There is a worm in my head that whispers that it isn’t only Paul who doesn’t think other people feel and think and care. And maybe the worm is right.
When Davey comes out of the bathroom and we’ve got you back into bed, I hug him. I hug him tight and I hope he knows what I mean by it.
*
Penny comes back with the baby monitor. When she proudly pulls the large box out of the Argos bag, I stare at it. Davey does too. She looks at both of us.
‘I was thinking about it in the car after I dropped Simon off. About the way he keeps getting out of bed. And so,
voilà’
We still don’t get it and she sighs. ‘It’s a video monitor for babies. You set the camera up in the bedroom and then plug the receiver into a TV somewhere else. I thought we could bring the portable down from your bedroom into the lounge. That way we can see when he’s trying to get up.’
I look at the machine and then at Penny. She shrugs. ‘I was just thinking how awful it would be if he fell out of bed and we didn’t know for a while. I couldn’t bear it.’
I look at her plump lips and perfect face and wonder how I ended up with the empty thinking space. It isn’t fair. I should have thought of the baby monitor. I should have. But then, unlike Penny, I guess I never got to actually have any babies.
‘It’s a good idea, Pen,’ I say, and I’m glad my envy of her can’t be heard. ‘Good thinking.’
She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles a little and I know she’s pleased. I look at Davey making more tea, and Penny unwrapping the box and I think that sometimes I don’t know them at all.
It takes us about half an hour to get it set up and we put the monitor in the kitchen. I turn the grill on to make more bacon sandwiches. We are pleased with ourselves, as if the monitor will actually solve the problem. It doesn’t though. Of course not – it’s designed to display the problem, not solve it. Our self-satisfaction doesn’t last.
One side of the bacon has barely started sizzling when Penny scrapes her stool back. ‘Oh, he’s moving!’
The three of us gather round the screen. The image is projected in a strange green colour, which makes it even more surreal. I feel as if we’re spying on you. Your legs slip over the side of the bed.
‘I’ll go.’
*
And that becomes the pattern of the day. You barely settle at all, and I find that I am transfixed by the portable TV. In the afternoon we take it into the lounge so that we can watch a movie, but my eyes keep drifting away from the big screen to watch you on the small one. The pale green light makes me feel queasy, but I can’t help but stare as your toes twitch and I know that anymoment now you are going to start those strange jerky movements. I wonder where the energy comes from. Your organs must be eating themselves to stay alive by now. That’s if the cancer hasn’t got there first.
The three of us don’t speak much. Penny tries, but gives up after a while. Even she can’t make this easy. My thighs hurt from running up and down the stairs and my neck throbs with the start of a headache. The tension is unbearable.
We have take-away Chinese for dinner, which we eat silently. We get up twice during the short meal to get you back into bed. As I bite into a spring roll I wish with a breaking heart that you’d just hurry up and die. I don’t feel any guilt. I know wishes don’t come true.
Night falls, another circle of the clock done. I like to see the empty blackness outside. It lets me believe for a while that the whole world is within these walls. That nothing else exists. I don’t want you and us diminished by the million others looking out into the blackness, listening to the clock tick away the life of someone they love. Penny goes to bed at ten. She’s been asleep on the sofa for an hour and Davey gently wakes her. I can see he’s tired too, whereas I am wide awake in my exhaustion.
‘You take my bed, Davey. I’ll stay down here.’
‘No,’ he
When Davey comes out of the bathroom and we’ve got you back into bed, I hug him. I hug him tight and I hope he knows what I mean by it.
*
Penny comes back with the baby monitor. When she proudly pulls the large box out of the Argos bag, I stare at it. Davey does too. She looks at both of us.
‘I was thinking about it in the car after I dropped Simon off. About the way he keeps getting out of bed. And so,
voilà’
We still don’t get it and she sighs. ‘It’s a video monitor for babies. You set the camera up in the bedroom and then plug the receiver into a TV somewhere else. I thought we could bring the portable down from your bedroom into the lounge. That way we can see when he’s trying to get up.’
I look at the machine and then at Penny. She shrugs. ‘I was just thinking how awful it would be if he fell out of bed and we didn’t know for a while. I couldn’t bear it.’
I look at her plump lips and perfect face and wonder how I ended up with the empty thinking space. It isn’t fair. I should have thought of the baby monitor. I should have. But then, unlike Penny, I guess I never got to actually have any babies.
‘It’s a good idea, Pen,’ I say, and I’m glad my envy of her can’t be heard. ‘Good thinking.’
She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles a little and I know she’s pleased. I look at Davey making more tea, and Penny unwrapping the box and I think that sometimes I don’t know them at all.
It takes us about half an hour to get it set up and we put the monitor in the kitchen. I turn the grill on to make more bacon sandwiches. We are pleased with ourselves, as if the monitor will actually solve the problem. It doesn’t though. Of course not – it’s designed to display the problem, not solve it. Our self-satisfaction doesn’t last.
One side of the bacon has barely started sizzling when Penny scrapes her stool back. ‘Oh, he’s moving!’
The three of us gather round the screen. The image is projected in a strange green colour, which makes it even more surreal. I feel as if we’re spying on you. Your legs slip over the side of the bed.
‘I’ll go.’
*
And that becomes the pattern of the day. You barely settle at all, and I find that I am transfixed by the portable TV. In the afternoon we take it into the lounge so that we can watch a movie, but my eyes keep drifting away from the big screen to watch you on the small one. The pale green light makes me feel queasy, but I can’t help but stare as your toes twitch and I know that anymoment now you are going to start those strange jerky movements. I wonder where the energy comes from. Your organs must be eating themselves to stay alive by now. That’s if the cancer hasn’t got there first.
The three of us don’t speak much. Penny tries, but gives up after a while. Even she can’t make this easy. My thighs hurt from running up and down the stairs and my neck throbs with the start of a headache. The tension is unbearable.
We have take-away Chinese for dinner, which we eat silently. We get up twice during the short meal to get you back into bed. As I bite into a spring roll I wish with a breaking heart that you’d just hurry up and die. I don’t feel any guilt. I know wishes don’t come true.
Night falls, another circle of the clock done. I like to see the empty blackness outside. It lets me believe for a while that the whole world is within these walls. That nothing else exists. I don’t want you and us diminished by the million others looking out into the blackness, listening to the clock tick away the life of someone they love. Penny goes to bed at ten. She’s been asleep on the sofa for an hour and Davey gently wakes her. I can see he’s tired too, whereas I am wide awake in my exhaustion.
‘You take my bed, Davey. I’ll stay down here.’
‘No,’ he
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