by Joe Heap
‘Well, I’m in rehab.’
‘Right, right … I sent you a get-well card! You’ll see it when you get home.’
Nova doesn’t say anything to this. She will believe it when the card is in her hand.
‘Are you at a bar?’
‘Nah, just a faculty thing – party for the new grads. I’ll probably head home now.’
‘Don’t let me keep you from the fun.’
‘I’m walking home now. Talk to me.’
Nova founders. She had not thought about what she wanted to say, assuming that – given an opening – all the frustration would come pouring out of her.
‘I don’t know what to say …’ she admits. She can hear Rebecca’s footsteps down the line, and her breath on the receiver, and these things are strangely reassuring. Reassuring of what? Reassuring that there is a world beyond this facility. Instead of expanding Nova’s world, as everyone promised, learning to see has contracted everything. Always comfortable in snug spaces, Nova feels claustrophobic.
‘Well, why don’t you tell me how it’s going? Can you … can you see?’
The last word is highlighted with incredulity, as though Rebecca can’t imagine a version of Nova who is not blind.
‘I don’t … it’s like … The operation was a success,’ she ends, limply.
‘It was a success? So, you can see?’
Nova takes a breath and tries to put the experience into words. ‘Well, my eyes are working … My brain is receiving information. Lots of information.’ She’s worried that she’s going to cry – her miraculous eyes are starting to water.
‘But?’ Rebecca asks, waiting for Nova to go on. Nova feels a swell of affection for her ex. This is the Becca that she remembers from the early days – the one who listened more than she talked. Maybe she wasn’t lying when she said she had changed for the better.
‘But I’m still blind.’
‘You’re … what? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘I know. I don’t understand any of it. Half the time I feel more blind than I did before. It’s so confusing, I can’t even move around like I used to! I can’t remember the shape of a room, or where I put my glass of water. I tried to sneak out of here, just to go to a shop and buy some crisps, but I got completely disoriented … I was stranded … and all I wanted was a packet of … of crisps!’
Nova is crying now, gently, the ends of her words turning up in a petulant accent. The sound of footsteps has stopped on the other end of the line and for a moment she is worried they’ve been disconnected.
‘Becca?’
‘I’m still here, babe. I’m just sitting on someone’s garden wall.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Nova sob-laughs. ‘Describe it to me.’
‘Well, for one thing there’s this creepy-ass garden gnome looking at me from the flower bed. Um … there are rose bushes, I think. You know I’m not good with flowers. There are tulips; I know those.’
‘Me too.’ Nova smiles. There are daffodils blooming across London. Alex has pointed some out to Nova on a walk. She was surprised by the colours – rubber-duck yellow and lipstick red. She imagined flowers being softer somehow, ghostly, like the hazy light she used to know. Tulips look like they were injection-moulded in a factory.
‘It’s raining a bit, but not much.’
‘You should go somewhere dry.’
‘Nah, it’s okay. I’ll dry out when I get home. How are you doing?’
‘A bit better for talking. Tell me about the party?’
‘Just the back room of a pub, warm beer and a dozen physics geniuses arguing about quantum entanglement. Boring. You saved me, actually.’
‘Hm. No cute girls?’
‘Oh, well, now you mention it, there was this redhead in skinny jeans …’ Rebecca begins.
‘All right, all right!’
Rebecca chuckles. ‘I’m joking anyway – they’re mostly male and stale. And nobody half as pretty as you.’
Nova smiles and takes a deep breath. ‘Who knows – if I work out this seeing business, maybe I’ll finally understand what it is about someone’s hair colour that makes you like them so much.’
‘That’s the spirit. Not that I want you chasing all the redheads on campus.’
There is silence for a moment. ‘I should probably get off now – they only give you ten minutes on this thing.’
‘Wow, it’s like I’m getting a call from prison. Kinda hot.’
‘Easy, tiger.’
Another pause. Nova stares at a sign on the wall – a white cross on a green background. She knows this can mean ‘hospital’ or ‘first aid’, and it’s one of the shapes she knows the best. Rebecca speaks again, her voice low and gentle.
‘Well, I’m always here if you need to talk. Or not talk. Whatever.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re going to be okay, Nova. If anyone can do it, I know you can.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘All right … You want to talk to the gnome?’
After a few more minutes of chat, Nova says goodnight and hangs up. It’s only at this point that she becomes aware of someone nearby, lurking in the shadows.
‘Hello?’
The unseen person clears their throat.
‘You wanna buy crisps?’ They slur a little – this is a patient, not a doctor. ‘I know where you can get some.’
‘I’m listening.’
Kate isn’t sure what time it is. There are no windows. She’s standing in a corridor. A hospital corridor. This hospital seems to be quiet, but maybe she’s just in a quiet ward. What kind of ward would she be in, anyway? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember what’s wrong with her.
Of course, this could be a dream – Kate has had a lot of strange dreams over the last couple of weeks, and a lot of them involved hospitals. Kate feels as though she could walk and walk, through endless corridors of flecked-blue plastic floors and magnolia walls, and never find what she is looking for. What is she looking for?
Anyway, Kate is pretty sure she’s awake. It’s just that her brain hasn’t quite knitted back together yet. Nothing seems real. She walks on down the corridor, feeling cool air around her ankles. She looks down and remembers she’s in a gown, with slippers on her feet. Her right hand is closed tight around something hard. She opens the hand in front of her and sees a shiny gold coin.
Ah yes, she remembers now. She asked if she could buy a chocolate bar. There was money in the drawer of her bedside table and Kate guessed it must belong to her. They had told her where she could find a vending machine. She doesn’t remember who ‘they’ are. Perhaps ‘they’ had asked if she wanted them to show her the way, but Kate refused. She doesn’t need looking after.
She walks a little further, pushing through a fire door, then taking a right turn where there is no other option. Is she lost? She pushes through another fire door and sees what she is looking for – a row of vending machines.
Standing in front of the glowing machines is another woman, also wearing a gown. This tiny woman is hammering the plexiglass of the machine with her fists, yelling with each blow.
‘Give … me … my … crisps … you … BASTARD!’
Kate is not sure if this person has noticed her entrance and, though she is worried that they might be violently unhinged, thinks it only polite to announce herself. She clears her throat, and the other woman turns briefly in her direction. Kate sees light brown skin and a messy halo of dark hair. The woman is wearing sunglasses – mirrored aviator shades. It is not especially bright in the corridor, and Kate isn’t sure if the woman has seen her. She turns back to the machine and starts to beat her fists against it once more.
Kate walks up to the machines, determined that this isn’t going to stop her getting her chocolate bar. It’s the only thing she remembers wanting, and she’s not even sure she can find her way back to the ward. She looks at the three machines. The left one sells drinks. The right one sells healthy snacks – porridge pots, apples and bananas. Kate�
��s nose wrinkles in distaste. She has a childlike need for refined sugar. Only the middle machine – the one currently getting the crap kicked out of it – is stocked with crisps, jelly sweets and chocolate.
She watches as the woman in the hospital gown and aviator shades swings back from the machine and shoulders it hard. There is silence and stillness for a moment, then the tiny woman whispers:
‘Ow … fuck.’
Kate can see the problem – a packet of prawn cocktail crisps has slumped out from the dispenser without falling, wedged between the coil and the glass. She clears her throat again. The woman in the aviator shades spins around.
‘Yes?’ she demands.
Kate sees herself reflected double in the mirror shades and swallows.
‘Uh, I was just going to say, maybe I could help?’
The woman smiles for a second.
‘You wanna help me smash this piece of crap vending machine that stole my money?
‘Uh, no …’ Kate says, hurriedly. ‘I was just thinking, I’m going to get a chocolate bar, and maybe I could knock your crisps out.’
Behind the aviators, the woman seems to frown.
‘Knock them out?’
‘Yeah, like, if I get the chocolate bar above, it might fall and knock your crisps out?’ The woman is still frowning. ‘You know, because they’re jammed?’
‘They are? I thought it had just swallowed my money.’
‘No, they’re right there.’
‘I don’t really use vending machines … but I like this plan!’
The tiny woman moves aside, grinning. Kate steps forward and puts her coin in the slot. The chocolate bar that she really wants is just one up from the crisps, but she’s worried that if she chooses this one, it won’t gather enough momentum to knock them free. So she keys in A7, three rows above, for dark chocolate and coconut. Not her first choice, but still good.
The coil starts to turn.
Kate holds her breath.
The chocolate bar falls, glances off the bag of crisps and lands with a clunk at the bottom of the machine. For a second, Kate thinks her plan hasn’t worked, then the crisps shift sideways, hesitate for a second and fall.
‘Yes!’ Kate smiles at this tiny victory.
‘Did it work?’ the woman asks. She can’t seem to see anything through the shades. Kate wants to tell her to take them off, but doesn’t want her to go back to shouting and punching things. She crouches down and grabs their snacks from the dispenser tray.
‘Here you go.’
The woman takes the crisps and grins up at Kate.
‘Thanks, I really—’
‘Hey, you!’
They are cut off by the shout, which comes from the other end of the corridor. Kate looks up and sees a man in a navy-blue uniform – a security guard.
‘You in the glasses!’
‘I assume you mean me?’ the tiny woman replies, as the security guard advances on her.
‘Yes, you, who else is wearing sunglasses here? I’ve been watching you on the CCTV.’
‘Took you a while to get here.’
‘You can’t just start laying into hospital property like that.’
‘Well, the thing is …’
Kate is beating a hasty retreat out of the corridor, and doesn’t hear the woman’s excuse. The fire door closes behind her, and as she hurries back the way she came, Kate could swear she hears the security guard laughing at something the woman has said. Then there is nothing.
Kate clutches the chocolate bar to her chest, winding her way back through the maze of corridors. Somehow, she finds the ward, and from there a nurse shows her back to her bed. By the time she has settled down to eat her snack, Kate has completely forgotten about Nova.
‘Cheese, ham or egg?’
‘The ham, and a coffee.’
‘Okey-dokey.’
The woman places the sandwich, a paper cup of coffee, and some napkins on Kate’s over-bed table and moves on. She stares at the new objects, fixing on them like scenery out of a window. If she closes her eyes the room will start to heave. The doctors have given her an anti-sickness shot, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling like she’s on a boat. She could try to sleep again, but they keep waking her up to do more checks.
It’s the morning after she went to the vending machines, but Kate doesn’t remember any of that. In the hours of sleep since then, her brain has put itself back together, and her dreamlike trance has been replaced with nauseous clarity.
‘Hello, Ms Tomassi.’
A new doctor appears, reading the notes made by the previous three. The ward is making Kate feel like she’s in a recurring dream. The new doctor runs the same tests, checking her pupils, her reflexes, her heart rate and blood pressure. She asks Kate to confirm her date of birth and telephone number for the sixth time, which she does while staring at the white-on-green cross on the wall behind her head. First aid, Kate thinks. I am in need of aid.
Finally, it is done.
She has been in hospital for two weeks. Though she has been awake for much of it, she has no memories of her stay prior to this morning. Her last memory is eating toast with marmalade. But if she reaches up to the back of her head, under her hair is a shaved patch. She keeps running her fingers over the stubble when the nurses aren’t looking. There is a patch of gauze where they removed the shunt that was draining her brain. If she touches the puckered stitching there is pain, but otherwise she wouldn’t know that someone had opened her head up to take a look inside.
‘Well, Kate, I think you’re making really good progress. Your reflexes are all normal.’
‘So, I’ll make a full recovery?’
The doctor readjusts her expression.
‘You had a subdural hematoma – a bleed in the matter between your skull and your brain. We operated on you to relieve the pressure, and your scans show no damage to the affected area. But you should be on guard for anything unusual.’
‘Okay …’ Kate nods slowly, trying to take everything in.
‘We don’t see any need for rehabilitation. I’m prescribing you painkillers and anti-emetics. We’ll be keeping you under observation for a little longer, but if nothing changes, you’ll be discharged tomorrow. Is there someone who can take you home then? Will you need a taxi?’
‘I need to find out what shift my husband’s on. He’s around here somewhere …’
Kate isn’t sure if this is true – she saw Tony a while ago, but she doesn’t remember him saying goodbye.
The doctor frowns a little, Kate notices, then nods.
‘I’ll send someone to find him for you.’ She walks off.
Kate sips the coffee and regards her ham sandwich. No – still too soon.
‘How’s it going in there, Brain?’ she asks.
‘Not bad … we’ve been worse.’
‘Okay. Let me know when I’m good to eat this sandwich, yeah?’
‘Don’t hold your breath.’
She sips some coffee and looks around the ward. There was a scuffle with a man who may have been drunk about half an hour ago, but otherwise her stay has been uneventful. There are a dozen messages on her phone from the plasterer currently working in the new flat, but she can’t think about him yet.
She lies in the hospital bed, feeling the world rushing in, rushing out, nothing quite right. She closes her eyes, trying to relax, but the sickness won’t let up. After a couple of minutes, she hears two people approaching. One of them is Tony, chatting animatedly to the nurse who has found him.
‘So, I kicked down the door, and there he is, this scary drug lord, eating a Pop-Tart on the toilet.’
The nurse laughs at the anecdote. ‘Oh, my God!’
Kate opens her eyes.
‘Tony?’
He is the way she remembers him: a pressed, short-sleeved shirt, work trousers, hair smoothed over. He looks very calm, smiling. The nurse stops laughing, presses one hand to Tony’s shoulder as though pushing him away and smiles politely at Kate.
> ‘I’ll give you two some privacy.’
A long moment passes while the nurse walks off and neither of them says anything.
‘How are you?’ he asks.
‘I’ve been better.’
Kate becomes aware of another body behind Tony, moving as though stepping out of his shadow. It is another doctor.
‘Hello, Ms Tomassi. Before we discharge you, I’d just like to ask a few questions about the accident you had back in January. For our records.’
Kate frowns, knowing Tony must have already explained this to the doctors, knowing that she had already explained it herself.
‘I fell, in the kitchen …’
The doctor’s eyes dart between her and Tony. Tony doesn’t take his eyes off Kate’s face.
‘Yes, I just wondered about the nature of your fall. We just want to understand what caused your bleed. Could you explain how it happened?’
‘I tripped over a box of wine bottles, on the floor. I fell backwards.’
‘You fell backwards?’
Kate’s stomach churns; she wonders where he is going with this.
‘You were walking backwards, and tripped?’
Tony’s eyes are on her, the same way they were on her when she was holding the square of white paper. What had happened to the square of white paper?
‘Yes, I was stepping back …’ This is the moment that she could say something. This is the moment that she could say she was stepping back from Tony. But what is there to say? He did not push her, did not hit her, could not have intended for her to fall. They weren’t even arguing. Not really. She shakes her head, feeling the muscles in her neck protest.
‘Yes, I was just stepping back, out of the way of Tony, as he was chopping vegetables. I forgot that I’d put the wine on the floor. Stupid, really.’ She smiles.
‘Not a mistake you’ll make again soon, I’m sure.’ The doctor smiles. He talks for a minute more about medications and exactly what Kate should do if she feels unwell or lethargic. Then he leaves, and she is alone with Tony. He steps closer to the bed but says nothing.
They have been married for two years, and Kate has never known him like this. Tony is quiet, yes – this is what she says to friends. He can be uncommunicative, but who wants a chatterbox? They understand each other. That’s enough, isn’t it? But this silence is something different. This is a silence that he is inflicting on her.