Didn’t want to call or make it known that I was awake wanted to shelter in the hushed sleeping afternoon as in a nest in the rain. Softly to the kitchen on bare feet there the back door is wide open & smell of wet is so sweet & everywhere it’s dripping with rain. The water on the stove in which we always heat the bottles of milk was still warm I felt & 3 clean bottles were standing upright on the tea cloth A. somewhere feeding him with the fourth one I knew. But then she wasn’t in the sitting room either there on the green sofa & not on the stoep either & not in the spare room either.
So then I saw from the nursery window that the outside room’s door was closed but the outside latch was off & then I knew immediately that’s where they were & then I wasn’t easy the servant’s quarters is not a place for my child but I thought perhaps A. had just gone there to put on a clean apron & had taken him along. Put on slippers & went out into the backyard & A.’s curtains were tightly drawn but I didn’t want to knock & then I was ashamed of myself because Jakkie was nowhere safer than with A. Walk around the back because then I remember there’s a small window at the back & it’s muddy & I clamber onto a paint tin & the window’s open a chink & I cling to the window sill to peer into the room.
There is A. with her back to me on the apple box in front of her bed. Hr one shoulder bare the crooked bones of the deformed side wide open to view & I look & I see & I can’t believe what I see perhaps I dreamed it the apron’s shoulder band is off & the sleeve of the dress hangs empty & her head is bent to the child on her lap. Could just see his little feet sticking out on the one side. Perfectly contented. There I see on her bed on a white towel untouched lies the fourth bottle full of milk. There I stand in the drizzle on the paint tin that’s sinking away in the mud with my forehead pressed against the window sill & I listen to the little sounds it sucks & sighs it’s a whole language out there in the outside room I can almost not bring myself to write it.
Went & put on my raincoat & wellingtons. ‘Have gone for a walk’ I wrote on a piece of paper for A. & the exact time half past three so that she could see I was awake. Walked along next to the drift & stood by the deep places & looked at the drops falling on the water in ringlets & the eels coming to see if it was food dropping. Saw to it that I stayed away for an hour.
A. busy bathing the little one when I returned her strong arm under his little back supporting him hr little hand soaping him as I taught her there he lies gurgling in the water & smiles at me. I stand in the door of the nursery & I just look & I find nothing to say.
Look who’s here Jakkie, your même she’s been for a walk but I wonder where she was she’s got a white spot on her forehead like a blazed mare!
I look in the mirror & there it is, the lime of the little window through which I was peeping.
9
My tongue is being wiped. It’s not Agaat’s hand. Not the little hand that ventures beyond my uvula. The fingers are thicker, more innocent. Something is pressed on my face, over my mouth. A thing is placed in my mouth, a mouthpiece, plates between my teeth that pull my lips apart, flatten them. Cool air is blown into me.
Behind my back there’s a whispering. Two voices. Agaat’s and somebody else’s. I am lying on my side. There are four hands working on me. The starling, the crow and two other, cooler hands. I’m being rubbed with something.
Shadows in the mirror. A glow on my ribs. I eavesdrop. Can one eavesdrop if one is mute?
Everything’s fine, you’re managing pretty well here, there’s nothing that could have been prevented, Agaat. And they say it’s going to get cooler, perhaps a little summer shower, that will also help. Then you can open the doors for a while, it’s stuffy with the room closed up like this.
It’s Leroux. He clears his throat. I smell his aftershave lotion. Cloves.
But why did she. .? She’s never just passed out like that while I was knocking out her phlegm.
I’m sure she has. You just haven’t noticed. It’s a lack of oxygen. That’s what’s lacking here, oxygen. Beyond that we can’t do anything.
She’s been different of late.
How do you mean?
Restless, sort of. To and fro with the eyes, like that, to and fro all the time like a thing looking for escape. I thought I knew what it was.
What?
I thought she felt trapped in here, she wanted out, outside, so I turned the mirror so that she could see the reflection of the garden. It’s better than nothing. But it’s something else. She wants to see something, something that’s outside and inside. Outside and inside at the same time.
You must expect that, the boundaries will start to fade now.
How do you mean, doctor?
Between waking and unconscious. She’ll start going into coma, remain in a state of half-sleep, be unconscious for long periods, be confused when she wakes up, mix things up, like who you are, and where she is. You must try to imagine it. It’s someone who can’t communicate, somebody who perhaps more often than you think is delirious, an endless tunnel you must imagine full of shreds of yesterday and today and earlier times. And then when she comes to, she can’t talk and she can’t move, and then she gets into a panic.
I can imagine Agaat’s face behind me. Set to neutral. She is representing me there behind my back. She knows I can hear everything.
It’s not that, doctor, I know, she was quite lucid, she knows very well who I am, she knows what she wants, she wants something from me, she wants to see something, she asks, with her eyes, continuously, if she gets the opportunity. But I’ve made a plan now. I’ve selected a few things, I’ll hang them here, by her bed, until I see that’s the right one, that’s what she wants to look at.
Agaat, you must do as you must do. You two chose it yourselves and had it set down before the law, it’s in the will, you may decide everything, she gave you the right, so I can’t force you. Don’t over-exert yourself, see to it that you get rest, you can phone me at any time if you want an assistant. I can send you a sleep-in nurse, two even. To relieve you, twice, three times a week.
That’s not necessary, we’re still managing. She won’t tolerate anyone else now.
That’s meant for my ears. Tolerate.
Well, just remember that it’s also a matter of how much you can tolerate. Give the oxygen as I showed you when you think it’s necessary, when you do the auscultation. Beforehand and afterwards as well. It could have been a fright too, shock, remember she feels everything, it’s possible that in her condition she’s more sensitive, registers pain more quickly than is normal. To faint would then be a kind of flight reaction.
Faint, yes doctor, she’s fainted easily, all along, when she was having a hard time, but not. . not flight.
Can tolerate her, only her, with no possibility of flight. Hand over hand Agaat casts her lines in my direction. The doctor has long since become merely an excuse to get it all said. She got a fright, now she’s aggressive. Push and shove at a dead thing to get some life into it.