Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

saw him grab the back of his flannel shirt collar and wrench him backward to the ground. The guy scrambled to his feet and rushed toward Drew, staying low as if in a rugby maul. Next thing I saw his head fling back, his legs collapse and the back of his head hit the pavement, blood spilling from his punched nose. Drew's foot stopped him as he attempted to get up. He pressed the guy's chest down, leaned over and pointed his finger close to the twit's face. Drew yelled, letting everyone now standing nearby hear him, "If I ever see or hear of you bullying him again, I'll rip into your ugly face so much, you'll never want to look at a mirror for the rest of your decrepit life. Understand? And if I hear one of your gutless, scumbag mates do it I'll come after him and you. Got it? Make sure your useless mates get the message. Now, roll over."
    The guy seemed scared and turned without resisting. Drew picked him up by his waist belt and throat, carried him and dropped him to the ground in front of me, his knees smacking the pavement. Drew smashed his foot onto the guy's back, pressing him to the ground and in the same loud voice, sneered, "Grovel like a dog, bully boy. Apologise by saying 'I'm sorry, Alex'. Say it!" Seconds passed without a sound from the punk, prompting Drew to grab a clump of his hair to jerk his head back, shouting, "I can't hear you bully boy. Apologise!"
    Without waiting or warning, Drew smashed his forehead into the pavement with his foot. The guy screamed and started bawling, his fingers clawing the concrete, repeating between his howls, "I'm sorry, Alex, I'm sorry."
    "That's better," Drew yelled. "Now get out of here, you gutless wonder, and remember my warning."
    I recognised the guy when he rose and stumbled away, and mentioned to Drew of my years of his torment at school. "Karma," he said, a word I didn't know, but got the drift of its meaning.
    "Yes, karma," I whispered, as Drew glared after him and I stared at Drew, my emotions fermenting in pride and passion.
    "C'mon," he said as he placed his arm around my shoulder, "let's go get our Easter eggs."
    ****
    Thirty minutes later, I led Drew to my old ward, sweeping around the corner of the office straight into Nurse Nolan, En, as I called her towards the end of my stay there. In no time I found myself pulled against her ample upper cushioning, releasing me and sitting me down to inspect all the repairs, giving me a thumbs up. We laughed and each of us gave her a large boxed egg assortment and asked if Angie was around. Soon, at midday, she told us, which gave us time to walk around the wards, giving small eggs and chocolate bilbies to the kids and medium eggs to the adults and other nursing staff.
    When midday came, each of us had one large deluxe-box left with an Easter card from us, for the special nurse we loved. She streamed around the corner in her usual hasty style and stopped, mouth open, staring at us, our legs sexily spread in front of our chairs facing the entrance. "Alex! Drew!" she cried, before quickly spanning the distance to embrace us. We helped her serve the lunches and then managed a yarn before she started her routine duties. We left, after twisting her arm to have dinner with us, picking her up at eight-forty-five at her home.
    She asked if her cousin, Brad, from Bathurst, who was staying for the weekend, could come along, saying we're bound to like him. "As long as he's broadminded," I said. She assured us not to worry, as she'd mentioned us to him on a few occasions and he wanted to meet us. That clarified some indistinct comment she said in the hospital. When we left, I laughed to myself, waiting to see the look on her face when she hears the real cause of those white spots tonight.
    "We'd better book a table at a restaurant," Drew suggested.
    ****
    "Brad, will you answer the door please, Hon?"
    "Sure, Princess."
    Every time I now see a person in a wheelchair, I feel sad at their misfortune. The sudden, unexpected encounter of meeting Brad sitting in one, hit harder, causing a mild tremble and momentary difficulty to reply when he extended his hand, saying in a happy, light-hearted voice, "Hi, I'm Brad." Fortunately, Drew stood in for me.
    "Hello Brad, I'm Drew, and my friend, Alex."
    "Heya, guys, come in," he said, reversing his wheels, "and have a drink, while Angie exercises her privilege to be late… as usual." We laughed, as he spun and headed for the fridge. "What would you like?" he called, returning with a Tooheys