‘Come here,’ Godfrey said, and extended both his hands. The twins each grabbed one and stood close to the bed, their little necks craning to see Abu’s face. Abu’s mother behind them, hiding almost, everything still shut close so that nothing would be able to ooze out. Her face tugged at Karl’s insides and the laughter that he hadn’t been able to control slipped away into the bleak no-nonsense-ness of the hospital room. His tears dried as hers started to fall again.
‘It is the fourth day.’
Karl’s birthday came. London was doing a half-arsed late-summer thing. The news was full of catching those who participated in the riots. Every other smart person was busy giving their deep thoughts on the whole situation that had been well fucked up. Whether it was just opportunism, or if it had meant more and showed the state of the country. The state of hopelessness. The way the youth would erupt, the black youth. Or all of them even. Karl was trying to catch up, get a proper opinion on the whole thing.
Nalini and Afsana caught Karl as he was leaving the estate. He wanted to get to the hospital early. They had a birthday card. Nalini hugged Karl. ‘Are you doing anything for your birthday? I mean, like, later?’
‘Not feeling it.’
‘I understand.’
Afsana hugged him too. ‘He will be better, you know.’
Nalini put her arm under Karl’s. ‘His chances are, like, excellent. Like really, really good. It will turn out all fine. Trust me! For real, Karl.’
Karl nodded and looked at her. Her hair was in a knot on top of her head. She wasn’t wearing much make-up. Her face was all open, waiting for Karl to let her go on. Talk. Either about Abu, or just chat some shit and make this a birthday. At least. There was a new we’ve shared something. More than they knew how to handle properly. Or at least Karl didn’t know how to handle it. Nalini seemed confident. And not in a Godfrey’s optimism way but in a these are the facts of life, you know way. That you get scared. Scared shitless. And then around the corner … you don’t know, you just don’t know. Either way, take it a day at a time. Survive that one day. Then look again. See where you find yourself. What the facts of that day are.
‘He’ll be chatting off your ear in no time.’
‘Thanks.’
She laughed. ‘Not that I would know. Or at least I didn’t used to.’
And Afsana had her own to share. ‘And how he speaks to you now. We’re all, like, how did that happen? Nalini, Nalini … no one knew Abu had it in him. Chirpsing the ladies like that.’
Nalini pushed her off the sidewalk. Afsana’s eyes went all wide, telling Karl yeah whatever, someone is so not upset at all.
‘It’s scary, but he ain’t dead, you know. Just remember that.’
Karl nodded. ‘Thanks.’ He started twitching from one foot to the other.
‘Yu’aright?’ Nalini seemed to have a new detective-type emotional ultra-vision thing going on. She put her hand on his arm. It started to drizzle.
‘Yeah. Thanks Nalini.’ And Karl nodded some more. ‘For the card you know. I need to be off though.’
And he turned around as Nalini replied, ‘Let me know if we can do anything,’ and ‘Happy birthday, despite everything, you know …’ But Karl raised his hand briefly, then turned around with wide paces. He made a left, ran down the road, then right over the traffic light past the Inland Revenue building and started to see the houses dropping away at the corners of his eyes.
28
* * *
How to say those things
that sound better felt.
Abu didn’t wake up that day. The first day of Karl’s eighteen years of age.
Karl sat on the bench that faced into the little park. London felt weird. His body was strange in these parts he knew so well, these roads he paced more than a few nights. The grass was supple and green. It certainly wasn’t dusty. Some of these roads had some well underprivileged parts, as Godfrey would have described it. But nothing like the Shell lights. He got up and kicked a can of beer towards the bin on the right. Miracle there even was a bloody bin.
When he entered the little phone and Internet shop, nothing like the one in Port Harcourt but just as crammed, it started to rain.
‘Hey, it’s me.’
‘Karl.’ Janoma laughed. ‘How’s Abu?’
‘Same. Not good.’
‘And you? What’s up?’
Karl grinned. The what to do with this bloody world disappeared.
‘I called you, like, twelve million times yesterday. What happened? You’re fed up with me already? Have you been doing stuff?’ Janoma laughed. Not really worried at all. He had called her now.
‘Lost my phone. I had it the day before yesterday. Might have left it in the hospital.’
‘Did you ask lost and found?’ Her voice was so close it was confusing.
‘No. Should do. Smart-arse. I didn’t even think of that.’
‘Well that’s what I’m here for.’
‘No, that’s not what you’re here for. But it helps. A lot. At least someone has their senses together.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse.’
‘What do they say?’
‘To wait. He’s got good chances. Blah blah. Whatever.’
‘And what else?’
‘I miss you.’
‘Me too. Like crazy.’
There was that pause. Burning. It spread in the tummy like Marmite. Only you didn’t love or hate it, you did both. Straight away. Because it was left hanging.
longing /ˈlɒŋɪŋ/
noun
A yearning, craving, ache.
adjective
Having desire.
desire /dɪˈzaɪə/
noun
Strong sexual feeling or appetite.
Like hunger, like greed: urgent.
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know Karl, I don’t know. I need to see you again.’
‘You do.’
She laughed. ‘Not sure about yourself at all.’
‘That’s a no-brainer cause that’s what you’re here for. To be with me.’
Strike. Matched. Defeated.
‘You’ve been doing stuff.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘You’ve grown yourself new confidence.’
‘Janoma.’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you come? Please.’
29
* * *
Turn, turn, turn.
And then pick up the pieces.
‘So why are we all here?’ The counsellor was an older woman, her hair white, loose on her shoulders. Karl always thought it looked a little thin but even thinner today. Godfrey was optimism display to the max.
‘I think we need to all just check in with each other properly.’
Rebecca looked at him. For real? Now you want to check in? She turned away. Karl sat in the middle, couldn’t move without taking sides.
‘When was the last time you did? I mean, like this, the three of you,’ the counsellor continued. Godfrey wasn’t usually part of the package deal. Not in her office.
Rebecca looked at Godfrey. Karl looked ahead. Counsellor looked at all of them, rotating.
‘A while back. We used to …’ He looked at Rebecca. Pleading.
Rebecca opened the door. Metaphorically speaking. Briefly.
‘I’m angry. Very. It’s not just about how dangerous and irresponsible this all was. Not just that you lied but that both of you thought I wouldn’t understand. And that I’m no longer part of it. Of anything that has to do with you, Karl.’
Karl turned to her. ‘It’s not even like that.’
‘Everyone knew. Except me. I call you and you pretend you are somewhere in the countryside. The English countryside.’
They were all silent. There was nothing to say. But the white-haired woman thought differently.
‘And why is that, you think? Rebecca, do you want to sta
rt?’
‘Actually, I don’t. I would like to hear from Godfrey. I would like to know what made this OK.’ She leaned towards him. ‘How did this work in your mind? I did not give up guardianship. I invited you in to support us.’
Godfrey’s body folded, smaller now.
‘I know. It just sort of ran away … sort of all went its own way, you know. It made sense, although it didn’t, if you know what I mean … I don’t even know how to explain it.’
‘Try.’
The counsellor still rotated her friendly face. Karl still looked ahead. This wasn’t about Godfrey. Not really. He was just getting it because he should have known better.
‘I would’ve gone anyway, Mum. I would’ve. I needed to see my father, Nigeria. See something other than this bloody city.’
‘You won’t be able to get rid of me—’
‘How could I want to get rid of you? Never. But you kept that from me. My whole life! I wanted to be myself. Karl. Without the bloody street telling me otherwise.’
30
* * *
The coming and going.
If only you could decipher
the logic.
Karl sat with his mother, watching Newsnight, talking about the state of things. The riots he missed, the school time he missed. The stuff they talked about in therapy. How they became estranged; reliant on the little network to support Karl. The guardianship from Godfrey. How she wanted it revoked, if this was how they went about things behind her back. The everything she missed because they did not have a tight relationship any more. Not her words, of course not. She said ‘no meaningful relationship’ and ‘not trusting any more’. Everyone knowing him better than she did. It wasn’t alright like this, to run away and not tell her the truth. Not even if he was eighteen. Not even if she was sometimes very ill. But she understood ‘being your own person’, and the world trying to tell you otherwise. The small world that you sometimes couldn’t escape unless you left. She had done that. A long time ago. Not much older than Karl. She had been feisty and sure of herself and not known what she was doing at all. They fell silent then, left it there. You couldn’t say it all in one go.
It got darker in their living room, but they didn’t put on the light. Karl sat on the couch with her, and when Newsnight finished, she turned the TV off. Karl just looked out the window for a very long time. Didn’t say a thing. Until she broke the damn silence.
‘He will be fine, you know.’
‘I hope so.’
When Karl slept later, he dreamt his mother was running after him in a water park, the fountains spraying both of them and their laughter so loud and wild it woke him up. The first rays of light were creeping through the blinds. He left a note. Out for a run. Found my phone. I’ll be back for breakfast.
It was still quiet outside, houses all dreamy and inattentive. Instead of sprinting around street corners, he walked until he arrived at the hospital. It was too early for visiting hours but he knew a way of sneaking in to the chair by Abu’s bed.
When Abu opened his eyes, Karl’s face was slumped over. Abu all clueless. What the heck was going on? And why was Karl all droopy-shoulders, about to hit the floor with a big sliding-off-that-chair move that was not cute at all? Abu wanted to laugh but it was difficult to remember how to do that. Instead, his mouth moved, the lips remembering the way they used to work that whole area, a mind of its own, tongue adding the rest.
‘You’re back.’
And he fell. Karl. Banged his elbow on the linoleum. Awake in an instant. Then remembered where he was, that he wasn’t supposed to be here yet, that he needed to be quiet, that they could tell him to leave. But before he made it up off the floor something sent him straight back.
‘When did you come back?’
31
* * *
Who waits
for whom
and at which corner?
‘Nurse.’ Karl jumped up from the floor and landed next to Abu, hugging him, laughing, crying, then careful, then scared.
‘Nurse!’
A tired, round lady came in. Her uniform was immaculate, if you wanted to use such a heavy word. Some ironed shit right there. Her eyes looked sleepy, overworked. Karl had seen her around a lot. Her eyes looked at him – what? – then at Abu, then back.
‘He’s … look! He’s awake. His eyes …’
The dragging feet almost leaped forward and in one coordinated swoosh the nurse took Abu’s arm into her hands, felt his pulse, asked him if he knew where he was, placed the cold end of the stethoscope on Abu’s thin hospital gown. She listened to something Karl couldn’t hear, then shuffled out to get the consultant on duty. Abu’s eyes closed again, face scrunched as if in pain, head tilted to the side.
‘That light man, you can kill someone with that.’
‘Of course,’ Karl replied. ‘I can fix that, just a sec bruv, won’t be a second.’ And hurried to the switch by the door. Then it was gone. The light and the spark that had ignited Abu out of Nirvana. By the time the doc came he was out again: nothing at all, nothing bloody at all.
‘He was awake. I spoke to him—’
‘He was, he seemed to respond well and understood that he was in here. Of course he didn’t know why,’ the nurse reported to the doctor.
And it started again: the testing and looking at Abu closely. Karl shushed out of the room but returned as soon as the doctor let him, like a lover on the rebound. There was nowhere else to go. He had to stay. The doctor apologised but said it was a good sign nevertheless. That there was more hope; he had been waiting for some improvement.
‘All developments are promising at this point. Be patient. Your friend is fighting.’
And Karl took his position by the bed again, impatiently settling in.
but where wd I stay?
mine of course where else
& ur mother?
ill speak 2 her
before I get there, pls! don’t want 2 turn up & left standing in that british rain of urs :-p
haha. u wont
check
ok
u still there?
I am
i miss you
miss u 2. will ur father let u come ???
He will have to say yes. It’s good for my studies
Will he?
Yes.
Maybe he’ll think ur running away
says mr. running just to get a life
it’s different
how?
have nowhere to be still
‘What’s wrong with this place? Some sort of light torture?’
And something fell again. Karl was dropping the phone. He looked up and reached for Abu.
‘Can you like make up your mind? Stay this time, bruv.’
Abu looked at him, puzzled.
‘Please.’
Abu’s eyes focused. He turned towards Karl, less pain in his face, more real action in his movement.
‘When did you come back?’
‘I’m sorry man. I’m sorry.’
And tears fell. The guilt that made Karl’s chest an abandoned warehouse. Heavy and empty at the same time.
In the end, Abu remained on the conscious side of reality.
32
* * *
How loud
is a vacuum?
Abu quiet. This was definitely new. Like so effing quiet you would not believe it. It made Karl uncomfortable. He felt like shifting on his chair, shifting while standing, when walking, or when on the mattress in Abu’s room. He couldn’t find a still point, nothing to hold on to because Abu gave nothing back. No reassurance, nothing but the stillness that penetrated inside Karl’s chest, cold and unforgiving.
After days of coma induced by a minor head injury, because his brain hit the front then the back of his skull, when they had shown him how to worship the ground, he woke up, most of himself intact. His brain had flopped forward and backwards, like the way the wannabes slammed them in the fence that time, and the bruising caused
him to be out, seven days straight. No bleeding, no nothing. A lucky, oh so lucky boy the doctor had said. Nothing but some mood irregularities, some attention problems, which wasn’t so damn new; memory might need some recap but nothing that could not and would not be dealt with. No need to worry.
He saw the special therapist every day while still in hospital once he woke. Now he was home with his mood irregularities and Karl missed the chatting that had never been quiet and irritable but straight out of the tap in one long gush.
Not like Abu had ever been the one with the best organisational skills. Now he had exercises for that, to make sure he regained them, but after another week it was clear there wouldn’t be much of a lasting problem. As long as he could lose the bloody moodiness, Karl thought. He rolled over in bed, feeling guilty. Things were back to normal, if you could call an almost-death normal, if you could call running away to the other end of the world normal, but at least he was back to his floor position, lying awake now to make sure Abu was still breathing. As long as that happened, he knew it would be fine.
Karl was now talking non-stop, whenever he didn’t feel the responsibility pressing on his chest, making his vision dark with stars popping out in front of his face, air making itself rare. When he had enough breath he was chatting for King’s Cross, Nigeria and the fucking universe. Yakking for Abu, trying to make up for things he should’ve/could’ve/ would’ve done, for things he wished he could do now, like take away the pain that was dropping on his friend’s face like there was no tomorrow. The way he retreated now, his eyes there but all the rest gone someplace else, processing, Karl hoped, but he wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem like Abu had really come back.
When We Speak of Nothing Page 22