before i die Jenny Downham

five

Sometimes on a Sunday Dad drives me and Cal to visit Mum. We get the lift up to the eighth floor, and usually theres a moment when she opens the door and says, Hey, you! and includes all three of us in her gaze. Dad usually loiters for a while on the step and they talk.
But today when she opens the door, Dads so desperate to get away from me that hes already moving back across the hallway towards the lift.
Watch her, he says, jabbing a finger in my direction. Shes not to be trusted.
Mum laughs. Why, what did she do?
Cal can hardly contain his excitement. Dad told her not to go clubbing.
Ah, Mum says. That sounds like your father.
But she went anyway. She only got home just now. She was out all night.
Mum smiles at me fondly. Did you meet a boy? No.
I bet you did. Whats his name?
I didnt!
Dad looks furious. Typical, he says. Bloody typical. I mightve known I wouldnt get any support from you.
Oh, shush, Mum says. It hasnt done her any harm, has it? Look at her. Shes completely exhausted.
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All three of them take a moment to look at me. I hate it. I feel dismal and cold and my stomach aches. Its been hurting since having sex with Jake. No one told me that would happen.
ll be back at four, Dad says as he steps into the lift. Shes refused to have her blood count checked for nearly two weeks, so phone me if anything changes. Can you manage that?
Yes, yes, dont worry. She leans over and kisses my forehead. ll look after her.
Cal and me sit at the kitchen table, and Mum puts the kettle on, finds three cups amongst the dirty ones in the sink and swills them under the tap. She reaches into a cupboard for tea bags, gets milk from the fridge and sniffs it, scatters biscuits on a plate.
I put a whole Bourbon in my mouth at once. It tastes delicious. Cheap chocolate and the rush of sugar to my brain.
Did I ever tell you about my first boyfriend? Mum says as she plonks the tea on the table. His name was Kevin and he worked in a clock shop. I used to love the way he concentrated with that little eye-piece nudged into his face.
Cal helps himself to another biscuit. How many boyfriends have you actually had, Mum?
She laughs, pushes her long hair back over one shoulder. Is that an appropriate question?
Was Dad the best?
Ah, your father! she cries, and clutches her heart melodramatically, which makes Cal roar with laughter.
I once asked Mum what was wrong with Dad. She said, Hes the most sensible man Ive ever met.
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I was twelve when she left him. She sent postcards for a while from places Id never heard of – Skegness, Grimsby, Hull. One of them had a picture of a hotel on the front.This is where I work now, she wrote. m learning how to be a pastry chef and Im getting very fat!
Good! Dad said. I hope she bloody bursts!
I put her postcards on my bedroom wall – Carlisle, Melrose, Dornoch.
Were living in a croft like shepherds, she wrote. Did you know that they use the windpipe, lungs, heart and liver of a sheep to make haggis?
I didnt, and I didnt know who she meant by we, but I liked looking at the picture of John oGroats with its vast sky stretching across the Firth.
Then winter came and I got my diagnosis. Im not sure she believed it at first, because it took her a while to turn round and make her way back. I was thirteen when she finally knocked on our door.
You look lovely! she told me when I answered it. Why does your father always make everything sound so much worse than it is?
Are you coming back to live with us? I asked. Not quite.
And thats when she moved into her flat.
Its always the same. Maybe its lack of money, or perhaps she wants to make sure I dont over-exert myself, but we always end up watching videos or playing board games. Today, Cal chooses the Game of Life. Its rubbish, and Im crap at it. I end up with a husband, two children and a job in a travel agents. I forget to buy house insurance, and when a storm comes, I lose all my money. Cal, however, gets to be a pop star with a cottage by the sea, and Mums an artist with a huge income and a stately home to live in. When I retire, which happens early because I keep spinning tens, I dont even bother counting whats left of my cash.
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Cal wants to show Mum his new magic trick next. He goes to get a coin from her purse, and while were waiting, I drag the blanket off the back of the sofa and Mum helps me pull it over my knees.
ve got the hospital next week, I tell her. Will you come? Isnt Dad going?
You could both come.
She looks awkward for a moment. Whats it for?
ve been getting headaches again. They want to do a lumbar puncture.
She leans over and kisses me, her breath warm on my face. Youll be fine, dont worry. I know youll be fine.
Cal comes back in with a pound coin. Watch very carefully, ladies, he says.
But I dont want to. Im bored of watching things disappear.
In Mums bedroom, I hitch my T-shirt up in front of the wardrobe mirror. I used to look like an ugly dwarf. My skin was grey and if I poked my tummy it felt like an over-risen lump of bread dough and my finger disappeared into its softness. Steroids did that. High-dosage prednisolone and dexamethasone. Theyre both poisons and they make you fat, ugly and bad-tempered.
Since I stopped taking them Ive started to shrink. Today, my hips are sharp and my ribs shine through my skin. Im retreating, ghost-like, away from myself.
I sit on Mums bed and phone Zoey. Sex, I ask her. What does it mean?
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Poor you, she says. You really did get a crap shag, didnt you? I just dont understand why I feel so strange.
Strange how?
Lonely, and my stomach hurts.
Oh, yeah! she says. I remember that. Like youve been opened up inside?
A bit.
Thatll go away.
Why do I feel as if Im about to cry all the time?
Youre taking it too seriously, Tess. Sex is a way of being with someone, thats all. Its just a way of keeping warm and feeling attractive.
She sounds odd, as if shes smiling. Are you stoned again, Zoey?
No!
Where are you?
Listen, I have to go in a minute. Tell me whats next on your list and well make a plan.
ve cancelled the list. It was stupid.
It was fun! Dont give up on it. You were doing something with your life at last.
When I hang up, I count to fifty-seven inside my head. Then I dial 999.
A woman says, Emergency services. Which service do you require?
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I dont say anything.
The woman says, Is there an emergency?
I say, No.
She says, Can you confirm that there is no emergency? Can you confirm your address?
I tell her where Mum lives. I confirm theres no emergency. I wonder if Mumll get sent some kind of bill. I hope so.
I dial directory enquiries and get the number for the Samaritans. I dial it very slowly.
A woman says, Hello. She has a soft voice, maybe Irish. Hello, she says again.
Because I feel sorry for wasting her time, I say, Everythings a pile of crap.
And she makes a little Uh-huh sound in the back of her throat, which makes me think of Dad. He made exactly that sound six weeks ago, when the consultant at the hospital asked if we understood the implications of what he was telling us. I remember thinking how Dad couldnt possibly have understood, because he was crying too much to listen.
m still here, the woman says.
I want to tell her. I press the receiver to my ear, because to talk about something as important as this you have to be hunched up close.
But I cant find words that are good enough. Are you still there? she says.
No, I say, and I put the phone down.
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