before i die Jenny Downham

twenty-nine

Blood spills from my nose. I stand in front of the hall mirror and watch it pour down my chin and through my fingers until my hands are slippery with it. It drips onto the floor and spreads into the weave of the carpet.
Please, I whisper. Not now. Not tonight.
But it doesnt stop.
Upstairs, I hear Mum say goodnight to Cal. She closes his bedroom door and goes into the bathroom. I wait, listening to her pee, then the flush of the toilet. I imagine her washing her hands at the sink, drying them on the towel. Perhaps she looks at herself in the mirror, just as Im doing down here. I wonder if she feels as far away as I do, as dazed by her own reflection.
She closes the bathroom door and comes down the stairs. I step into her path as she appears on the bottom step.
Oh my God!
ve got a nosebleed.
Its pumping out of you! She flaps her arms at me. In here, quick! She pushes me into the lounge. Heavy, dull drops splash the carpet as I walk. Poppies blooming at my feet.
Sit down, she commands. Lean back and pinch your nose.
This is the opposite of what youre supposed to do, so I ignore her. Adamll be here in ten minutes and were going dancing. Mum stands watching me for a moment, then rushes out of the room. I think maybe shes gone to throw up, but she comes back with a tea towel and thrusts it at me.
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Lean back. Press this against your nose.
Since my ways not working, I do as she says. Blood leaks down my throat. I swallow as much as I can, but loads of it goes in my mouth and I cant really breathe. I sit forward and spit onto the tea towel. A big clot glistens back at me, alien dark. Its definitely not something thats supposed to be outside my body.
Give that to me, Mum says.
I hand it over and she looks at it closely before wrapping it up. Her hands, like mine, are smeared with blood now.
What am I going to do, Mum? Hell be here soon.
Itll stop in a minute.
Look at my clothes!
She shakes her head at me in despair. You better lie down.
This is also the wrong thing to do, but its not stopping, so everythings ruined anyway. Mum sits on the edge of the sofa. I lie back and watch shapes brighten and dissolve. I imagine Im on a sinking ship. A shadow flaps its wings at me.
Mum says, Does that feel any better?
Much.
I dont think she believes me, because she goes out to the kitchen and comes back with the ice-cube tray. She squats next to the sofa and empties it onto her lap. Ice cubes skate off her jeans and onto the carpet. She picks one up, wipes the fluff off and hands it to me.
Hold this on your nose.
Frozen peas would be better, Mum.
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She thinks about this for a second, then rushes off again, returning with a packet of sweetcorn.
Will this do? There werent any peas.
It makes me laugh, which I guess is something. What? she says. Whats so funny?
Her mascara is smeared, her hair flyaway. I reach for her arm and she helps me sit up. I feel ancient. I swing my legs onto the floor and pinch the top of my nose between two fingers like they showed me at the hospital. My pulse is pounding against my head.
Its not stopping, is it? Im going to call Dad.
Hell think you cant cope.
Let him.
She dials his number quickly. She gets it wrong, re-dials. Come on, come on, she says under her breath.
The room is very pale. All the ornaments on the mantelpiece bleached as bones.
Hes not answering. Why isnt he answering? How noisy can it be at a bowling alley?
Its his first night out for weeks, Mum. Leave him. Well manage.
Her face crashes. She hasnt dealt with a single transfusion or lumbar puncture. She wasnt allowed near me for the bone-marrow transplant, but she could have been there for any number of diagnoses, and wasnt. Even her promises to visit more often have faded away with Christmas. Its her turn to taste some reality.
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You have to take me to hospital, Mum. She looks horrified. Dads got the car. Call a cab.
What about Cal?
Hes asleep, isnt he?
She nods forlornly, the logistics beyond her. Write him a note.
We cant leave him on his own!
Hes eleven, Mum, practically a grown-up.
She hesitates only briefly, then scrolls through her address book to dial a cab. I watch her face, but my focus wont really hold. All I get is an impression of fear and bewilderment. I close my eyes and think of a mother I saw in a film once. She lived on a mountain with a gun and lots of children. She was sure and certain. I stick this mother on top of mine, like plaster on a wound.
When I open my eyes again, shes clutching armfuls of towels and tugging at my coat. You probably shouldnt go to sleep, she says. Come on, lets get you up. That was the door.
I feel dazed and hot, as if everything might be a dream. She hauls me up and we shuffle out to the hallway together. I can hear whispering coming from the wall.
But its not the cab, its Adam, all dressed up for our date. I try and hide, try and stumble back into the lounge, but he sees me.
Tess, he says. Oh my God! Whats happened?
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