‘Tom,’ I said, dumbstruck.

‘Hi Will.’ He blushed. ‘Sorry. I know it’s been a long time…’

I got up and walked over to let him in. ‘Come in.’

‘Is this a bad time?’

‘No, I just came home from hospital.’

‘You only just got home?’

‘Yeah, but it’s cool. Come in.’

I hadn’t seen Tom in months, not since we’d broken up. Well, that’s not true; I’d seen him on television, but I’d always looked away. I knew Ahmet would be jealous if I pointed him out. Not being mean to Ahmet or anything, but Tom has a really hot body.

‘Hi Tom,’ Michael greeted. ‘Want a sandwich?’

Despite his awesomely hot body, Tom gets incredibly uncomfortable if anyone actually checks him out. Straight bodybuilders telling him his hamstrings are looking good is okay, gay men leering at him is not. And Michael, to be perfectly blunt, is always leering at Tom. It makes for some uncomfortable situations.

‘A salad one on wholemeal would be great.’ Tom replied, sitting far too close to me for an ex-boyfriend.

I nudged his arm. It was smooth and muscley, not at all like Ahmet’s arms. Ahemt had regular man arms, and they were covered in dark hair. It was a massive difference. ‘You don’t need to sit on top of me,’ I whispered. ‘Michael won’t hit on you.’

Michael obviously overheard, because he laughed. ‘Tom, when are you going to get used to men staring at you?’

Tom shifted his chair away from me. His face was bright red. ‘I’m used to it,’ he protested. ‘Kind of.’

I cast a grin at my ex-boyfriend. ‘Have you got a new boyfriend yet?’

‘No.’

‘Seriously? How many guys have you dated?’

‘Will, I haven’t dated anyone,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m busy training and competing and doing all the things I need to do to keep my sponsorship.’

‘I’ve seen you on television,’ I acknowledged. ‘I was really excited at one of them and I was just about to grab Ahmet and tell him you were my ex, when I figured he might not be very impressed.’

‘Oh, I met Ahmet at the hospital,’ Tom said. ‘It was a few days after the accident. Brett called me and told me you’d been hurt, and when I came in, he was being released. He seemed really nice. He said he was very sorry about the accident and all of the trouble he’d caused.’

I nodded my head. ‘He is really nice. I’m going to go over to Istanbul soon to see him.’

‘It’s not like you’re eager to go or anything,’ Michael interrupted as he held out two plates. ‘Your sandwiches, guys.’

Tom and I took our sandwiches. Michael grabbed his lunch and sat down at the table with us. He raised an eyebrow cheekily at Tom, who blushed guiltily. I inwardly groaned. Michael would never tire of leering and Tom would never stop getting embarrassed about it.

‘So, can you speak any Turkish?’ Tom asked.

‘Nope. All I can say is ‘I love you’ and ‘What time is it’ and I only learned those because Ahmet kept pestering me.’

We laughed at my honesty.