Caim

by T. S. Simons

  'I will,' I whispered, my promise as much to myself and my children as to her. 'I will never let them win.'

  'And Frey?'

  'Hmm?'

  'If you get the chance and you can't save me, promise me you will save yourself.'

  I didn't know how to respond to that. Leaving my best friend behind was simply not an option. But finally, I murmured, 'You too.'

  Medical staff visited several times each day, checking our temperature, lifting our gowns and subjecting us to indignities that no woman should face.

  'It is like a daily pap smear, isn't it?' I said to Illy one morning as she endured her physical exam and single injection, and I was injected with my morning cocktail. Rarely did the staff speak to us, treat us like we were people. Usually, we distracted each other by making pointed, rude remarks about the medical team. Sometimes they reacted. More often they ignored us.

  'We really are pieces of meat,' I sighed as they checked me over. 'But I feel like cheap sausages instead of prime steak. I wonder if they treated my sister like this? Daily examinations to see if she was fertile.'

  'Yes, so humanising, isn't it? Makes you realise how far we have come as a species when we treat each other like this.'

  'Well, I don't know about you, but I am quite enjoying having someone wipe my arse for me.'

  Illy sniggered. 'It is the ultimate in decadence, isn't it? Though, if they are to market this place as a luxury resort, they need to work on the phrase, "It is time to move your bowels." Surely we can come up with something a little more glamourous.'

  'What, like, "It is time to shit ladies? Would you please oblige?'

  We both laughed hysterically, making the nurse charged with the task flush with embarrassment.

  'At least we can drop one on command now,' I shot over to her when I could regain control of my laughter. 'We have evolved as a species.'

  'Well, if we have evolved, can they give me a pedicure?' Illy strained her neck to study her feet. 'My nails are horribly neglected.'

  'Well, I need a leg wax. They feel like a forest!'

  Illy laughed. 'You'd never survive in the Army!'

  'Likely not,' I confessed. 'Why, were all the women hairy-legged?'

  'Of course not! It was like any other workplace. Unless we were on exercises. Then showers and razors were a luxury. But it wasn't about that. It was about team building, camaraderie, solving problems collectively. God, I miss it.'

  'Do you have a solution to our current problem?' I asked hopefully.

  'Working on it, my friend. Working on it.'

  'Got a nail file or some other useful tool in your handbag, darling?' Illy drawled after lunch several days later. 'Did you bring the monogrammed Louis Vuitton?'

  'Of course not, sweetie. I needed to choose between my Chanel, Bally, and Prada for this trip. Couldn't work out what went best with my outfit. White is so hard to accessorise.'

  Illy roared with laughter. 'Nothing went with a khaki uniform, let me tell you!'

  'It was such a thing where I lived. Prada. Bally. Gucci. Monogrammed Chanel. Even a limited-edition Spencer and Rutherford.'

  'But not Louis Vuitton?'

  'Never. Too many fakes. I remember a girl at school getting a personalised one. The bitches teased her mercilessly for being a try-hard.'

  'What did you have?'

  'Hedgren. Cheap, basic, functional. Much to my friends' disgust. You would think I carried a dirty street bag the way they looked at it. Though my mother had a Hermes handbag, a gift from my father. She made sure everyone knew it too. She stored it in a soft white cloth bag. Polished it. I think she might have been prouder of that bag than she was of me. You?'

  'When I went out and wasn't in uniform, just a basic black crossbody bag. I don't think it even had a brand name, or if it did, I didn't know it. Just came from a department store.'

  'Boutiques is where we shopped, darling,' I overemphasised the posh accent of my parents and their friends. 'You got personalised treatment. It was all about the service. I'm utterly embarrassed now by how many pairs of shoes I owned. The enormous wardrobe full of clothes, most of which I never wore. But shopping was a pastime when you have money—spending it, a social activity. Now I live in the same clothes day in and day out, and I am so much happier. Well, I was,' I corrected, looking around the stark room that had been our home for ten days. 'I would never have believed it, but I don't miss those things at all. I think of all the clothing I left behind just mouldering away into nothing.'

  'Once, I watched a documentary on disposable fashion and the impact on the earth. It was horrifying how much textile and fabric ended up in landfill.'

  'Think of all of those things we owned, everything we thought we loved. Yet we walked away, and I can honestly say, I haven't thought of it since.' I paused, remembering. 'Is there any one thing you wish to have back?'

  Illy fell silent for the longest time. 'My cats. My parents. Luca. They are the only things I long for. I still hear them, my parents and Luca. I used to see a shadow coming around a corner and think it is Max or Lily. But as for objects… well… at times, there are things I wish I still had. When you are in a rush, and you wish you had a car. When you want a quiet night with your partner and wish you had a TV to entertain the kids. When you are churning cream for butter and wish you had a KitchenAid. But it is people my heart aches for, not things. You?'

  'My sister. But I have missed her for a very long time. My parents too, I guess, but not as much.'

  'I think that is the first time I have ever heard you say that. Have you forgiven them for what they did?'

  'Maybe. They did what they thought best. They couldn't have known. Likely they would have taken Kat even without consent. The truth is, I was angry with my parents from the time they committed her. Made her someone else's problem.'

  'They didn't have the skills to look after her Frey. She needed around the clock care.'

  'They had the resources. They could have paid for a nurse, let her be in her home. Comfortable, in a familiar place, and surrounded by things she loved.'

  'Would you really have wanted that? The shell of your sister, wasting away in her bedroom? Not wanting to bring friends or boyfriends home in case they were freaked out by the living corpse in the next room? It kind of puts a dampener on a new relationship, doesn't it? "Hi honey, can you just get a condom? Top drawer in the bathroom. Oh, and don't disturb my comatose sister in the next room!'

  'I never took boyfriends home,' I confessed.

  'Why? Didn't they approve?'

  'Because I rarely had relationships. Some lasted a few months—most just single nights. But I didn't have a long-term boyfriend as such. Not until Cam.'

  'What made you stick around then? You said that you only took him to the hot springs as a friend with benefits. He told you about his anxiety, and you figured he wouldn't blab to other people if you got it on. What changed?'

  'He made me feel safe, emotionally, I mean. I had never felt that before. My parents loved me, but the way Cam treated me… I knew he was the one from the first time. It was him. It was always him.'

  'Luca protected me in a way I didn't know I needed,' Illy whispered, tears choking her. 'Like you, I can take care of myself. But he was so solid. So dependable. He completed me.'

  'Exactly.'

  'I will get you back to him, Frey. I promise.'

  As I closed my eyes, I could see him, as I always did, the last time we had been together. Lying there, his organs exposed, like a rat dissection, minus the labels. Please, please still be alive, I prayed silently, guilt making me flush. How could I say this in front of Illy? Luca was dead. Cam may or may not be. Consciously, I focused my mind on Sorcha. She was as wilful as anyone I had ever met. She wouldn't let him die. Sorcha was the type of woman to have a list of people to haunt when she died. But, I reminded myself, she had lost two partners. Cam had told me about Sam, her fiancé in Melbourne, and Tom, her partner on Kiewa. Even Sorcha co
uldn't stave off death. It was Laetitia who flitted into my mind without warning. Please. Help me, I begged her. Help me save Louis and Cam. She turned like she hadn't heard me, and I saw her long dark brown hair flowing in waves over her shoulders as she looked out to sea. Peaceful, but silent.

  Each morning started the same. Lights switched on, forcing us into alertness. With no windows and no clocks, our bodies adjusted to the artificial light they exposed us to. Catheter bag changed, allowed a small breakfast, fed to us, sponge bath. Not once had they removed the restraints, only lengthened the metal chain to enable us to move slightly, avoiding bedsores. Illy and I had plotted what to do if they ever removed them, but that option hadn't presented itself, although several times each day, I tested them. This morning only one tray of food had been brought in and carried over to Illy.

  'Starving me now?' I asked caustically.

  Dale ignored me but flashed a vicious grin. He fed Illy, slopping most of the food onto her breasts. Illy responded with her characteristic calmness, smiling at him as he groped her. Returning the spoon to the now empty tray, he wheeled me to a large operating theatre, deliberately pinching my skin against the rails, gouging me with his fingernails. Still restrained, I gazed up at the large white light of the well-lit room. Gleaming stainless steel medical equipment of all types lined the walls. But there was a window here, and some natural light. Trying to sit up, I strained to see out of it, but couldn't see past the trees and bushes growing in a garden bed under the window. Trees made me think of Cam, and I closed my eyes so I could erase the image of his face. Not now. I couldn't think of him now… not whilst this happened.

  The team spoke to each other, over me, but not to me as they arranged ultrasound machines, trolleys of equipment were brought to my bedside. A tight-fitting mask was placed over my face, and the gas burned the back of my throat. I fought to keep my eyes open, straining against the wooziness that threatened to engulf me, trying to maintain control, but blackness descended, and my head rolled back.

  I regained consciousness in a white, windowless room, so tiny I could have touched the walls if I wasn't restrained. A monitor bleeped beside my head, and a woman arrived, perfunctorily checking on me but not really on me. She just needed to confirm I had regained consciousness after the anaesthetic. My stomach ached where they had used needles to extract my eggs. The cramping pain proof I was now barren. Raided. But I couldn't even reach my hands to massage my stomach. Fighting back the tears, I remembered my promise to Illy. I would never give up.

  As I lay there in that tiny room, my mind whirred. Why me? I kept wondering. While Illy had endured the same initial tests, it was only me they kept pumping full of drugs. Yesterday morning, an additional one. Initially, we had assumed that my cycle was at a more logical point, but as the days dragged on, they seemed more focused on me. Illy believed it was because she was a few years older than me, nearly forty. But it was punishment; I knew. Retribution for me killing Katrin. I was the priority so they could regain what they had lost. Illy was just the innocent bystander.

  Drifting in and out of consciousness, I saw Cam's face watching me, worried. Please be okay. I sent the silent message out to the universe. I could endure almost anything if he was alive. Eventually, as the dizziness wore off, the nurse fed me quartered sandwiches and injected pain relief. Illy watched me carefully as she returned me to the shared room. Rearranging my face, I tried for reassurance.

  'I'm back! Did you miss me?'

  Illy instantly saw through the facade. 'Oh, Frey. I am so, so sorry.'

  A single tear cracked through my ice queen mask. 'I'm fine,' I assured her, wiping it discreetly with my shoulder.

  Illy kept up a steady stream of chatter. Inane things. The kids schooling, her cats' escapades and weeding the garden. It didn't help. I could envisage with immense detail what they had done to me while I was unconscious. Things they would have said about me. How they treated me. The finger-shaped bruises I could see on my thighs irrefutable proof that they hadn't been gentle. Payback for all the acerbic remarks I had flung their way each day. I could hear Illy's words ringing in my ears, "The only real power you have is the way you respond." Break all of their noses is how I wanted to respond.

  Illy sneezed, violently and unexpectedly.

  I turned to look at her and winced, my stomach cramping from the recent assault.

  'Are you okay? Not getting sick? I can't imagine they would make you hot toddies and blow your nose for you.'

  'I'm fine,' Illy smiled at me, knowing that I was just trying to keep my mind off the day's events.

  'As long as you are okay. I'm not really in a position to help.'

  'Luca used to tease me incessantly when I sneezed,' she admitted.

  Tilting my head to look at her, I asked in astonishment, 'Why on earth would he tease you for that? I mean, he used to tease me about many things. Called me Elsa, princess, used to change clocks on me so I would think I had woken at midday. Left a frog in my bed. Even cling wrapped my toilet once. Enormous clown he was.'

  Illy flushed, and I stared at her.

  'What?' I asked.

  'It's… it's nothing,' she stammered, looking away.

  Now I was intrigued. 'Ok, I have just been plundered for my eggs so they can steal my children while you had a leisurely breakfast. You owe me this.'

  Illy mumbled, and I could barely make out the words.

  'I sneeze when I am thinking about… pleasuring myself.'

  I snorted, then gasped. 'Is that what you were doing just now?'

  'No!' she squealed. 'Of course not. That was just a sneeze.'

  'What do you mean, you sneeze when you think about alone time? Seriously? Is that even a thing?'

  'No clue. It could just be me. It took me years to work it out. I should never have told him, of course. Luca thought it hysterical, and as soon as I sneezed, or even looked like I was going to sneeze, he would tease me mercilessly about how he wasn't man enough, and I needed lady time.'

  'Lady time? Is that what he called it?'

  'He did.' Illy's voice was brimming with mirth. 'But he used to say it in that taunting faux feminine tone of his. "Sunshine, am I letting you down again? Do you need some special lady time?'

  Closing my eyes, I could picture Luca teasing me. An enormous hulk of a man, putting on a fake girly voice, tossing his head around and ridiculing me about brushing my hair, or shaving my legs when we were in the middle of nowhere, for no one to see.

  'I miss him so much, Ils.'

  'Well, one thing is for sure, I will need a rabbit when we get home.'

  'A rabbit? Aren't two cats enough?'

  Illy laughed raucously. 'Oh God, you are so innocent sometimes. I mean, we will need to visit a sex shop if we make it to Edinburgh.'

  'Ohhh….' I blushed, realising what she meant. Quietly I added, 'You might meet someone else.'

  'No. I don't want to. I had one great love, and that is enough.'

  'Cam got two,' I pointed out, 'Sorcha had three. Maybe you will as well.'

  'No.' Illy's tone was resolute. 'No one will ever measure up. It wouldn't be fair. Sometimes I think perhaps he did so much living in his forty years that his candle burned out faster than most.'

  'I like that. Luca as a candle. He glowed brighter than most, but man could he burn you.'

  'Did I ever tell you that Luca loved the Dixie Chicks?' I announced several days after my surgery, as the daily injections recommenced. It was getting harder to keep up our morale. Each day I was subjected to more degrading tests and examinations. We tried to support each other, chat about inane things. But there is only so much you can say when you are held against your will, with your best friend, knowing it is all your fault.

  'Seriously?'

  'Well, okay, maybe loved is taking it a bit far. When we were travelling, we stopped at Kerguelen a few times. The team there loved karaoke. One night, Luca belted out "Wide Open Spaces", impeccably, with perfect pitch. It w
as impressive, I have to admit.'

  Illy giggled. 'Oh, I wish I had seen that. He never mentioned it.'

  'He was stinking drunk, but I never let him forget it. He denied it all the next day. He claims he didn't know the song. But he sang it, word for word, from memory, complete with Southern twang. It was hilarious.'

  'He used to sing to the girls. Lots of different songs. Goodness, they loved it when he sang. He had the most wonderful ability to mimic different singers, even women.'

  'I remember him singing to you at your wedding, "You Are the Sunshine of My Life." There wasn't a dry eye. Every woman wanted him that day. Probably some of the men, too. Cam can't sing at all!' I laughed. 'He tries, but he is off-key and off-pitch. It got to the point where the kids just told him to stop. He tried to act offended, but he was relieved to no longer have that burden. Even Happy Birthday was painful.'

  'I wondered why I had never heard him sing. Is he tone-deaf?'

  'I don't think so. He just can't sing. But I don't know a lot about music. My parents enrolled me in violin lessons as a child, and I hated it. They forced me for a few years but finally let it go.'

  'Why did they force you?'

  'It was expected, darling. They expected us to learn how to do all the important things a lady does in society. Play tennis, swim, play hockey, sail, ski—all without breaking a sweat, chipping a nail or letting her mascara run. Play an instrument for company was one of those expectations. Kat was luckier than me. She asked for piano, and they agreed. She was quite talented. I think that is why they let me drop it. Kat was a good musician and artist. I was the sporty one. I can barely draw a stick figure.'

  'I played netball,' Illy mused. 'I was small and quick. I desperately wanted to play goals. All the tall girls got to play goals. I was too short, of course, but at nine, I didn't realise that. I cried to my mother that they never let me.'