Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  Marilyn locked her red-webbed eyes on Dr Klimek.

  ‘The other thing is,’ he continued, ‘you won’t be able to take him right this minute. We want him to complete his sleep. After that it may be another couple of hours before he can be discharged.’

  ‘W-why’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘I take it you haven’t read all of the literature? After he wakes up he’ll be virtually paralysed.’

  ‘Say again?’ she barked.

  ‘Temporarily. Temporarily, Mrs Gabino. Once he wakes it’s going to take a bit of time for his mind to map out its new exterior. Think of it in the way a driver gets acquainted with a new car. They first sit inside and look around before feeling around the dashboard and seeing how things work. I guarantee you he will be fine.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want him like this forever!’ she gathered her breath.

  ‘Marilyn, my dear. Don’t.’ said Alberto to her back. ‘Thank you, doctor, carry on.’

  Dr Klimek slid a thumb and forefinger around and down his tie.

  ‘Right, well. That’s all I wanted to say. I want lowered voices when I let you in, please. It’s for his best that he wakes naturally.’

  Dr Klimek led them outside. Marilyn pretended not to notice Estela press hard against her as she passed. Dr Klimek nodded at Marilyn as he produced the key to Tomás’s door. The lock clanked and echoed. Alberto held Estela by the shoulder at the doorway as Marilyn approached the foot of the bed. She studied the steady rise and fall of the new broad chest. The waist covered by a blanket. She didn’t dare look above the neck.

  ‘Maybe you want to have a seat?’ Dr Klimek asked Marilyn.

  Ignoring him, she took a deep breath and walked towards the headboard.

  Extending a hand towards the forehead she stopped millimetres from it. Her fingers curled into a weak fist. Alberto’s footsteps approached her, followed by the feel of his warm hand in the small of her back. She adjusted into his loose hold.

  ‘My dear. Look at him. Look at him properly.’

  Marilyn observed the ears. She covered her mouth.

  Estela thudded forward and parted their connection.

  ‘Ha! Why you fool me, doctor? This rubbish! Say it, this is lie. A big joke!’

  Dr Klimek quietly stepped beside Marilyn.

  ‘Estela!’ whispered Alberto harshly.

  ‘What fun you get telling me this my son, ah? Wake him and say go! This not my Tomás! And you two stupid, believe this.’

  ‘Mrs Gabino, please. We can take this in the corridor.’

  Marilyn covered her ears momentarily.

  ‘Estela, oi, oi! Shut up.’ said Alberto. ‘Come back to reality and calm down! My son is asleep.’

  Estela mouthed a few silent vowel shapes then pressed her lips together tightly.

  Marilyn extended a hand once more to the forehead and managed the extra millimetres to lay a thumb. Her little finger hovered above an eyebrow. A wrinkle on his forehead contracted.

  ‘No one else but Tomás does that. Exactly like that.’ she then quickly retracted her hand as if she burnt herself. The virtual fire drove her outside.

  Standing beside the door she pressed her back against the wall. Dr Klimek walked out in front of her.

  ‘I didn’t say it would be easy.’

  ‘Look at me. I haven’t got a clue!’ she sobbed.

  ‘You should go back inside to be there for when he wakes. All of you together. And then you can decide what to think. I promise you that once you hear him speak your response will be polar to this.’

  Marilyn breathed deeply and brushed stray hairs behind her ear. She straightened herself as they walked back inside. Alberto was reasoning in loud whispers with Estela who then looked at her. She stepped aside, leaving a space for Marilyn beside Alberto.

  ‘I have some paperwork.’ Dr Klimek quietly shut the door behind him.

  Marilyn walked over and looked at the mouth.

  ‘Tomás.’ she patted a pad over an eye.

  ‘How you not know this someone playing game?’

  Marilyn closed her eyes again.

  ‘Estela, what you yapping on about?’ asked Alberto. ‘Who would say okay to the knife? How can this person know about my son? There are many things between him and us no one else can know. Wait until he wakes up, woman!’

  ‘Shsh!’ said Marilyn. ‘Please.’ she pressed her eyelids tighter.

  ‘Alberto. Tomás, he should be in the soil. I not taking this joke home! And you Marilyn, they fool you. This some nonsense!’

  ‘It’s science! He’s in there, I know it.’ she replied, eyes still shut and shaking. ‘I trust them.’

  ‘Rubbish! Why you lie yourself, ah? You just don’t want cry for my son! You want to take this rapist in your bed!’

  A sound like an amplified newspaper ruffle struck. Its decay thickened the air.

  Marilyn opened her eyes.

  She turned and saw Alberto’s eyes bulge and a hand trembling in mid-air. Estela had bent her head down, slightly rubbing her cheek.

  ‘Don’t say anything, Estela! Just stop!’ he barked.

  Estela looked up at him. Her eyes were ready to burst. Turning around she screeched a chair to the back wall and fell to it. Her arms crossed like a vexed schoolgirl’s. Marilyn tried to engage her. Failing, she concentrated back on the new Tomás.

  Alberto shook his head at Estela. He picked up a chair and pulled it beside the bed.

  ‘My dear, you get comfortable too.’

  ‘It’s alright. I’m fine as I am.’

  Marilyn looked back at Estela who moved her head to stare out of a window to her right. A liquid drop sound attracted Marilyn to the drip. She eyed the body up and down and caught a brief flicker of movement from an index finger.

  ‘He did something!’ she said.

  She caught Estela look at her then turn back to the window. Alberto got up and walked to Marilyn’s side.

  ‘His hand!’ she added.

  ‘Least we know he’s moving now, my dear. I thought doctor said he would be paralysed for a little bit?’

  ‘He’s not moving properly. This must be the start of the mind and body connecting, or whatever.’

  ‘There, I see it too!’

  ‘You should’ve seen it before.’

  Marilyn watched Estela walk towards the window and open it. A moderate breeze wafted in.

  ‘Should I wake him?’ asked Alberto.

  ‘You heard the doctor.’ she bit her lip. ‘Or could he be awake now and this is all he can do?’

  ‘I’m going to shake him just a bit. I can’t wait.’

  ‘If only I could see his eyes. I can read those. He better be able to do more than move his finger, I swear...’

  ‘It is okay, my dear, calm yourself.’ he grabbed the back of one of the hands and shook it vigorously. ‘Tomás,’ he whispered, ‘your alarm has gone!’ he shook it again. ‘Boy, if you are there, let me know. Move your finger again at least, please!’

  ‘Don’t be rough on him, he must be sore!’

  ‘He handled more pain than this, you know that.’

  Marilyn stepped back. Alberto shook the hand once more. It stayed still.

  ‘Don’t stress yourself.’ she patted his shoulder. ‘It’s still early.’

  ‘This could be a coma, enough time seems to have gone!’

  He shook harder. Marilyn watched Estela stick her head out of the window.

  ‘Oi, Tomás!’ he said. ‘Listen to your papa. You never disobey your papa! If you are my son you will lift your finger. Not once, but twice!’ he paused. ‘Your new ears must work!’

  ‘Alberto, don’t. Please.’

  Alberto grunted and threw the limp hand.

  The same finger moved up. Then slowly down. It went up again and stayed there until it slowly tired.

  ‘Tomás! He’s my Tomás! He’s here!’ he shouted at Marilyn. ‘Tomás, oi! You are okay. Stay strong my boy, we will talk and eat home food soon! You keep doing your, whatever you are
doing in there!’

  Marilyn caught Estela briefly looking back at them. Alberto grabbed Marilyn and gave her a big squeeze.

  ‘My dear, I would kiss you but this bee here might sting you. Even my mama she would have stung.’

  ‘Go, get excite by criminal hand! I go home once he take your wallet.’

  There was a knock. Prof Barber entered.

  ‘Any issues?’ he walked over to the body.

  ‘Professor, he made some communication.’ replied Alberto.

  Prof Barber placed a palm on the forehead.

  ‘Can you speed this up?’ asked Marilyn.

  ‘Absolutely not! You don’t mess with a body’s cogs and gears for no good reason! And I would refuse to interfere even if I could.’ he calmed his voice. ‘Besides, your anticipation will end in a very short while. He does appear to be waking.’

  Estela shut the window and planted on her chair.

  ‘His drip.’ pointed Estela.

  ‘Never mind that.’ Prof Barber waved a hand.

  ‘I only say from humanity. Which this criminal can no have.’

  Alberto shook his head.

  Prof Barber cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to get his discharge papers and they should be inked before daylight. He must not, repeat, not, do anything really strenuous physically or mentally until I say so. Do you follow?’

  Marilyn nodded slowly. She looked as if she were held at gunpoint.

  ‘I’ll be back in a half hour to see if he’s ready. We have a dark-windowed car just for you. I wouldn’t mind you staying an extra day but it’s safer to discharge you now. Don’t mind my temper, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you.’ replied Alberto.

  ‘I look forward to hearing from him myself. Dr Klimek is a door away.’ he nodded around the room and left.

  Alberto smiled at Estela. She crossed her arms again and looked down.

  Marilyn lifted her sleeve. The silver analogue watch ticked loud enough to mask her racing heartbeat. She focused on the navy dial for a number of slow seconds.

  Suddenly the body moaned. Then again.

  Marilyn looked up.

  ‘Boy, that is you, right? It is me, your dad!’

  It stayed quiet.

  Estela got up then sat back on the edge of her seat.

  Marilyn placed an index finger under the chin.

  It moaned again.

  ‘Keep it there!’ said Alberto. ‘Tomás, you are with us! Say something funny, son! You remember what you wanted to do?’

  The Adam’s apple rippled. The nostrils flared.

  ‘Please, Tomás!’ shrieked Marilyn. ‘I can’t take this any longer!’

  The chest rose and relaxed.

  ‘His lips are still quite purple.’ she added.

  ‘Mar-a...’ it whispered.

  ‘Go on, go on!’ yelled Alberto. He shook a hooligan’s fist.

  The tongue peeped through the lips.

  ‘Mm... Ma. Ma.’

  Estela’s eyes moistened.

  ‘Oi, Estela!’ shouted Alberto. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the bed. ‘Touch him. Touch him!’

  She looked at Alberto’s bulging eyes then turned towards the body to touch a shoulder.

  The body’s spasm reverberated in her. She moved back and touched her chest.

  The body’s knees bent, mimicking a rising spider. Toes wiggled. The head shook as it lifted invisible kilos.

  Alberto rushed forward to lay his hands behind the head and back. He guided the body into a sitting position.

  Fingers crab-claw flexed. Brows curved into caterpillars. Arms and legs moved slightly.

  ‘Wor... I wan’ wort-huh.’

  ‘Quick! Fill that cup!’ shouted Marilyn. She poured the few millilitres from a warm jug on his cabinet into a small limescale-laden glass. Alberto tipped the body’s head back as she carefully emptied the glass into the slightly pursed mouth. The lips accepted a few drops then sealed up. The rest dripped on the cover.

  The head drooped and took a deep breath. Its lips strained to part; the effort comparable to a shoe stepping off stubborn chewing gum.

  ‘You think you my son?’ whispered Estela.

  The body stayed still.

  Estela huffed. She sat back heavily in her seat.

  ‘Wass g-gong on?’ he gulped. ‘Em I dea’? I fil weir. My voyss?’

  ‘Say your name.’ said Marilyn.

  ‘Mawilin?’

  Alberto muttered something unintelligible with wet eyes. The striking of his palms made the body flinch.

  ‘Tomás. My boy. You are still with us! This is your new skin!’

  ‘Wha? Done. Hao? I’m scareth. I caan see, I fil weir!’ he rocked from side to side.

  ‘Shsh, shsh.’ said Marilyn. ‘You’ll feel better very quickly. You won’t be in here much longer.’

  He felt heat approaching a cheek. The sensation stopped midway. Then a peck of wetness hit him.

  Marilyn recoiled from her impulse action.

  The body faced the direction of fingernails being dug into leather.

  Realising the sound resembled flatulence Estela stopped.

  ‘Free from that nasty head monster?’ his lips were a torn seal.

  ‘No more nasty head monster.’ replied Marilyn.

  His voice lowered two octaves and turned gritty. ‘The voice in my head isn’t this strange thing I’m now hearing. Are you sure I am me? I’m not sure I am me. It feels like a costume or remote controlling something.’

  ‘Give it... Time.’ sighed Marilyn.

  ‘Mum.’

  Estela stayed silent.

  ‘Tell her, my son. Tell her something only you and her could know. Remove her doubt.’ his voice rose in pitch. ‘Please, prove her wrong.’

  The body stayed still for a few seconds.

  ‘Mum. I was thirteen when I got my first Silver Monochrome disc, right?... It was a custom compilation I later gave to Haroon after I got the full albums. I went with you. My old body that is.

  ‘I know this is a small thing, but I never told Dad, Marilyn or anyone else because it’s just trivial. We burnt select tracks to disc at a kiosk in Buy & Burn in Kilburn. Silver Monochrome stuff. Who else would know we went to that store? Dad didn’t ask. That was ages ago when I was well and in school. Please don’t say I’m not me. I’m very scared.’

  Leather padding creaked.

  ‘Is all you can think of? Many boys buy music that band there.’

  ‘Yeah, but how many of them then vomited after buying a dodgy pizza slice from a stall outside? How many of them, after they recovered, sat in a cab home with his mother and thanked her to the point of being annoying?’

  ‘So that’s why you looked grey that evening.’ Alberto smiled. ‘I remember that.’

  ‘Yeah, but it didn’t stop me grinning. Sitting right in front of the speakers as soon as I got in and you telling me to turn it up, not down.’

  Alberto laughed.

  Estela looked at her husband. A tear sat on the side of his nostril.

  ‘Somehow you find out this.’ she pointed waveringly at Tomás.

  ‘Ma. You pick something then and I’ll fill it in. This is all I can think of off the top of my,’ he touched his scalp, ‘well, this head. You know I talked to death about that band... Yeah, to death.’

  ‘How did you and me happen?’ asked Marilyn.

  ‘Please, don’t waste my energy. We told that story to Monifa recently.’

  ‘Wow.’ she laughed.

  ‘Who put ice cubes on my face?’ asked Tomás.

  ‘They said they put some kind of fast-healing thing on you.’ she replied. ‘Shouldn’t be long ‘til we can see it. I’m shocked by your lips, they’re half the size already.’

  ‘Oh. No dinner first, then?’

  The room fell silent.

  ‘I want answer something.’

  ‘Fire away, Ma.’

  ‘What you say your aunt, my sister, first time she come stay with us, what she do?’


  ‘You prepared for the language I’ll have to use?’

  ‘I remember all word.’

  ‘Okay. I was five and I said “fuck off you old bitch. I don’t take shitting orders from an old hag.” I told you this and you said “where you learn such language?” and I said Dad. Sorry, Dad.

  ‘We met one of his friends when we were at a burger place a few months before, and after they talked a while some rank woman tramp came in and made nasty looks and comments from a table opposite. So they said sentences with fuck, bitch and hag until she went away. Auntie didn’t respond to that, though.’

  Alberto snorted. He clapped his hands as if a dictionary closing abruptly from the centre, and laughed. Loudly.

  It infected Marilyn.

  Tomás heard another creak of leather then felt his mother’s thin arms envelope his back. They suddenly let go.

  ‘Yeah, easy Mum.’

  ‘Okay. I can see you not wrong. I keep your naughty day with me only. My face go red.’ she laughed.

  ‘Only I have doubts left, then.’ replied Tomás.

  ‘The doctors always leave before you move!’ said Alberto. ‘One moment.’ he walked out.

  ‘Tomás, I not lie to you now. It take time for me to get used to... This, you. In my head my boy is still like in photo album.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I shouldn’t be here anyway. I was convinced the doctors played a joke as some weird kind of end days mental therapy. When I move parts of my body, like I’m moving my eyes right now, it feels like nothing’s changed. I feel the same height but my hands are thinner, my calves are meatier. My...’ he felt the contours of his face. ‘And this face on me is just sandpaper. I know what I look like, but I haven’t seen this thing run or do handstands. Marilyn, any opinion now?’

  ‘Don’t ask me anything right now. I just can’t believe I’m not looking at a memorial stone!’ she cried.

  ‘So,’ he coughed, ‘how did I, what do they call it – circle down the drain? Shakespeare drama or like a dull pensioner?’

  ‘Don’t ask me that! Besides, you didn’t die. Who do you think I’m talking to?’

  The door opened. Tomás listened attentively to another pair of feet that pinged something against the door.

  ‘How do you feel, Tomás?’ asked Dr Klimek, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Tomás? Who’s this Tomás?’ he replied. ‘Where’s my pistol?’

  Dr Klimek froze.