Talking to Addison

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘You know, we’re all terribly upset about your boyfriend.’

  I glanced over. Candice was signing autographs for several of the nursing staff, and giggling.

  ‘Yeh? What’s his name?’

  ‘Look, obviously you’re upset. What Candice thought was that perhaps we could take you aside when we film the next bit and interview you about … how emotional it is for you, your long lonely vigil at the bedside of your beloved, that kind of thing.’

  ‘We’ve only been here three days.’

  ‘Yeh, well, whatever. We think it could really add something to the piece.’

  A thought occurred to me.

  ‘Well, there was something we were thinking of doing that could really help …’

  And I told him about Chali’s band.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Hmm, ya. Maybe we could have it as the finale … can they do something really sad? Do you think they know “O Little Town of Bethlehem”?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  He called Candice over and explained the idea. Candice looked me up and down again, as if unable to believe that a thought or fully formed sentence could have come out of my mouth.

  ‘What are the band called?’

  ‘Mr Big and the Spangles.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of them.’

  I was surprised at this, but I found out later that Candice had to pretend to have heard of everyone, in case they were incredibly cool and she looked like she was missing out.

  ‘So, they’ll be all right then?’

  ‘Yeh, sure, that’ll be fine. Jazz up this piece of crap anyway. Oh, sorry.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  Really, it was going to be worth it just to see Dr Hitler’s face.

  ‘What was all that all about?’ hissed Kate.

  ‘Oh, yeh, we were talking about you and Josh.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No!’

  Candice went through her piece to camera twice more, then the entourage moved off to paediatrics.

  ‘Have you got any undersized children?’ she was saying as they left. ‘Maybe we can poke them a little, get them to move about a bit.’

  Dr Hitler stalked past us and slammed the ward door behind them.

  ‘I hope I’m not going to have to ban all visitors,’ she said, brusquely changing Addison’s drip.

  We stared at her in horror.

  ‘You couldn’t do that!’

  ‘Really, am I the only one thinking of the patients around here?’

  We left Magda crooning a Croatian lullaby to Addison. We figured he’d probably have had enough excitement for one night.

  Josh was at home steaming vegetables.

  ‘Are you trying to lose weight?’ asked Kate accusingly.

  He blinked at her.

  ‘Maybe just a bit. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Kate miserably, and went off on her own.

  ‘She must really be missing that John guy,’ mused Josh.

  ‘Everyone’s missing somebody,’ I said pointedly, and toyed with a wet string bean. And ached for my own wet string bean.

  ‘Who do I have to sleep with?’ asked Chali excitedly.

  ‘No one!’

  ‘You asked for a gig and got it, just like that?’

  ‘Yup. And they need me – I’m like, grieving widow.’

  ‘You did tell them what kind of a band we are?’

  ‘What kind of a band are you? They want you to do “O Little Town of Bethlehem”.’

  ‘We can do “Little Girls Dead in the Park”.’

  ‘Oh God. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.’

  Chali grabbed me. ‘And there’s going to be TV people there and everything?’

  ‘Lights, cameras, make-up people – it could be your big break!’

  ‘And I don’t even … I mean, surely somebody wants a blow job?’

  ‘Somebody always wants a blow job,’ I said, to the consternation of the man picking the largest, tackiest bunch of red roses we had out of their bucket. ‘I mean, just look at him.’

  ‘I think that’s a “brown wings” bunch of roses,’ said Chali. ‘It’s the biggest one in the shop.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be his girlfriend tonight.’

  ‘Oh no. Sore.’

  The man hastily paid for his purchase and scampered off.

  ‘You’re not really a filthy heavy metal band are you?’

  ‘Oh yes we are. I don’t suppose they’ll want to hear “I Wish I Could Die Every Day”?’

  ‘Ehmm … what about “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day”?’

  ‘This could be tricky.’ Chali nodded her head. ‘I’m going to have to give this some serious thought.’

  ‘OK, well, they’re shooting next Monday, so be ready.’

  ‘Huh! Even the roadies know me as “ever ready”.’

  ‘Especially the roadies, surely?’

  I was amazed by how quickly my life had fallen into a routine. I got up, I went to work, I slacked off, then I went and sat with Addison for as long as I could. That was it. Plus occasional refereeing between Kate and Josh. It terrified me to think that this could go on for years. At what point, say the worst came to the worst, would I feel obliged to pack it in? Would I end up like Miss Havisham, doing the same thing every day, waiting for a kiss that was never going to come? Watching his beautiful face grow sunken from lack of use? Or worse, even – I pictured myself looking stoic but noble, as, with trembling hand and swelling choir, the machines were slowly switched off …

  Two days after the attractive television incident, after daily hours of reading, talking and humming occasionally, I went in one rainy afternoon, shaking my head like a dog as I stomped up the stairs, through the familiar antiseptic-and-poor-people hospital fug. Patients cluttered around the doors, still smoking cigarettes with their drips in. Everyone looked as grey and worn as an old bra strap, including, I supposed, me. My grooming standards, never tip-top at the best of times, were gradually deteriorating. Putting on make-up felt like a betrayal.

  As I paused at the door, Stephen crept up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. In my reverie – I was standing at the graveside looking elegant, I think – I wasn’t paying attention and jumped six feet in the air.

  ‘WHAT?’

  Stephen looked hurt.

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to ask you what you thought of my new streaks.’

  The top of his hair had gone a tacky, eighties-style blond, which didn’t fit in well with his black spiky style.

  ‘Club Tropicana?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘Are you going in for the super-gay awards?’

  He smiled modestly. ‘Are they really that good?’

  ‘You’re hyped up about this date, aren’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Go on, admit it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, it makes a change from preaching to the converted.’

  ‘OK … good luck.’

  ‘Do you think I’m going to need it?’

  ‘Stephen, I have known Josh for ten years … and I have no idea.’

  ‘Oh well, it’ll be a shoo-in, then. It’s the really hetty bastards you have to watch out for.’

  ‘Oh,’ he added almost as an afterthought, ‘and there’s a new visitor today.’

  ‘No, that’s me – I just forgot to wash my hair,’ I said.

  ‘Behind the curtain. Definitely a fully signed-up member of the dweeb-o-rama brigade.’

  Oh my God. It dawned on me instantly who the visitor had to be – let’s face it, Addison’s wide circle of friends had already been more or less exhausted. I winced when I thought of the alacrity with which I’d chucked Finn out on his ear when confronted with Add in the hallway – it seemed so long ago.

  I peeked tentatively round the curtain of Addison’s bed.

  Finn was sitting on the bed, his corduroy trousers hitched up, his satchel on the floor, facing Addison, who looked as dead as he usually did. Finn was concentrating hard on something
balanced on the sheet between them.

  ‘OK, right, knight to knight’s rook four,’ he was saying. I realized he’d set up a chessboard between them. He stared at it for a long time.

  ‘Oh, good move, Add.’

  I moved closer, and inadvertently tripped on a trolley containing various dodgy stainless steel things that extracted Addison’s poo or something. At least they were clean.

  ‘Shite!’

  Finn jumped up, upending the chessboard and scattering pieces everywhere.

  ‘Jesus!’

  We stood staring at each other, surrounded by detritus. The curtain was whipped back by Dr Hitler.

  ‘What the hell is going on in here?’

  Finn and I looked shamefacedly at each other.

  ‘Oh. You,’ she said to me. ‘Do you actually want him to get better?’

  ‘I thought the loud noise might … wake him up?’ I said pathetically.

  ‘Been reading up on the clinical trials, have we?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor … it won’t happen again,’ said Finn.

  ‘Oh? Who the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m Dr Feynman Levy,’ he said, proffering a hand.

  ‘Oh … right,’ she said, clearly disconcerted. She pushed back her thick hair and grinned at him almost coyly. ‘I’m sorry … I didn’t realize there was work going on.’

  What was this magic effect Finn had on weird scientist girlies?

  ‘Is she bothering you?’

  What? I shot her a dirty look. Finn laughed.

  ‘Yes, actually, she bugs the hell out of me. But I’m sure it would be OK if she stayed.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, Mr Cat Doctor,’ I said when she’d gone, casting Finn a backwards glance that implied she’d quite like to square the root on his hypotenuse.

  ‘I’m not a cat doctor.’

  ‘Cats … wool … whatever it is.’

  ‘String.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘Well, I got rid of her, didn’t I?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Next time I’m sending locusts,’ came the voice from the next bed. I popped my head out.

  ‘Hello, God.’

  Finn popped his head out too.

  ‘Are you God?’

  God did his best to appear modest.

  ‘Well, you know …’

  ‘Huh. I don’t believe in you,’ Finn said.

  ‘Really? Most people, a place like this – they at least make an odds-on bet.’

  Finn nodded. ‘I see your point. Well, very nice to meet you. Ehm … would you mind telling me how the universe works?

  ‘Worth a shot,’ he said to me quietly.

  ‘Anything’s better than that spaghetti thing you believe in,’ I said.

  ‘String.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said God. ‘Really, you wouldn’t like it if you knew.’

  ‘Trust me – I’m a physicist.’

  God contemplated it for a bit.

  ‘Well, you know, to demonstrate it properly I’ll need a bottle of whisky.’

  Finn glanced at me, and I shook my head fiercely.

  ‘I don’t think …’

  ‘Ach, you physicists – all the same. You think you want to know, but you don’t really – it’d put you out of a job.’

  And He immediately fell asleep, snoring loudly.

  Finn smiled at me.

  ‘Well … hello again.’

  ‘Hello,’ I said shyly. ‘Ehm, I’m sorry I didn’t …’

  He shushed me. ‘Not at all. I didn’t realize … until Kate told me.’

  We looked at Addison.

  ‘It’s very sad,’ said Finn.

  ‘Kate thinks she’s got it worked out,’ I said. ‘Lots of singing and stuff.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  I moved round to the other side of the bed and picked up one of Addison’s hands, trying to warm it. Finn started crawling around, picking up chess pieces and metal implements.

  ‘Can you give us a song?’ I asked.

  ‘Absolutely not. Really, I’ve got a note from my mother.’

  ‘What were you doing when I came in?’

  He held up the board. ‘Well, there’s this game, you see, which was invented in the Middle East …’

  ‘No, I know that much, you pillock. I mean, why?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, I can’t sing, so …’

  ‘Do you think it’s helping?’

  ‘I can’t tell … Still, he was winning.’

  I picked up one of the pieces. ‘How do you play this anyway?’

  ‘You don’t know how to play chess?’

  ‘No, and I didn’t buy my teacher a Christmas present either. Or hang around the computer lab at break-time.’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘Yeah, like I really missed out on learning how to smoke cigarettes.’

  ‘Oh my God – I know what you are! You’re a Teacher Pleaser! Teacher Pleaser!’

  He hit me with a castley thing. ‘Thank you for adding another five years on to my therapy bill. Now, do you want to learn or not?’

  ‘OK,’ I said, sitting down. ‘Did it upset you that you were too well behaved to get detention, when it would have meant more school, which you would have loved?’

  He ignored me. ‘OK. This is a prawn. This is a bish. And these are horsies. Horsies can jump.’

  I eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘What do the bishes do then? Swing both ways?’

  ‘Yes, in a manner of speaking.’

  So I sat next to him on the bed, and he taught me to play chess. Despite desperately doing his best to lose, it was physically impossible. I blamed all my moves on Addison and said he was psychically guiding me, but unfortunately not quite enough to save my queen from suicide missions.

  After the third game, when I had taken to making all my lost pieces have little biting fights with each other, he said, ‘So …’ in that way that means, ‘OK, enough fun and games young lady.’

  ‘So …’ I said. He looked at me, imploring me in a boyish way to, you know, talk about things and that, being the girl and everything.

  ‘So …’ I said. He glanced at Addison lying in the bed.

  ‘I suppose I should be glad that it was him and not me.’

  ‘What?!!’

  Finn cringed. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to … you know … introduce the … Forget it.’

  ‘That was well out of order.’

  He hung his head even lower.

  ‘I can’t believe I even …’

  ‘I think at least a hundred, possibly two.’

  He glanced up. ‘What?’

  ‘Lines.’

  Finn looked relieved.

  ‘You know, I really really do hope he gets better, and that it works out fine for you.’

  ‘He will,’ I said fiercely, grasping Addison’s hand. ‘He has to. Otherwise … I’m going to set fire to the Houses of Parliament or something.’

  ‘I know,’ said Finn, and smiled his shy scruffy smile at me.

  ‘God! I mean, we would never have got together, would we?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said, crossly.

  ‘Well, we’re just so … chalk and cheese.’

  I shrugged. ‘Why, because you’re such a big swot?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  I smiled at him.

  ‘Are you seeing Madeleine?’

  He shrugged. ‘Now and again. She’s finishing her PhD in cellular mitosis.’

  ‘Wow. I can see how attractive that might be.’

  I held out my clenched fists.

  ‘Pick a prawn.’

  ‘You can’t wear pink! Are you crazy? That’d be like, if it was me going on a first date, wearing stockings and suspenders that you could see and a big T-shirt saying “Take me now”.’

  Kate and Josh both stared at me.

  ‘… And that only happened the once. Josh, put the shirt away and go and put your grey top on.’

  Kate sighed. ‘
Look, do you think you two girlies could get ready next door? Some of us have got work to do.’

  ‘Ooh, bitchy,’ said Josh. Then, to me: ‘Oh my God, it’s started!’

  I smacked Josh on the head and dragged him into the living room to put some eyeliner on him.

  ‘What did you do that for?’

  ‘I don’t know … practice?’

  ‘I mean, why be nasty to Kate?’

  ‘What? She’s been super-nasty to me all week!’

  ‘And it never occurred to you why that might be the case?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, don’t you think she started being particularly nasty to you when a certain someone started going out on dates …?’

  I waited for the penny to drop. One, two, three … ooh, there it was.

  Josh’s face was stricken.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ I said smugly.

  ‘No wonder she’s …’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘But Stephen is never going to want to go out with her.’

  I squeezed his shoulder. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘just go.’

  ‘What? What did I say.’

  ‘Nothing. Now. Off you go. Have a wonderful time. Worry not.’

  He paused.

  ‘I am a bit worried, you know.’

  ‘That’s a healthy response.’

  ‘Tell Skates I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And tell my parents I love them.’

  ‘Josh, you are not going on a date with Dennis Nilsen.’

  ‘I know. But if I come back different then I just wanted to be …’

  ‘You will never be different, J.’

  ‘Fine. Good. Right. OK, bye then.’

  ‘I mean, you walk funny now.’

  ‘Piss off!’

  He wiggled out the door.

  Kate was sitting at the kitchen table, disconsolately pushing her computer mouse around.

  ‘Don’t tell me … you’re playing patience as a displacement activity?’

  She smiled wanly.

  ‘So my therapist tells me.’

  I sat down next to her.

  ‘What else does your therapist tell you?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Go on, tell me. I’ve always been fascinated.’