Hear Me

by Julia North

  I will myself to respond to Nat’s touch and manage a slight squeeze.

  ‘She just squeezed my hand. Feel, Elsa … feel.’ Nat lets go my hand and I feel another hand close around mine and give a gentle squeeze. I respond.

  ‘Nat’s right,’ says Elsa. ‘She just squeezed mine too, Doctor.’

  ‘Probably a slight muscle spasm. She’s in a deep coma. She won’t be able to respond.’

  ‘She just did. Don’t discount it,’ Elsa snaps.

  ‘We’ll keep a careful eye on her. She’s hooked up to the latest machinery. You can see that.’

  Dr Rajeet’s tone holds a hint of disdain.

  ‘We need to make sure we do everything we can for her. She’s our … baby sister.’ Elsa’s voice cracks as she utters the words.

  ‘I promise we’ll do everything we can. Does she suffer from epilepsy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How long was she drinking?’

  ‘She’d been to rehab … she was off it until this …’ says Elsa.

  ‘It’s easy to give in,’ says Dr Rajeet. ‘I’m sorry to say it but it’s probably drink which has caused this.’

  ‘Surely she would have had to be doing it again for a while,’ says Elsa. ‘She’s only been out of rehab four weeks. Eunice, have you seen her drink anything in that time?’

  ‘Akukho, only see the empty whiskey bottle today. Nothing before that since Melissa come out of the drink hospital.’

  ‘You see!’ demands Elsa. ‘She hasn’t been drinking for weeks or anything like that!’

  ‘If she had a great deal in one night then this can do it, especially if she has a history. The pyjamas we cut from her stank of alcohol. She must have had a lot. We will test for liver and other organ damage and also X-ray her brain. How old is she?’

  ‘Twenty-eight,’ says Nat. ‘but my sister’s right. If she’d been drinking again for a while we’d have known. I’ve seen her nearly every day since she came out. She was stone cold sober every time. I promise you she was.’

  ‘We need to examine every possibility, Doctor. Can anything else besides alcohol do this?’ Elsa’s tone is clipped and official, and she’s obviously in lawyer mode.

  ‘Ja, there’s a few things. Do you know if she took drugs?’

  ‘No, I’m sure she never took any,’ says Elsa.

  ‘Okay, we’ll look back at her records. We’ll leave you for a while to sit with your sister and then I’m sorry, you’ll all have to go. We’ll phone you if anything happens,’ says Dr Rajeet.

  ‘You mean if she dies?’ whispers Nat. ‘She’s not going to die, is she …?’

  Dr Rajeet remains silent and my pulse quickens. I don’t want to die. Please God, don’t let me die. I hear the double doors swoosh open again and footsteps hurry in.

  A nurse calls out, ‘You must put on a cap and slippers first – and wash your hands.’ The footsteps stop and seconds later hurry in my direction.

  ‘What’s happened to Liss? What happened?’

  Oh Lord! I don’t want Karlos to see me like this. I really don’t.

  ‘I thought maybe you could tell us.’ Elsa’s voice is filled with bitterness. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘I just went to the gym at 5am … when I came back Lissa was gone. The neighbour told me about the ambulance. H … how is she?’

  ‘Not too fucking good, actually,’ Elsa’s tone is hard and condemning.

  ‘I’m sorry … I had no idea she was drinking. I don’t understand what has happened. I really don’t,’ mumbles Karlos.

  ‘Well, she apparently was drinking? Eunice found an empty whiskey bottle in the house. Weren’t you with her?’ demands Elsa.

  ‘I never saw anything … I don’t know … but maybe she was …’ Karlos’ voice rises and fills with anger, ‘maybe she hid it from me … I don’t know. Alcoholics do that, you know … I never gave her any.’

  My mind whirls with confusion. I don’t remember drinking. When did I even buy it? How could Karlos think I would hide that from him? I just don’t know … But Eunice found the bottle and my pyjamas stank of booze … did I drink? Did I hide it from Karlos? Oh God, did I?

  ‘You cannot shout in here,’ says the nurse sternly. ‘I think you must go now. Say goodbye and please go. We will call you if we need to.’

  They fall silent and I smell the Aramis aftershave I bought Karlos as he leans over and his lips touch my forehead. ‘Get better soon, Liss … please get better,’ he rasps, breaking into a loud sob seconds later. A mix of hopelessness and gratitude washes over me. I can hear from his voice that he really does love me. He sounds so broken, so distressed. How cruel, that just when I had one shot at real happiness again, this has to happen. Why did I have a drink? Why have the cards of time dealt me another joker? Wasn’t the last card bad enough? Where the hell’s my pack of Happy Families?

  Chapter 20

  A shudder passes through me as the tape is taken from my eyes and I blink rapidly as the misty ward comes into focus.

  ‘She is waking doctor.’

  ‘Thank you, Pumza.’

  Hands tug at my gown. Something’s pressing down on my throat; it moves. I stare blurrily up at the ceiling. The blades of a white painted fan rotate over me, their steady beat blending with the ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the heart monitor. The air smells so sharply of antiseptic I can taste it. I glance to the side. The doctor’s hand comes in to view and rests on my throat. I feel a surge of movement. My throat closes. Shit, I’m not breathing. I try to move my hands but they lie lead heavy at my sides. My heart thuds in my ears. Why can’t I move? Why?

  A face comes into view. ‘Welcome back. I’m Dr Rajeet. You’ve been in a deep sleep for six weeks. Your family will be very happy to see you back.’

  Dr Rajeet pushes his hands down on each side of my ribs and then checks the tube rising from my throat. ‘Your body did not want to breathe on its own,’ he said. ‘We’ve given you a tracheotomy. We must hope that your brain will sometime tell your body to breathe again. These things take time.’

  My legs jerk involuntarily and the doctor glances over at them.

  ‘You’re still convulsing a little; I’m afraid you’ll find you can’t move your arms and legs yet, but you should have feeling from the neck up. We’ll take you down to the General Ward later today. Try and rest now.’

  Sardonic laughter trembles through me. I can hardly do anything but rest if all I can move is my head. Everything is surreal. I’m like the living dead. Have I really been brought out of my coma for this? A cloud of darkness descends and I squeeze my eyelids closed. Oh God! I don’t want to live like this.

  ‘I am going to give you something to calm you.’ Dr Rajeet holds a syringe, ready to attack.

  ‘Of course I won’t fucking feel anything if I’m paralysed.’ I feel like screaming at him, but of course talking, like walking, is not an option. The depth of helplessness swamps over me. I just want to die. ‘Please God, take me,’ I scream inside as the panic of my paralysis prickles over me like an uncontrolled bush fire. I lie burning for a few seconds, screaming inside, before a welcome womb of blackness rises up and covers me.

  When I next open my eyes I’m being wheeled down a long, dirty corridor with footsteps clip-clopping loudly behind me.

  Elsa’s earnest face, framed by her high advocate collar, peers down at me from the side of my trolley. She must’ve come straight from court for my grand exit from ICU. ‘We’re taking you down to the General Ward, Liss.’ She tries to smile but can hardly manage it.

  Nat’s voice is locked in a high falsetto but I can hear the tears behind it. ‘We’re both here with you, Liss. Don’t worry it’s going to be okay …’ She scurries up on the other side of me and gives me a false smile.

  Despite their pained expressions they both look so normal, so clean and smelling of bloody Chanel! I, on the other hand, am in an ugly hospital gown and undoubtedly look and smell like shit. Oh the joys!

  ‘You’ll be okay. It’ll just t
ake time, that’s all,’ says Elsa.

  ‘Yes, you’ll be okay.’

  I snap my head to the side. Karlos has joined us. Can it get any worse? He’s the last one I want here. I don’t want him to see me like this: a half-human, damaged thing. I’m no longer capable of being his girlfriend. I close my eyes to shut him out. This can’t be real; it can’t be happening. It’s just got to be a nightmare. One fucking, gigantic living nightmare!

  I open my eyes again as they wheel me into the General Ward. It’s filled with groaning, writhing bodies and third-world chaos. We wheel towards a bed tucked away in a far corner, past a young woman whose bloodied bandages cover her arms and head. She’s groaning to herself and obviously in great pain. I look away. I’m obviously one of the privileged few because I still need a drip.

  ‘We can’t leave her here,’ whispers Nat. ‘We can’t. It’s too awful.’

  ‘Ja, I agree,’ says Karlos, ‘but the doctor said she must stay in case she needs to go back to ICU.’

  ‘So much for Mandela’s new South Africa! This wasn’t what I envisaged. Why didn’t they take her to a private hospital, for goodness’ sake?’ Nat’s voice is tight with anger.

  ‘They didn’t know if she had any medical aid. That’s why they brought her here. You phoned the ambulance, Nat, not me.’

  ‘They didn’t ask me about medical aid or money. I would’ve told them it wasn’t a problem.’ Nat’s eyes fill with tears. ‘They just said they had to bring her here and I was in too much shock to argue,’ she snaps. ‘If you’d been there when the fitting started, Liss might never have got this bad.’ She glares at him and slaps the tears off her cheeks.

  My face grows hot. I wish I could just tell them all to ‘Shut the fuck up’. How dare they talk about me like I’m not even here? Why don’t they all just go? I just want to be alone.

  ‘I phoned Hillcrest Hospital this morning. They may have space,’ says Elsa. ‘Dr Rajeet said he’ll get her records over to them. They’re a specialist hospital who’ll give her the best.’

  Karlos’ voice rises. ‘When is she going?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ snaps Elsa, glaring at Karlos, ‘As soon as the doctor says she can. Probably tomorrow it she’s still stable when he checks her later. We’re not letting her stay here one second longer than she has to.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Nat’s face crumples with relief. ‘Let’s hope it’s tomorrow.’

  Elsa narrows her eyes at Karlos. She lowers her voice and speaks in a voice filled with venom. ‘I want to make something very clear …’ She pauses and moves closer to Karlos. ‘I don’t know how the fuck Liss has ended up like this, but you tell those other rubbish from the rehab to keep the hell away. Dr Rajeet said that some woman with pink hair and two men wanted to see Lissa when she was in ICU. Said they knew her from Shaloma. Luckily I’d told him no visitors except us. The last thing she needs is that type coming here.’

  Karlos’ eyebrows lift in surprise. What the hell were they doing here? Come to gloat no doubt? I look at Elsa with relief. Thank God she didn’t let them see me.

  My sisters and Karlos stand at my bedside looking down at me. I screw my eyes shut to escape their pity. ‘Please God, save me from this living hell,’ I plead silently, ‘or at least give me a drink.’ If ever there was a need for a case of Johnny Walker, this is it.

  Karlos’ lips touch my forehead in a hard kiss. ‘I’ll see you later before I go to the meeting.’ I open my eyes, but already his broad frame is marching out of the ward.

  Nat pulls a face and Elsa bites her lip as they look down at me.

  ‘Mom and Yvonne send their love,’ whispers Nat, bending over me. ‘Mom’s too distraught to come. We’ll bring her to Hillcrest as soon as you’re there.’

  An old African woman next to me suddenly starts singing loudly to herself.

  ‘Looks like she’s having fun,’ whispers Nat, giving me a wry smile. ‘Hope she won’t keep you awake.’

  Despite everything my mind smiles, convinced that it has to be some kind of a black comedy. This ward of overflowing broken bodies and me. It can’t be real. It can’t be …

  ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, Lissakins. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure we get you to Hillcrest ASAP. I promise,’ whispers Elsa, kissing the top of my head.

  Her words make me yearn to be young again. I squeeze my eyes tight. I just need someone to help me, to take care of me, and the only one who can do that now is God. My mind drifts back to the first time I met Him at that revival meeting. He was real then. Please let him be so still.

  Chapter 21

  Dad puts his arm around me as we walk away from the car park and across dark, crunchy grass to a big tent with lights around it. The air is warm and the dark sky is filled with millions of stars. A round yellow moon shines down on us. I turn and look back at Nat and Elsa who’re walking with Mom.

  The sound of drums and loud singing and clapping mixed with guitar music thumps out from the big tent. Dad pushes back the canvas flap. It’s as big as a circus tent inside and is so full of people that I can smell their sweat. ‘Hallelujah to the Lord’ rings out in song, while a band with guitars and bongo drums plays loudly from a stage in front. An old white man in a wrinkled brown suit pushes through the crowd, waving his hand and smiling at us.

  ‘Len Furnwood. Welcome, brother. Welcome, sisters,’ he shakes Dad’s hand. ‘We’ve still get some seats at the back.’

  Dad introduces us and we follow him.

  I hear Nat giggle behind me. ‘What’s with all this “brother, sister” stuff?’

  ‘Weird,’ says Elsa.

  I follow behind Dad and Len until we get to a row of orange plastic seats on the other side of the tent.

  ‘There should be space for you here. May God bless you in the service.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dad says. He puts his hand behind my back and helps me squeeze past an African man and a fat woman to get to our seats. The woman’s wearing the green and white uniform of the Zulu Zionist church and the man is dressed in a black suit like he’s a priest. They smile, and it makes me feel warm inside. I thought all the Africans would hate us because of what happened to those children in Soweto. The horrid picture from the TV of Hector Peterson covered in blood from police bullets flashes through my mind. It pushes bitter water into my mouth, making me retch. Dad says it’s because the government was forcing the children to have their lessons in Afrikaans and it made them riot so the police started shooting at them. He says it’s disgusting and Mom says the country is going to explode now like a grenade. I shiver inside. How could the police shoot children? I look around. The tent is filled with white, Indian and African people. Everyone here is happy together, singing loudly, and some even have their arms lifted up and their eyes closed. Lots of others clap to the music. Why can’t all churches do this?

  On the stage is a big wooden cross and a man about Dad’s age. He’s quite handsome and tanned with thick black hair which looks like it has been slicked back with oil. His eyes are closed and he sings loudly.

  The smell of beetlenut is strong. It reminds me of the Indian shop that used to be at the top of our road before the government made them move. There’s a row of Indian woman in bright saris of gold, red and peacock blue in front of me. They’re holding their hands high in the air and shouting out ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus’. Then they sing ‘Angels bow before him’ in loud voices. More African women wearing the clothes of the Zionist church woman stand near the front, waving their arms in the air and dancing. The tent shakes from all the singing and I’m not sure if I should also sing with my arms up high. I can only see five other white people.

  I grow warm inside, like I did when I first tasted the gin. It’s so nice to be in a tent with all these different people, but at the same time it feels a bit weird. A trickle of fear runs through me. I hope the police don’t come in and arrest us. Mom thinks that they’ll be breaking down our door to take Dad away if he doesn’t stop helping Thabo and Isaac. Goosebumps prickle
over my arms and my heart jumps to my ears. I look up at Dad. He looks happy and doesn’t look scared of anything. He’s watching the stage where the band with guitars and bongo drums is playing. I let out a shaky breath; it must be okay if he’s not worried. The song changes and everyone begins singing, ‘What a mighty God we serve, what a mighty God we serve,’ and clapping loudly. Then they start to shout out the name of Jesus, and praise his power. Many of them are shaking like they’re really cold, and one of the Zionist church women moves into the aisle to dance, still shouting out the name of Jesus.

  The air buzzes with invisible power. I shiver and take Dad’s hand. The pastor talks in a strange language, shouting out as he walks across the stage. His head is thrown back and his eyes shine. Other people in the tent lift up their arms and call out in the same strange language.

  ‘What’re they saying?’

  Dad lifts his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know.’

  Elsa stands very still. Her face is like wood and her blue eyes are serious. Mom shakes her head and sits down in her seat. I’m beginning to wish Dad had listened to Mom. I don’t know if I want to stay any more. I sit down and lean back into my chair.

  ‘This is a different kind of church, hey, Liss,’ Nat says.

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  Elsa turns sharply to me. ‘It’s nice to be in a multi-racial service.’

  I pull a face but stay in my seat. The pastor begins to talk. He thumps the pulpit. ‘You must be born again,’ he shouts, looking at us with fierce eyes. ‘You know not the time or the place. Jesus will come like the thief in the night, and if you’re not ready it will be too late. Don’t let it happen.’ His eyes fill with tears. ‘Nkosi loves us; all of us. He wants to save you. All you have to do is ask him into your heart. Don’t play with eternity. Don’t play with your soul. Don’t go to an eternity of damnation in hell because you are too proud to admit your sin.’

  His words hit into me and my heart pounds. My mind jumps back to Aunty Yvonne’s farm and the gin. I’d pinched more of it at home without anyone knowing. I know in my heart it’s wrong. I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to go to hell.