‘I’m going to clean her face now. Often it will stimulate them to open their eyes when we perform intimate things like brushing their teeth or shaving for the men.’
I move closer and stare at the nurse as she squeezes water out of a piece of yellow sponge and gently starts to clean around the life support machine tube. I hold my breath as she lays her thumb on Dahlia’s temple and wipes her closed eyes. My heart clenches with hope.
This is it. She is going to open her eyes.
But of course, she does not.
The nurse looks at me, her expression both disappointed and reassuring. ‘It can happen anytime. You know, the best thing you can do by the bedside of a loved one in a coma is to talk to them. They can hear you. Tell them you love them. Let them know you’re going to stay with them. You’re not giving up on them. Offer them hope.’
The next day I begin to make the necessary arrangements to move Dahlia back to the house.
I hire two twenty-four hour nurses to take turns to watch her and to move her every hour so she doesn’t have bedsore or skin problems. I also contact a kinesiologist recommended by Dr. Medhi to ensure her lungs are clear and her muscles exercised to avoid choking and atrophying.
I also hire a professional to come to the house and make a list of everything that needs to be done before a patient with Dahlia’s needs can be catered to. He gives us a long list. It runs from a bathroom for the nurses with hot and cold water to a reputable back-up generator for the life support machine in the event there is any kind of disruption to the electrical supply, to the best carbon based air filters on the market.
Going on his recommendation I decide to house Dahlia on the ground floor in the living room with the French doors. Once the location is decided, my secretary organizes a team of workers to come in and build a bathroom in there. They are also told to move the piano from its present location to Dahlia’s new room. She wanted to hear me play. She’s going to hear me play.
Because I am prepared to pay whatever it takes for quicker service and fly in everything that is needed from any part of the world, the house is ready for Dahlia in five days’ time.
Tomorrow my little fox comes home.
Thirty-four
Stella
For a long second I stand outside the door to Dahlia’s new living quarters, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Then I open the door and sail into the room.
‘Hello, Sleepyhead,’ I call cheerfully.
The nurse stands and smiles. I return the smile. ‘You must be Corrine,’ I say.
‘And you must be Stella,’ she says pleasantly.
‘At your service.’
‘I’ll be outside,’ she says, and heads for the door.
‘You might as well take a break and go to the gym or something. I’ll be at least an hour,’ I tell her.
‘Thank you. I might have a quick swim.’
She leaves and I go up to the bed and give a loud smack on Dahlia’s cheek. I run my eyes over her face. Her hair is starting to grow and it has been neatly combed. I pick up her hand and her fingernails are short and nicely filed, but bare, like a child’s. The sight stirs me. She used to love her nail polish.
My chin trembles.
I still can’t believe this terrible fate has befallen her. If only I had not forced her to go in my place that evening. I feel the tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I grit my teeth and plaster a smile on my face even though she can’t see it.
‘You’ll never guess what I brought for you. Perfume and makeup. Yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say, nobody is going to see you etc., etc., but honestly you really shouldn’t let yourself go like this,’ I say chattily.
Opening my bag, I take out a brand new container of eye shadow.
‘All of this is dermatologically tested so it is kosher for sleepyheads.’ Carefully I apply a very subtle amount of brown eye shadow, blend it with a bit of highlighter, and stand back to look at the effect.
‘Oh wow. You won’t believe how good I am at this.’
I dig into my bag.
‘Now this is raspberry pink lip gloss. It’s raspberry flavored, just in case you want to have a little lick, or … Zane does,’ I say, and apply a coat on her lips, working carefully around the tube in her mouth. I stand back.
‘Oh yes. Ten times better.’
Then I open a box of blusher and rub a tiny amount on each pale cheek. Amazing how quickly she lost her lovely color. I take my hand away and regard my handiwork critically.
‘You look amazing. I really am in the wrong profession. I should be a beautician. I thought about getting you nail varnish, but decided maybe that’s not such a good idea. You know, the fumes and stuff. If you want to have nice nails, I suggest you get your American ass out of that bed quick.’
She says nothing, just the steady whoosh of her ventilator, so I reach again into my bag. ‘Look what else I got you.’
I slip a bracelet made out of organic cotton with little pink love hearts on it that reads HUG ME.
‘Hmmm … it really suits you, Dahlia. I’m really glad I got it now. I found it at a new shop that opened around the corner from us. It was so pretty I got us each one. I’m wearing mine now too.’ I hold my wrist out, turning it, as though she is watching.
I put all the cosmetics back into my bag and sit down next to her.
‘Mark came around. He’s really cut up about what happened to you. He even cried. I was livid with him and I had planned to punch him in the throat when he walked through the door, but I took one look at his face and all my anger died away. He looked terrible.’
I stare at her fingers. For a second I am sure her middle finger moved. I stand and watch it carefully while I speak
‘I started to feel sorry for him. I saw how destroyed he is by it all and he did mean well. It must be awful to know you caused the person you love so much damage. Anyway, we went out for coffee, and we talked about you the whole time. It’s like we’re connected. We’re both survivors of a tornado called Dahlia. Both of us connected by our guilt. I keep thinking what if I had insisted you switch off your phone when I switched mine off.’
I am babbling nonsense and staring so hard at her finger I don’t even blink.
‘He told me everything. How he was part of a police force investigating some guy called Lenny, and while they had him under surveillance they found out that he was plotting to get rid of Zane, and how he happened to see you coming out of Zane’s house that time you went in my place. It was a bit creepy but he had such a thing for you, he followed you home, and then, pretended to bump into you at the supermarket the next day. I know how it sounds, but at heart, he’s a really nice guy. He is dying to come and visit you, but of course, Zane won’t ever allow it.’
I never take my eyes off her fingers, but they never move again. It must have been my imagination. Disappointed, I resume my seat.
‘Not that I blame Zane for holding him responsible. I did too. You should know that I’ve changed my mind about Zane, too. I believe he really loves you. He’s like all cold and distant, but I can feel how much he loves you. From what I have seen of Zane, I know now that you’re never coming back to stay with me. It’s obvious as hell both of you are going to get married and play happy families so I’ve got myself a flat mate. She’s from this unpronounceable little village in Ghana.’
I sigh unconsciously and quickly make my voice bright and peppy again.
‘She’s all right, I guess. I took her to Jamie’s the other night, but she doesn’t really drink. She had one glass of white wine all night, and she doesn’t like the music there either. So really, I desperately need you to wake up and come for a girls’ night out with me.’
Zane
I come into the room and the nurse stands up, smiles politely and leaves. I wait until she closes the door before I approach the bed. I see instantly that Dahlia is wearing makeup. I can only imagine that Stella must have dolled her up. I go up to her. The sight is bittersweet: she looks so beautiful,
like Snow White lying in her glass box, but I can’t wake her up, take her in my arms.
I go really close so I can feel the heat of her skin, and watch the tiny pulse in her throat beating. She’s not gone yet. She’s still alive. I just have to reach in and find her.
‘You look beautiful tonight,’ I tell her. ‘Want to listen to some music?’
Of course, she doesn’t answer. I go to the piano, open the lid and begin to play for her.
December
Thirty-five
Zane
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
As soon as I finish the call I rush to Dahlia’s room. The nurse is exercising her legs, and usually I would come back, but today I cannot wait.
‘Could you finish that in a bit?’ I ask.
‘Certainly,’ she says and, placing Dahlia’s leg gently back on the bed, covers it and leaves the room.
Dahlia’s hair has started to grow back. It is not yet two inches long, but it is enough for Stella to bring some pink clips and get the nurses to decorate it with them. To be honest, I don’t like the clips. I’ve never known Dahlia to wear anything so babyish. She was always a woman thru and thru and now between Olga, Stella and the nurses she’s always dressed like a kid.
I run my finger on her cheek. ‘Oh, Dahlia, Dahlia,’ I sigh softly. ‘When will you wake up and come back to me?’
Careful not to touch any of the tubes and lines running into her, I rest my forehead against hers. My lips brush her eyelashes. I close my eyes with the familiar sensation. This should have been such a happy moment, but it feels so sad.
‘You did it. You really did it. Guess what you did, my little thieving angel?’ I whisper. ‘I just had a phone call from the great Andre Rieu. I thought it was a prank call until he told me that a violinist named Eliot Scarborough had called him. I know you went with Stella to a client called Eliot so I pricked up my ears and listened.’
The sharp edge of the plastic juts into my cheek. I lift my head, take off the clip and smooth her hair.
‘He said Eliot sent him a few pages photocopied from a symphony I composed that my girlfriend had apparently given to him. It was all meant to be a great surprise. And believe me it was. An unbelievable surprise,’ I say.
‘Anyway Andre said he wanted to personally thank my girlfriend because during his many years as a celebrity composer and conductor with his own orchestra, he is inundated daily with phone calls, emails and letters from people who have composed arias, overtures or waltzs, all begging him to play their work. Over time he came to the conclusion that a new Johann Strauss or Mozart were things of lore, until he played my music.’
I smile at her. Please be listening, Dahlia. Please respond to this news.
‘He said he almost fainted when he heard it. He thought it was grand, exciting, romantic, and fabulously enthralling … and, wait for it, he wants me to send the rest of my notes because he wants his orchestra to play my symphony!’
I stop and put in as much excitement as I can into my voice.
‘You did that, little fish. You made it happen,’ I say, my voice throbbing with excitement, while my heart weeps with sadness.
She doesn’t wake up when I hold her, thank her, touch her or talk to her.
January
Thirty-six
Olga
It is Dahlia’s birthday. I have baked a chocolate cake from a recipe I found in the American cookbook I bought, and the girls have spent the morning decorating her room with lots of balloons. I have also cooked a lot of food for the boys, and Noah has brought in a crate of vodka. The house looks festive, but there is an air of sadness that cannot be erased. She was the light of the house. When she came she brought fun and laughter and noise and now that she has fallen silent the house has become like a tomb.
I saw Zane this morning and he looked as he always looks nowadays: haunted.
I hear the doorbell and I know it is Stella. When she comes in I see that she has been crying. I open my arms out and she runs into them.
‘Oh, Olga. I can’t bear to see her like this.’
‘Shhh ... she will wake up. Give her time,’ I say gently.
She pulls out of my arms and dashes away her tears roughly. ‘What if she doesn’t?’
‘I know she will.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘I don’t know why I’m so sure. I feel it inside me. Just like I knew when she came to live in this house that she would become the mistress of it one day. I just know she will wake up.’
‘Well, you’d better be right,’ she says gruffly.
‘Do you want a cup of coffee or do you want to go in and see her now?’
She sniffs and blows her nose from a tissue she finds in the pocket of her jeans. ‘Thanks. I’ll just go see her first.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘I’ve got a surprise for her.’
‘You do?’
‘Yup.’
‘Run along then, child.’
‘OK, see you later.’
Stella
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrIPxlFzDi0
I pop my head around Dahlia’s door and find both the nurses standing by the window chatting. They turn to look at me. Jane, the older nurse, grins.
‘Will you look at this place?’ she asks.
I step into the room in wonder. ‘Wow! Are balloons a Russian thing?’
She giggles.
‘It was that kid Nico. He was like a monkey climbing up the walls.’
I glance at Dahlia. No change there.
‘Well, give us a shout when you’re finished,’ Corrine says.
‘OK,’ I say taking off my coat.
When they have gone out and closed the door I approach. ‘Happy Birthday, Sleepyhead. How are you today?’ I ask as I take my computer out of my bag and put it on the table next to her. ‘Mark sends regards and birthday wishes. I told him I’ll bring him some birthday cake.’
Later I will call Daisy so that she and her mom can wish Dahlia Happy Birthday, but not yet.
‘I’ve realized what is happening in this place,’ I say.
‘Zane is filling your head with classical music and as much as you claim to like that stuff you must be really missing the good stuff by now.’ I take out my iPhone and my Beats Pill Bluetooth speaker from my bag, turn the volume up, and hit play. The sound of the Rolling Stones blasts into the room.
Zane
Everyone is gone. The party is over. I drank a lot, but I don’t feel drunk. I pick my way through the streamers lying on the floor and go over to the French doors and stare into the darkness. All that noise and shouting and she never woke up.
My shoulders slump as I exhale.
Suddenly the spotlights in the garden come on. A fox and her two cubs have wandered into the garden. The first thought that crosses my mind is, I wish Dahlia could see this. Then the thought: she will fucking see it if it’s the last thing I do.
I take my phone out and film them sniffing around. The cubs are small, fluffy, and playful, and I know they will make her smile. They came to visit her while she was sleeping.
The creatures find nothing, and eventually they disappear into the area of the garden not illuminated by the lights.
I sit next to her and gently lay my head on her arm.
‘I got you a birthday present,’ I whisper. ‘Two tickets to Beyonce’s concert. Stella told me you’ve always wanted to see her perform. Here’s the best part, I’ve arranged for you to go backstage to meet her. It’s next month. The 18th of next month. We’re going together. I’m just going to put these tickets right here until the day comes.’
I go and sit at the piano and I play for her with all the pain and passion that exists in my body. I play until the early morning hours. Then I page the nurse, and when she comes I go to bed.
March
Thirty-seven
Dahlia Fury
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YxaaGgTQYM&nohtml5
&nbs
p; (Bring Me to Life)
I am standing very still in a white room. There is nothing in the room but a white table and six white chairs. The room has no windows, but it is filled with a white light that is very bright but it is not blinding. It has no source, just seems to be everywhere. It permeates everything. Even me. It flows through me giving me perfect peace, perfect bliss.
Time doesn’t exist, at least I don’t feel it passing. I know I am waiting for something or someone, but I don’t know what. I don’t feel anxious. I feel peaceful. Sometimes I think I can feel someone touching me. I’m not sure because I can’t see that I have a body. A nurse. She has cool, impersonal hands. A needle pricking my arm. A tube down my mouth, my neck lifted up … and yet I have no body.
Strange. Bewildering and alien, but I am not afraid. Everything is perfect here.
Other times another touch. A man. I know him very well, but I can’t understand what he is doing there. Our fingers entwined. It’s familiar and fills me with longing, but I don’t know what for.
There are other voices. Indistinct but happy. They reassure me. I’m glad they are there even though I cannot make any sense of what they are saying or why they are there.
Often I hear beautiful music, and there is so much love and sadness in the music. It feels as if it is calling to me but I cannot get to it.
Zane
So what if we didn’t make it to the concert. There will be others.
Stella
Oh! My smokehouse! You are not going to believe what happened, Dahlia. This is big. This is real big. Mark and I kissed!
April
Thirty-eight
Noah
I rush to Zane’s study and knock on his door. Even before he can call, ‘come’ I open it and enter.
‘What is it?’ he says springing up in alarm.
‘You have to come with me. I have to show you something,’ I say quickly. I can barely contain my excitement. My heart is beating in my chest.
You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) Page 16