Being Kalli(59)

The paramedics arrive and pull out their gear, working on her, and through all the medical bustle and Nate shaking and holding me, and my tears, and my body which feels of lead, I can’t help but notice Mum looks truly peaceful for the first time in her life.





23




Twenty-four.

It can be a symbol. Two is a pair, a duo, balance. Four is the number of chambers in our hearts. It’s the year some of our first memories start to stick.

In hours, twenty-four can be short or long. Twenty-four hours on a holiday passes before you realise a day’s gone by. But twenty-four hours between life and death is an insufferable amount of time to watch my mum lay on this hospital bed.

Nate stayed with me all night. He left at noon to give me time to sleep, to grieve, to wonder. How screwed up and calculated last night was. So far I don’t know the inner thoughts Mum went through before she tried to end her life but I know she planned to leave the boys with the sitter. The sitter was then instructed to drop them off at Aunty Nicole’s house. Just like that. Nate told me he was taking them back to my place where Scout is, and she’ll look after them. She came and stayed for hours, too, but in the end I needed them to leave.

I’m a downright bitch sometimes. No matter that I’ll never be able to repay Nate and Scout for being ready to do anything I needed at my beck and call, I ignored them.

I can’t explain it. Nate put his hand on my forearm, in what I guess he thought was reassurance. I had my arms crossed in front of me and my chin propped on top on the guards around Mum’s bed. I ignored him for as long as I could.

Nothing. I felt nothing.

Last night must have drained me of my human qualities because I have suddenly forgotten why people like dark, looming shadows and pressure holding you down on your shoulder or against your chest, or circles rubbing on your back. I have forgotten why people have the need to cry when all I’ve done for twenty-four hours is stare.

Stare, stare, stare. Still, twenty-four hours of staring has done nothing to answer my questions.

Why live life by the motto “Life needs to be fun” when you’re anything but?

How could my mother’s life end as if she were capable of leaving this world?

When was the moment she started killing herself? Why couldn’t I sense it?

Doctors tell me to leave and I respond with “Cool. I’ll leave her alone when you can also decide to stop breathing. That’s what we’re both doing, if that’s cool with you?” I don’t even know why. They’re helping. I can’t do what they’re doing, yet I refuse to move until a kind nurse drags my shoulders back, clutching my upper arms to her chest, and my legs start in motion to stop me from falling, yet I can’t ever remember doing that ‘til afterward.

I’ve been told she’ll wake up soon. Without sleep for a day and a half now, I am sane enough to realise I’m delirious. Finally, the adrenaline, the panic and the shock simmer from my system enough to draw me into a sleep.

It’s a sleep so desperate to take me I don’t dream. I wake twelve hours later in a lone room, sleeping on a hard, thin mattress on a rectangular block structure. The room is a small, horrible thing. Cupboards are stuck high on the wall and against the floor. The smell is distinctly antiseptic hospital, and I note this as I walk the room.

When I step outside a lady at a reception counter raises her eyebrows at me and shuffles over, fixing her T-shirt uniform.

“Kallisto Perkins?”

I nod.

“We checked to make sure you were okay, but you sure seemed in need of a sleep.”

I try out a comforting smile.

“You must be worried about your mother. I’ll get her doctor to come see you.”

“Um, later?”

She gives me a knowing sad smile and walks off, leaving me be to clear my head.

I know I cannot be told anything less than Mum will come out perfect, and finding a meal seems like my only option at the moment in case that can’t be promised. Plus, the doctor will always be here, but I won’t be if I faint.

I take the lift downstairs and bypass the cafeteria area. There is a gift shop, Maccas, a deluxe ice cream shop, and every other fast food store with varieties of high-sugar, high-fat types of delicious food, but they’re all too close to this hospital and my scattered memory of Mum and last night. I walk out, and keep walking until I get to a train station where noisy trains and fumes are ever too strong.

The ambulance took me in the back so I have no car, and Nate left with his when he followed us. Plus, I’ve had persistent trembles for twenty-four hours and I don’t trust myself to drive if I did go home.

I am one of the strange people who enjoy train rides. I can space out and not worry about traffic or an accident or where to go. I pick my line and take it to the destination. I know I can close my eyes, listen to music or read. Or do nothing and appreciate the time to relax.