by David Louden
Dear Mr. Morgan,
As of the morning of the 13th June 2006 we would request that you vacate the premises of the Lost Angeles International Hostel, Venice CA. The staff at the location have documented several incidents of late that they deem unsuitable and unacceptable. The remainder of your balance will be used against the cost of cleaning. Should you fail to do so the necessary authorities will have to be notified.
Gareth Harper,
Bookings Manager
Lost Angeles, CA
Andrei had obviously been privy to the contents of the letter as he had bought a deck of Marlboro Reds, he had been smoking mine for weeks, he gave me a cigarette which I smoked still working up the courage to make the call. I phoned Billie, it went straight to voicemail. I binned one pair of jeans, one tee shirt and the suit jacket before showering, putting on another pair of jeans, white tee shirt and packing up the other five in a small bag before leaving Lost Angeles for the last time.
22
DANNY HAD MOVED out of our Eglantine apartment. It had been an eventful week; he had come out to us on the Monday, introduced us to his new boyfriend on Wednesday and by Friday had moved his belongings back to his parent’s house in North Belfast while he prepared to move to Arizona with his new rugged dreamboat. Friday night had seen a kamikaze blow out at the Botanic Inn, not my favourite bar but hell it wasn’t my leaving party.
Janie and I had become close friends of late. She’d have me round to her house to the whisper of her University roommates; we’d eat Thai, drink Italian and talk shit until the first glimpses of dark blue in the night sky lightened signalling the dawning of a new day. Janie would rush to bed and more often than not I would crash on her floor rather than brave the hour long walk home. Her sound was distinctive, by the fifth step leading to our apartment door I could tell it was her though her knock was different. Slow and steady breathing stopped me from being violently sick as I staggered from my newly acquired bedroom and to our apartment door. The knocking continued and seemingly accompanied by something else. I open the door; Janie is in floods of tears. Something was wrong.
I point to Alvin who’s popped an inquisitive head into the green hallway to see what all the commotion was about. Alvin could be as inappropriate as I was but he didn’t seem to understand emotions or facial expressions, for the most part I enjoyed this about him. I even supposed he was on the spectrum but now wasn’t the time. Guiding Janie into the living room I set her down on the couch before grabbing a pair of tracksuit bottoms from a clothes horse which weren’t mine and put them on. I figure whatever’s wrong needs to be faced without the threat of my balls slipping out of my underwear the moment I sit down.
Her tears were constant and choking. Her eyes red, her face almost black from running mascara and her speech unstructured, inaudible and frantic. I bring her a coffee, black with one sugar. I wasn’t sure how she likes it, it dawned on me that we had never really had coffee so I made it the way I liked it. She took the mug from me. It was the same mug that Mary had clocked me with. Her hands shook from the convulsions in her chest as she raised the mug to her lips scolding her hand. She barely noticed. Steadying her hand with mine I knelt in front of her and tried to calm her breathing. Slowly the choking steadied and slowed, her breathing became controllable. Even her eyes stopped flowing.
“Janie darlin, what’s wrong?” I ask.
I could see the cogs work as Janie began formulating a response, immediately and violently she erupted again. This time louder and with more unpredictable breathing than before. I took a seat beside her, placing my arm around her shoulder and simply held her. It took an hour to calm her down this time.
Janie was in the bathroom fixing her face; I rummaged in my new room looking for my box of clothes. I had Danny’s room and was yet to unpack. All I had was Richard’s tracksuit bottoms and the clothing I had wore to Danny’s going away party the night before. I leap into the sweat and tobacco scented denim and tee shirt and threw my boots on. My stomach was a violent sea of nausea, the fear in my blood was preventing any task with the smallest amount of thought required from being achievable. The shock was still too fresh for fear, sorrow and the pain that would soon live in my chest to set in. The shock was as though someone had spiked my system. I was no longer in control of my heart or head.
Janie had gotten a call from her parents to let her know they were going to be in Belfast and would like to meet up. She had considered this to be weird. Though they were a close family they never simply met up for anything and they were never, ever, simply in Belfast. For a moment Janie had thought that her mum was sick again but her voice was different to the last time that a family meeting was called. She arrived at Tess’s house were the majority of the family sat awkwardly as they waited for someone to say something, to initiate the reason why they were all there. The mystery would be the last moment of serenity that Janie should have savoured. Miriam took her husband’s hand and a jump into the words she had rehearsed over and over on the drive up.
“Ok so there’s only one real way,” Miriam falters “I mean…Kelly. Kelly’s sick.”
The severity wouldn’t be clear until Miriam regained her composure but the news rocked everyone. The news rocked me. Kelly hadn’t been feeling well of late. The last time I had saw her was when Janie had me over and I had failed to exit before her return. She had lost her appetite and weight rather quickly; Ramblin’ Rick had put it down to stress and had whisked her away on a Barcelona mini break. When they returned she lost even more weight and began noticing blood in her urine. When the fatigue became too much and the vitamin supplements she self prescribed had zero affect Kelly broke her rule and went to her doctor. He quickly referred her to a specialist who consulted a Gynaecologist. The diagnosis was back within three days. Kelly had cervical cancer, stage 4A to be specific. The scheduling of the staging surgery came with a phone call to her parents. The next conversation she would have would be with the Oncologist assigned to her case. As her parents sat with Tess, Janie and Rick in the waiting room they had managed to convince themselves that the surgery would be the end of it. There had been cancer but it wasn’t as bad as what the internet says and the surgery, well the surgery would take care of it all and Kelly would be home the second she was strong enough to get out of bed. The illusion was shattered the moment they entered her recovery suite. Kelly’s face, though tired and fragile and washed of colour wore something that none of them could have prepared for. There was a map of the road ahead, the dark path painted across her eyes. The surgery had brought the worst possible news. The cervical cancer had spread, had stretched out into her vagina, her rectum and bowel, even her bladder had become affected. What had frightened Kelly the most was how her body had betrayed her. Aside from fatigue and some pain during intercourse she had been in the dark about what was occurring on a microscopic level, in her body, each day as she ran her shop, drank with friends and planned the large princess wedding she had always dreamed of.
Kelly put the bravest face on her prognosis for her loved ones. She brushed past the surgeries and chemotherapy that was in her immediate future and told them it was all going to be ok. It was all going to be fine.
“A little radiotherapy, they said I’ll probably feel sick from it.” Kelly explained.
Rick hopped a flight. He had sent his apologies to Kelly’s parents but as he explained he “just couldn’t do it”. It was all too much for him.
“He’s got nice handwriting.” Was all Miriam could say before ripping the letter into pieces and instructing Janie to go to their house and get some “things” for Kelly’s room.
Janie had got as far as the front door when she broke down and ended up on my doorstep. I’ve no idea how the cab driver even understood her. We’d leave the apartment, it’s unusually quiet. Richard and Alvin had heard enough of the goings on to stay in their rooms until the tension had vacated the apartment. I took a moment to breathe at the top of the stairs before I left. The shock was normalising, leaving
me drained and nauseated.
We decided to let the cab leave when we arrived at the house on the Belmont Road. What we were about to do was not something we could put a time limit on. It was going to be emotional, exhausting, confusing and feel significantly longer than it would be. An unfamiliar grey Audi was parked in the driveway. As we reached the front door an older couple emerge from the house carrying several bags and boxes. The man looks like a bald wrinkly Rick. The look on their faces is one of shame, they should be ashamed. “Their son…” I thought.
“Hello.” Said the dad.
“You’re Rick’s parents right?” It came out more of a statement than a question.
“We are.” Responds the mum
“I see he’s keeping his hands clean.” Janie stifles a wall of tears.
“He’s terribly upset dear. His grandmother had…”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dear me!” Explodes Janie
“Richard’s done nothing wrong here. He didn’t want to postpone anything…that was Kelly’s decision.” His dad pipes up.
“Oh my fucking god she’s sick! Excuse-fuckin-me if she doesn’t fancy marching down a fuckin’ aisle right now!” Janie’s explosion surpasses her previous.
“I think this is something you need to discuss with your sister dear.” Offers the mum
“You tell your son if I ever see him again he’ll be brushing his teeth with his own cock,” I blurted out before smiling “you have yourself a good fuckin’ day now.”
We push past Rick’s parents, frozen with shock, made statue like by the storm of swear words that smashed into them. What his mum had said played on my mind, I could see it played on Janie’s too. Kelly had cooled on marriage recently, Janie like everyone else had assumed that it had been because she had discovered she was sick but The Prick’s parents seemed to think otherwise. That was no excuse for him not being around though; he was still a spineless fuck for not manning up. Inside the house was dark, cold. Rick had not been there in a while. Childishly I knocked a piece of his modern art from the wall. Janie’s convulsions are making their way to the surface again. I sit her down on the couch, the same couch we shared all those weeks previous before climbing the stairs to Kelly and Rick’s room. I ignore the photo, framed in silver, of Kelly and Ramblin’ Rick in Rome and head straight to the wardrobe. I took the small suitcase from the bottom of the built-in wardrobe and packed two floral dresses, seven nightgowns, slippers, pants, bras, tooth brush, make-up bag, her iPod, some jewellery, even some fake tan. I came to her polka dot collection; dozens of dresses, all in different colours, styles and fabric. All staring out at me like Benetton Dalmatians. Regardless of style they all hung to the same length. My eyes tracked along the hems, all the same, all level. She had an almost pathological hatred of her legs. I never saw why, I loved them. I just assumed she was crazy.
I had no idea what I was doing, I was miles out of my depth but I was trying. Trying to help, trying to keep busy, and trying not to think about the fact that Kelly had been rotting from the inside. It was probably even when we were together, that last Christmas together when she was tired, I was drunk and we spent our days in silence. She would have had less treatment ahead of her then, she wouldn’t be preparing for more surgery for radiotherapy and chemotherapy, for the prospect of losing her womb, her fertility; everything she left me to pursue, marriage, children, breast feeding, trips to the park, first tooth, first kiss, and first communion. If only she was paying attention to her body, there must have been signs. She missed them because she had to deal with me, then when I was no longer the issue she was dealing with the guilt of what my life had become, guilt I shoved in her face with every drink and screw. I didn’t know how long I had been crying but my legs couldn’t hold my weight any longer and then I was on the floor, eyes filled with water, nose running, chest convulsing, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to do anything but weep.
We left Kelly’s house after an hour, cab waiting, bags packed; the grimmest of trips. Belfast City Hospital was ten minutes walk from my apartment. The large yellow tower block could be seen from most places on the Lisburn Road. It all became surreal when I walked into the Cancer Centre and saw the family I used to spend Christmas with. They looked older. I handed Alan the suitcase as Miriam rushed to wrap her arms around me, as she did I pulled Janie in too. A spontaneous family hug broke out in the middle of the waiting room.
“Thank you for the help son, it’s good to have you here.” Offered Alan.
I nodded.
“Doug’s been brilliant mum.” Beamed Janie.
She smiled; I got the feeling Janie had spoke to prevent someone else from doing so.
“How is she?” I asked.
I wished to God they’d have something incredible to tell me.
23
FOR THE FIRST two weeks the world stopped. Alan and Miriam camped out at the hospital day and night, Tess came most evenings to let them away for dinner, Janie had submitted a line to the University that excused her from pretty much everything. Eventually the day-to-day demanded to be tended to, Alan and Miriam returned to Bangor, coming up every other night. Tess would visit between lessons at the court; Janie still camped out Monday to Friday but spent the weekends on her back completely inebriated. I booked two days annual leave a week so I could go to the hospital, change her flowers, air the room, run all the errands required while Kelly slept. Her face was sharp. She had always had such soft beautiful features but they had eroded and been replaced by greyish sharp edges, tight angles.
The days of her surgery brought the family back together in the family room of the Cancer Centre. I would sleep in my bed these days; I could barely look at the sorrow in Miriam’s sunken eyes. The surgeons took everything. They removed her womb, vagina, rectum, and half her bladder. They had emptied Kelly and still the radiation continued. The Oncologist was concerned about her “margins”, there was talk of further surgeries.
“Christ sake,” mourned Alan “what’s left to take out of her?!”
I had been napping in the family room, my jacket as a pillow when the nurse woke me.
“She’s awake if you want to see her Mr. Morgan.” She whispered. Her eyes were soft, face fresh. The freshest I’d seen in a long time.
“I don’t know…”
“You’ve been camped out here for weeks now. If you’re not here to see her.”
She didn’t need to finish her pep talk.
I got to my feet, my legs heavy, back sore. I walked to the entrance of her room before knocking. Her head turned as I appeared in the doorway. She managed a smile but only just. I was convinced it would crack her fragile face.
“So I hear you’ve been wonderful.” Her voice cracked from dehydration.
“That sounds like me.” I said as I held the glass of water I had refreshed an hour previously to her lips.
“It’s really nice to see you again even if you look like shit.” She mocked regaining her voice “You not sleepin’?”
I hadn’t laughed in forever. It felt better than any drug.
“You don’t need to be here. After everything we’ve been through I couldn’t blame you if you were sick of the sight of me and I’m sure there’s a little lady wondering where you are.”
“Thank you very fuckin’ much,” I blurted “kindly fuck up and let those who care take care of you. It’s about all we can do.”
“I’m just saying. I don’t want to get you in the dog house.”
“You’re fishing Marley.”
“I am not.”
“Yeah whatever. The only lady in my life at the minute is Miss Kitty Fantastico and as long as she gets her Go-Cat she won’t miss me much.”
“Thank you.” Kelly face beamed with a bona fide smile.
“For what?”
“For not making a cheap pussy joke.”
“I’ll have you know that no pussy joke is cheap.”
Her smile blossoms into a laugh. It’s intoxicating.
“Don’t make me
laugh.” She pleads “I’ll pee and I’m already incredibly alluring enough.”
“No more jokes ok?!”
Kelly nodded and took another sip.
“How’re you feeling?” I look up at her but she’s drifted off to sleep.
Our week flew in; Kelly would go to chemotherapy in the morning, she would return in the afternoon, drained, sick. I would sit by her with a bucket until the nausea passed. The nurse would change her colostomy bag and in the early evening she would sit in the armchair in the corner of the room while I painted her toe nails or read a book that had been sent up to the hospital from her shop. I bought her a docking station for her iPod. I was giving her a foot massage when it came on.
“I feel unhappy”
“I feel so sad”
“I’ve lost the best friend”
“I’ve ever had”
Kelly looked at me from under her heavy eyelids.
“D’you do that on purpose?” She asked
“What?”
“The song.”
“No.”
“That one seems to follow us around.” She threw off.
“That’s what made it our song.” I said.
“No it wasn’t.”
“I’m going through changes”
“Yes it was.”
“I’m going through changes”