The Rules of Seeing

by Joe Heap

  By the time she comes out of the bathroom the food has arrived, so they sit with their trays to eat on the sofa as the movie starts. From the beginning, there are explosions, gunfire, punches being thrown. Except it doesn’t feel like they’re watching a movie – it feels like Tony has opened a window into a war zone, and at any moment a bullet might fly through that window and strike Kate.

  She tries not to look at the screen, and the food helps – she can focus on tearing a chapatti, or fishing a piece of chicken out of her korma. But she is aware of Tony looking at her. She refuses to look at him, but she knows he’s watching her. Every so often she will look up at the screen when she thinks she might be safe. But the action is unpredictable – one moment she looks up and a body lunges out of the shadows.

  As the drugs kick in, she starts to feel sick and stops eating. She stares at the food, but it makes her feel worse. She tries to look up at the wall just past the television, but she can see too much of what is going on. Tony’s gaze keeps turning on her every so often, and she tries to concentrate. A henchman is shot in the leg, and Kate can’t help but flinch this time. How did she ever enjoy this kind of violence?

  ‘You’re not going to finish your curry?’ Tony asks.

  ‘I’m not as hungry as I thought.’

  Tony makes a noise, and for the first time that night she may actually have pleased him. He doesn’t like it when she overeats. Kate always tells herself that this is part of how he cares for her – that he’s looking out for her. But now she’s just irritated. Angry, all of a sudden. Angry that she’s being made to watch this stupid film. Angry that everything she says is doubted – that her husband thinks she’s crazy.

  Ignoring the churning in her stomach, Kate picks up her fork and starts eating again.

  Tony says nothing, but she can tell that he’s watching her. A mortar shell explodes. Kate shovels a mouthful of chicken and rice into her mouth and barely chews before swallowing. Tony scratches his nose. An enemy fighter is knifed in the chest. Kate reaches for a poppadum, which breaks into shrapnel in her fingers. Tony makes no noise. Another enemy, standing on a ledge, is killed by a single shot to the head, his brains springing from his head like a party popper.

  Kate stops, feeling that she is teetering on a precipice. She puts her tray down quickly, runs to the bathroom and vomits into the toilet. She flushes once, then vomits again, a mixture of rice, chicken and half-dissolved pills. She is trembling, slick with sweat.

  Propping herself on the sink, she turns on the tap and watches the water spiral. This is what water does when it falls – it spirals. Those spirals have carved out valleys and caves and Kate thinks of these natural forms, losing herself in the ever-falling water.

  She’s been there for about five minutes when she hears a noise from the bathroom door. Thinking that Tony has finally come to check up on her, Kate turns her head. But the door is still shut. She turns the water off, just in time to hear footsteps in the hallway, and the sound of the front door opening, closing, and being locked.

  ‘Tony?’

  No response. Smoothing out her blouse, Kate unlocks the bathroom door and turns the handle. The handle turns, but the door doesn’t open. Thinking that it is jammed, Kate kicks the door lightly, near the floor. It doesn’t budge. Holding the handle, Kate swings herself back and slams her shoulder into the door.

  Dull pain, and the door hasn’t moved an inch. She’s starting to panic, and the ache in her shoulder isn’t helping.

  ‘Tony? Are you out there? Open the door.’

  No reply. Has he really gone out? There must be something up against the door. Did he put it there?

  Kate rattles the door, but it’s not opening. There is no window in the bathroom, just an extractor vent to stop it steaming up. She starts to pace over the tiles, back and forth in the tiny space. Something like fear is stopping her breathing – she can’t draw a full breath, can’t feel the satisfaction of her lungs stretching out.

  Back and forth, back and forth …

  If she keeps pacing she can ignore the pressure on her chest.

  Much later, Kate wakes with a crick in her neck. Why does her neck hurt? She is lying on the bathroom floor. The cold of the slate tiles has bled into her. Standing, she goes to the bathroom door and grips the handle.

  The door opens smoothly.

  Kate emerges from the bathroom. Everything in the hall is as it was. The television is off and the plates have been cleared into the kitchen. The bedroom door is closed – later, Tony will tell her that he went to bed early. He will tell her that the bathroom door must have jammed.

  She goes to the kitchen, where the under-cabinet lighting illuminates the room like a shop that’s been shut for the night. She runs a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table, thinking about nothing. Her mind is blank, as though she vomited everything up.

  When reality bleeds back, Kate stands and scrapes the plates into the bin. She loads and runs the dishwasher, then washes out the foil containers in the sink. When she comes to put them in the recycling bin, it’s already full, so she fetches a plastic bag from the cupboard and empties the tins and wine bottles into it.

  Something catches her eye, in the shadowy space behind where the recycling bin sits. There is no back to this cupboard – the pipes from the sink and the dishwasher are exposed, and there’s a gap at the back where things sometimes get lost. Kate takes out the bins and fishes in the cobwebbed space behind them. She pulls out the thing that caught her eye – a used tissue. Then, because she’s already put her hand in there, she feels around for anything else.

  She finds a crisp packet, the foil top from a milk bottle and …

  A dark square. Kate’s breath catches. She takes the square from the cupboard. Not a white square, but a dark one.

  It’s a beermat.

  A beermat with a number written on it. It must have fallen behind the recycling bin when she threw it in. Five months ago.

  Kate holds it for a moment, as though she’s found a loaded gun, then carefully places it on the kitchen table. She finishes putting the recycling away, wipes down all the surfaces with antibacterial spray, washes her water glass and puts it on the rack. Then she sits down at the table again, types the number from the beermat into her phone, and starts to write a message.

  Hi, Nova, this is Kate. We met at the hospital. I’m really sorry I’ve been ignoring you … things have been crazy. I was wondering if you’d like to go out some time? x

  She hits Send, then sits in the twilight of the kitchen, staring at the bright screen. After five minutes, she puts her phone away and goes to brush her teeth. It’s the middle of the night – no way she’s getting a reply now. Just as she’s about to push the bedroom door open, she feels the phone buzz gently against her leg like an animal rubbing against her. She jumps.

  Hey there, invisible woman. Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.

  Kate is already typing as she walks back to the kitchen.

  I know, I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. Let me make it up to you?

  She watches, holding her breath, until she sees that Nova is typing a message. Does she type? Kate doesn’t know. Maybe she dictates. Or maybe she can type now that her vision has improved. A flurry of messages come through.

  You’re not an idiot.

  Want to take me to the zoo?

  I want to see a giraffe, because I’m pretty sure they’re a cruel hoax aimed at blind people.

  Kate is already laughing, and the knot in her stomach loosens as she types back.

  Shit, you’ve called our bluff.

  I knew it!!!

  Eleven

  December

  ‘HAVE YOU BEEN TO a zoo before?’

  ‘Once, when I was very young. Some charity arranged for us blind kids to come and handle the animals. I held a corn snake – it was cool, like a bar of soap, but then it moved …’

  Nova is dressed in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, grey waistcoat and matching trousers, with a faux-mil
itary coat with gold brocade that makes her look like a pirate. Kate is wearing a blouse with a tweed skirt. It’s a work outfit, one that Tony approves of. She feels dowdy, and wonders if Nova can tell.

  ‘I never thought I’d come back here. It’s not much fun when you can’t see the animals …’

  Nova laughs, but Kate isn’t sure what to say. She’s wondering why she got in touch with her again – it just seemed like a good idea at the time. But what seemed natural in the dark of her kitchen seems stupid in the bright sunlight of London Zoo. It’s early on a weekday, and the schools haven’t broken up for the Christmas holidays yet, so it isn’t busy. Nova works shifts and Kate has flexible hours, so a quiet day in London is one of the perks.

  Kate feels the invisible cord linking her to home. It is always there, but for now it is yielding, compliant, docile. Now that she is with Nova, she hardly notices it.

  Nova is wearing regular sunglasses, not the ones they gave her in the hospital. In the light, Kate can see her eyes behind the yellow-tinted glass, like another part of the zoo, something that has to be kept in the shade. She’d stood on tiptoes to hug Kate and peck her on the cheek.

  ‘Prendiamo un caffé, bella signorina?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Ah, so you weren’t joking about not speaking Italian.’ She laughed. ‘Do you mind if we get some breakfast? I’m afraid I slept in.’

  They sit in the first café they find in the zoo, Nova hanging onto Kate’s arm. They find a table and Kate fetches two breakfast rolls and two coffees.

  ‘I forgot to ask if you take milk?’

  ‘Black as night for me.’ Nova says. ‘Well, not the London night, you know? I was quite excited to see stars, but so far I haven’t managed more than an incoming passenger jet. I did see the moon though – that was awesome.’

  She puts her hand on Kate’s arm for emphasis, and Kate feels a rush of warmth at the brief contact. Nova talks with her hands, and Kate wonders if she always did that, or if she recently learned.

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, though I thought it was a streetlamp at first. I had to ask someone. But then I just started crying, because there it was – the most distant thing I’ve ever seen, four hundred thousand kilometres away, and I can see it. And I’m just sobbing in front of this stranger!’

  Nova is laughing, but Kate feels awkward and changes the subject.

  ‘I have my coffee with gallons of milk and four sugars. Very un-Italian.’ Kate sips her drink. Nova slurps hers exaggeratedly.

  ‘Ahh, liquid love! I’ve been so dopey since I started taking the Valium they gave me.’

  ‘That’s what they gave me.’

  ‘Worryingly moreish, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s not like they do much anyway – when I go out I want to take one, but when I take one I don’t want to go out.’

  ‘What about now? No pre-date nerves?’ Nova raises an eyebrow. For a second, Kate is too taken aback to say anything, then decides the younger woman is joking. She’s not sure what game she’s playing – why she hasn’t told Nova about Tony. She’s wearing her wedding ring, but isn’t sure whether the interpreter can see it, or whether she understands the significance.

  ‘I’m clean, other than cigarettes, of which I smoked two on the way here.’

  ‘Naughty – you’ll get a habit!’ Nova bites into her breakfast roll – a white bap with a fried egg and brown sauce. ‘So,’ she mumbles with a full mouth, ‘how’s it going? The anxiety?’

  Kate sighs – a mixture of frustration and relief to be talking about it. Somehow, she can say these things to Nova. ‘It’s okay. I work from home a lot … the radio keeps me company. I’ve never listened to the Shipping Forecast before in my life.’

  ‘Ah, the Shipping Forecast! I practically live by the World Service schedule.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure – I don’t always sleep so well. I put the radio on and listen until I drift off.’

  Kate watches as Nova opens and closes her eyes. She seems determined to use her sight more, but keeps her eyes closed half the time, as though resting.

  ‘How’s it going? Fluent in seeing yet?’

  Nova smiles, surprised that Kate has remembered her turn of phrase after half a year.

  ‘Nope, not even close. It’s been the best part of a year since my operation, and sometimes I feel no better than when they took the bandages off. I’m still using these’ – She fishes one of the packs of flashcards from her coat – ‘so I don’t forget what a bloody hexagon looks like.’

  ‘Well, you seem better, to me.’

  Nova shrugs noncommittally. ‘Yesterday, I spent a long time staring at a thing in my kitchen. I was convinced it was an animal that had found its way in to eat the contents of my cupboards.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘A pineapple.’

  They finish breakfast, Nova takes Kate’s arm again, and they start to walk around the zoo. Kate watches the clouds on Nova’s lips as she talks into the winter air.

  ‘Thanks for being my chaperone.’

  ‘Thank you for coming. People must think we’re a couple,’ Kate replies, immediately regretting her words. Why did she say that?

  Nova flashes her a grin. ‘Then people must be jealous of my cute girlfriend.’

  Kate’s heart leaps like a salmon jumping a waterfall.

  Just ahead of them, a little girl lets go of the helium balloon she’s holding – a silver heart with HAPPY BIRTHDAY in pink letters – and lets out a cry as it sails up into the air.

  RULE OF SEEING NO.142

  When seeing a balloon disappearing up into the sky, it is easy to feel that the balloon is stationary, and it is you who are falling. Try not to panic.

  Nova squeezes Kate’s arm, who searches for something to say.

  ‘Where did you grow up?’ she asks, as they study an enclosure of damp sticks and leaves that may or may not contain capuchin monkeys.

  ‘Oop North,’ Nova replies in an exaggerated accent.

  ‘I can tell that.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m not exactly hiding it. I grew up in Bradford. My parents are teachers there.’

  ‘You didn’t want to stay?’

  Nova just shrugs.

  ‘I dunno. There wasn’t much for me to do there. Why did you want to be an architect?’

  Kate, glad for the change of subject, starts to talk about the trip to Venice when she was nine, to meet her mother’s relatives. They wander as she remembers.

  ‘And I just thought – I didn’t even know buildings could look like that! So colourful and pretty. It sounds dumb, but I just thought that people over here would love buildings like that, if someone would just build them.’

  ‘Was that when your dad bought you the drawing book?’

  ‘Uh, yeah, I suppose it was …’ Kate says, startled that Nova has remembered this detail. ‘Anyway, my mum always said that being an artist wasn’t a proper job, but I still loved drawing, so when I saw those buildings, I felt like I’d discovered a secret niche I could fit into, that nobody else had fitted into before. Like nobody from England had ever visited Italy!’ She laughs at the memory. ‘You probably think that’s dumb.’

  Nova cocks her head. ‘You call yourself dumb a lot, you know. And, no, I don’t think that’s dumb, but I don’t really understand. Buildings are just buildings. You live in them. Or buy baked beans in them. Or go swimming in them.’ She’s grinning shyly. ‘I didn’t really think that buildings looked like anything. Just shapes … spaces.’

  Kate smiles. ‘Shapes and spaces – that’s a very popular way of looking at architecture these days.’

  ‘But you don’t see it that way?’

  ‘No … It’s like music that’s all drums and bass. There’s a shape there. But it’s missing something that brings it to life. For me. Anyway, I’m boring you.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You should relax; you don’t have to entertain me.’

  Kate is not sure whether this statement m
akes her feel better or worse.

  ‘Anyway, you should go to Venice.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Nova looks at her, eyebrow quirking up.

  ‘Yeah, you know, if you’re looking for things to see. You should see Venice.’ Kate can feel herself blushing.

  Nova smiles.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  The first outdoor enclosure they come to is the penguins, who are very active. They swim, dive off rocks and waddle from one place to another. Nova raises her sunglasses, transfixed, and Kate watches her eyes trace one, then another, as they move through the water.

  ‘What can you see?’

  ‘Well, are they all the same thing?’

  ‘The same animal? Yes, they’re all …’ Kate reads the sign, ‘Humboldt penguins.’

  ‘But they look so different when they’re in the water!’

  ‘Yeah – I guess they’re not best suited to walking. Here, come look at this.’

  Kate leads her down a short ramp next to the pool, at the end of which is a concave glass window showing the pool underwater. As they watch, a penguin dives, corkscrewing down through the water, bubbles of air rolling off him in silvery threads.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Nova exclaims.

  Kate watches the other woman out of the corner of her eye, wanting to be the person to show everything to her.

  Next is the butterfly house, a humid room full of tropical plants. As soon as they push through the protective plastic curtains at the entrance, butterflies flicker around them. Nova squints at the room.

  ‘Can you see them?’ Kate asks

  ‘Not really. They move too fast against the leaves, but I can see their colours. That one’s blue!’

  She points to a huge, swooping butterfly, which a display tells Kate is a blue morpho. Its wings are an electric, iridescent blue. A man next to them turns and frowns as though Nova is stupid, but she doesn’t notice. Kate scowls back and he turns away. They walk slowly, as zebra longwings and owl moths glide and flutter around them. A Madagascan comet moth – banana yellow and big as a hand – rests briefly on Nova’s forehead, its long tails tickling her nose, before flying away again, leaving her in fits of giggles.