The Girl Who Cried Wolf(14)
‘That’s my T-shirt. It’s far too small for you.’
Izzy was having none of it. She ignored me and held her hand out to Michael.
‘So you’re the reason she’s cheered up.’
He started to laugh as he shook her hand but stopped abruptly when he saw my fuming face.
‘Well, you do have a reputation on the ward as a bit of a grump, darling.’
Darling. He called me darling like we had been married for twenty-five years. The sky was blue again and for all I cared, Izzy could have walked through the ward wearing nothing but nipple tassels.
‘This is Michael,’ I say ever so sweetly, ‘and this is Isabel, my sister, and Lilly, my mother.’
‘Lillian,’ she corrected, looking horrified, to my greatest satisfaction. My grandparents had been nineteen when they found out they were expecting. At that time they lived in a caravan as part of a travelling community. Lillian was born a blonde-haired little angel and they doted on her. For years, they told us the story of how they found her under a lily pad when she was a tiny baby and decided to bring her home. My mother cringes whenever she hears it. I suppose it suited her when she was little, wearing only a smile and daisy chain. Now she dresses in Jaeger and Donna Karan, and the smile has been replaced with a dissatisfied frown.
‘Nice to meet you both.’ Michael was oblivious to the chip on her shoulder pad.
‘How are you? They say you can come home soon.’ Izzy looked at me warily, prepared for another attack. My mood swings have become so erratic and she looked quite scared.
‘I feel OK, apart from the headaches and knocking over or dropping everything I touch.’
There was an awkward silence which Michael took as his cue to leave.
‘I’ll come see you after visiting hours; I’ll get some chocolate from the canteen.’
He kissed my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and I couldn’t help smiling as he left the three of us alone.
‘God, he’s gorgeous, Anna!’
My smile disappeared and I glared daggers at Izzy.
‘Oh, great sis, fancy him, do you? I’m sure you’ll get your claws into him when I’m dead.’
I spat out the last word and she looked close to crying, but straightened her shoulders and said with perhaps more conviction than she felt, ‘Stop. Stop pushing everyone away. This is hard for us too, you know.’
I snorted derisively, doubting she would want to swap places. My sister and silent mother seemed to have sucked what little life was left out of the room. Or maybe it had just left with Michael.
‘Do you think I want the two of you staring at me with cow eyes? Full of pity! I can’t stand it any more. Please, just leave me alone.’ I looked up at my sister through streaming tears and saw the flush of colour in her cheeks where mine were now gaunt and sallow. Her hair is thick and shiny, full of the life I am losing. Looking at her just reminded me that the harder I tried to hold on, the faster I seemed to be falling.
Mum reached towards me with such utter uncertainty that I lost control once again. Why did she find it so hard to comfort me? What had I ever done to feel this alone?
‘Get away from me!’ I yelled. My face and neck were wet with tears. I tried to throw Isabel off but she was too strong now and wrapped her arms around me so I couldn’t move. As we sat in the same chair rocking and crying together, I glanced up for a second to see my mother’s back as she left the room, and I grabbed on to Izzy as though my life depended on it.
***
About an hour later we are still squashed in the same recliner, but now we have acquired a blanket and a cup of sweet tea each from a concerned auxiliary nurse. I even manage to share a KitKat with Iz for the pleasure and normality of dunking it into our tea like we used to.
‘Do you remember that time you fell off Starlight?’ she asks.
I nod against her shoulder.
We had been riding in the meadow and I was showing off as usual, trying to get Star to jump a fallen log. I cantered her determinedly up to it but instead of jumping, she stuck her hooves in the ground suddenly and I flew over her head. When you fall from a height like that, you don’t feel yourself going down; it is more like the ground is coming up – and at an alarmingly fast rate. Recently, I have found the simplest of things difficult to recall, but I can see that bumpy ground coming towards me like it was yesterday. Afterwards there was nothing until I opened my eyes to see my mother beside me in the meadow as Izzy had run to get her. She was crying. Why was she the one crying when I had been the human catapult? Mother kept asking over and over was I all right and what on earth had I been thinking, and I recall closing my eyes to try and shut her out.
A doctor visited a little while later and said I would be fine, that I just had a very mild concussion and that Lillian should keep an eye on me for the next few hours.
Izzy had tried to cheer me up by doing impressions of what I had looked like flying through the air, and while I laughed uproariously as she flung herself off the settee, she proceeded to bang her head on the coffee table, which of course ended up being my fault as well.
When Father walked in we were watching cartoons with matching egg-shaped bumps on our foreheads. He gave us a little iced bun each he’d brought back from the deli and planted a kiss on our noses, making us laugh again – he always would kiss our forehead, but wanted to avoid the two bruised bumps.