by Paris Lees
Well, this Louis were fresh off the boat, so he’d never done drugs or owt like that. He sez they don’t even have gay people in Saudi Arabia, an’ it’s illegal to drink. ’Is mam weren’t allowed to drive out there an’ she lived there for twenty years. She’s English, but she married an Arab an’ moved there in the eighties, but they’ve fallen out now, so she’s come back. I sez, “How could she leave Britain in the eighties? There was Boy George an’ everythin’. But she sez there were Thatcher too.” He’s gorra younger brother here, but the youngest two are still with ’is dad. I feel a bit bad really coz ya know how they say someone’s “got in with a bad crowd”? Well, this Louis’s dead nice, an’ we’re just about the worst crowd in Notts.
Oops (Oh My)
I’ve bin burgled. They broke in through the sash window while I were out. It’s ma own fault. The police come round an’ said I should tell ma landlord I need proper locks coz I’d bin securin’ the window with a nail – which I’d quite liked, coz it were like bein’ in Olden Times – but it’s a bit late now, innit? I feel violated. It’s dead weird knowin’ people have bin through all yer stuff. It just don’t feel like ma home any more. An’ I dunno why, but I can’t help thinkin’ that Asha’s got summat to do with it. I try not to be paranoid these days, but she knew I had ma computer an’ stereo in there. It’s got all ma pictures on it, an’ ma personal details. Ma CV. Mammar Joe sez it’s a shame no one ever comes to burgle ’er, “Coz they might take pity on me an’ leave summat.” She was tryna cheer me up, but I know she’s dead worried about me really. She keeps beggin’ me to move back in with ’er.
I’m not goin back to ’ucknall though, so I phoned Louis. He turned up five minutes later, bless ’im. I told ’im I din’t feel safe so he sez, “You can stay at ours if you like. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.” ’Is mam’s a bit older than mine, say mid forties, but she looks dead good. She’s quite middle class an’ has loadsa books. She’s an English teacher, so I tell ’er I’m studyin’ English literature at college. She sez, “Oh yes, stay with us. I wouldn’t feel safe sleeping somewhere by myself if I’d been burgled!” an’ made me up a spare bed in the attic room.
She’s got piles an’ piles o’ books in the back room an’ took me to rummage round for Christopher Marlowe with ’er. She’s dead passionate about books, ya know how English teachers are. She sez, “Would you like a glass of wine?” Well, I’ve never drunk red, but ma nerves were bad after bein’ burgled so I sez, “Oh, thank you very much.” She sez, “What do you like to read?” so I tell ’er I like Great Expectations, an’ Macbeth. She asked me worra liked about Great Expectations, an’ I sez, “Miss Havisham.” So then she’s like, “What about Macbeth?” So I guz, “I like Lady Macbeth, coz when Macbeth breaks ’is promise she said she’d dash a baby’s brains out if she’d promised to. Coz a lotta men lie an’ I think people should keep their promises.” She sez I could stay as long as I like.
I might just do that. After she’d gone to bed, Louis asked me if I wanted to watch a film. Sez he’d got some chocolate, did I want some? But he din’t wanna watch an action film or owt like that. He guz, “Have ya heard of Almodóvar? He’s a Spanish director.” Sez he got into ’im when he were doin’ ’is gap year in Spain. I thought, Ooh, a gap year sounds posh. So we watched it in Spanish, an’ we weren’t tired after it finished so we watched V for Vendetta straight after. ’Is house is dead cosy. We sat on the sofa an’ when ’is foot touched ma leg he din’t pull away. There were nowt sexual about it. I know when guys are bein’ like that. He’s just comfortable round me. It were like sittin’ wi’ Mammar Joe.
I cun’ believe it. I just sat there thinkin’, ’Is foot’s touchin’ me an’ he’s not even bothered! He’s not treatin’ me like I’m a leper. No one would even sit next to me at school, let alone touch me. The only time lads ever touched me at school was to hit me. Same wi’ Gaz, come to think of it. Even Stephen Gatten – ma only boy mate – wun’t walk home wi’ me coz he din’t wanna be seen wi’ me. An’ he turned out to be gay ’issen! But this Louis treats me like I’m a normal person. I spoke to ’is lil’ brother before he went to bed, an’ he was fine wi’ me too. I’ve never known owt like it.
I sez, “Aren’t ya bothered about the way I am? Coz they murder people for bein’ gay in Saudi Arabia, don’t they?” But he sez that, coz officially there’s no gay people in Saudi, in some ways people aren’t as paranoid about bein’ seen as gay. Men can walk around holdin’ hands an’ no one bats an eyelid. Like how girls can link arms over here. I sez, “Well, why don’t you have a problem with it?” But he sez ’is mam’s Western so he’s a bit more open-minded. Sez there are gay people in Saudi, but they just have to keep quiet about it. Like they did here not that long ago. But I start wonderin’ what people like me do out there? Coz it’s one thing hidin’ the fact yer gay, but what about transsexuals? Louis sez he’s never met any, but they must be out there, an it must be awful for ’em. So that’s how I’ve ended up livin’ in a house of Muslims, who’ve made me feel more welcome than ma own family.
I went back to ’ucknall the other day to see Mammar Joe an’ bumped into Mam outside the Co-op. I sez, “Shall I come back wi’ ya for a cup of tea?” But she sez, “I don’t think now’s the best time, really.” I were wearin’ mascara an’ she said Bobby’s daughter was home an’ she din’t want me confusin’ ’er. I sez, “What ya worried about, that she might grow up an’ wear mascara?” Well, fuck ’er. What sorta mam makes ya feel unwelcome? Mammar Joe would never treat me like that.
She sez how I live ma life’s up to me now, but that don’t mean she has to have me rubbin’ it in ’er face. “How can ya turn around an’ say ya wanna be a woman? Ya said ya were gay.” But I only said that coz everyone told me it wasn’t possible to become a woman. An’ I believed ’em, till I saw Nadia on Big Brother. I were in prison an’ they were takin’ the piss out of ’er on Bo’ Selecta! He dressed up as ’er. He had a short skirt on an’ a pair of rubber bollocks that kept fallin’ down every time he crossed ’is legs. But inside the house, everyone was alright wi’ ’er. An’ it blew ma mind, coz you’d have bin more likely to see an alien walkin’ down ’ucknall High Street than meet a transsexual. But she showed me it’s possible. That I could still have mates, an’ go to college. Walk into shops. Talk to people. Be a normal person. That there were at least some people who’d treat me wi’ respect.
Mam sez it’s a phase. Yeah, an eighteen-year phase, Lisa. I’ll show ya worra phase is. I’ll show everyone. They might not know who I am, but I do.
Ready or Not
I took the biggest breath I could manage, ma thoracic cavity expandin’ as air rushed down ma trachea an’ into ma lungs. Or, to be more precise, the primary bronchi, which branch out to yer secondary an’ tertiary bronchi, an’, eventually, the lobules. Makes me laugh, that word. Well, each o’ these lobules consists of a bronchiole, which branches out into alveolar ducts. Ducts lead to a group of alveolar sacs – little round pockets of tissue – an’ that, ladies an’ gentlemen, is where yer gas exchange occurs. Yer body’s amazin’ inside. All o’ the lower respiratory tract is lined wi’ respiratory epithelium, which is carpeted wi’ cilia, tiny hair-like structures that help waft dirt away wi’ the mucus produced by goblet cells. Alveoli are made up of squamous epithelial cells. They have extremely thin walls that enable easy gas exchange.
I know all this coz I’m doin’ human biology at college. They had a spirometer today an’ it turns out I’ve got the largest vital lung capacity in the class. I know it’s a ridiculous thing to gerra big ’ead about, but for someone who hates sport an’ has smoked Superking Blacks for five years, I’m not gonna lie, I’m chuffed. Imagine how healthy I’d be if I looked after mysen.
I love bein’ at college. I’m so grateful that I’ve gorra second chance. I copy ma notes up dead neat when I get home. I’m doin’ English an’ psychology, coz I wanna understand people. But the notes from biology look dead cool coz I do little drawin’s of mi
tochondria an’ stuff, an’ colour ’em in an’ that. It makes me proud lookin’ at worrav done. We got some sheep’s lungs once an’ inflated ’em. It were dead weird. There’s this big muscle at the bottom of yer thoracic cavity an’ when it contracts it drags the lungs down, so air gets sucked in to fill in the vacuum. It’s dead interestin’.
But I really, really, really wish I din’t know so much about lungs right now. Coz I’m sittin’ by a hospital bed wi’ Mammar Joe in it, listenin’ to ’er strugglin’ to breathe. An’ all I can think about is those sheep’s lungs, an’ what Mammar Joe’s must look like.
Aunty Ray called me on Friday night. I were at home watchin’ TV an’ she guz, “Can ya get to the hospital as quick as ya can?” So I ordered a taxi. She was stood waitin’ for me outside A&E. Mammar Joe had asked ’er to come round coz she were feelin’ really poorly. Sez she cun’ breathe. She’d left bleach down the bog an’ thought it were just that, but Aunty Ray sez as soon as she laid ’er eyes on ’er she knew it was summat serious. When I went in, she was sat on a stretcher wearin’ a gown an’ an oxygen mask. Ya could see ’er dandruff in the bright lights. She’s got lovely dark hair, Old Mother ’ubbard. Same colour as mine. She’s only gorra few greys, which in’t bad for a Mammar, is it?
She were diagnosed with emphysema a few years ago, but she carried on smokin’. Aunty Ray’s tried everythin’ to get ’er to quit, but ya can’t force someone, can ya? We all begged ’er. But she wun’t listen. Aunty Ray even threatened to stop visitin’ ’er if she din’t stop, coz she sez she wants ’er to live a long life an’ be around to see ’er have kids one day. She used to hide Mammar Joe’s fags when she were little, coz even then they knew it were bad for ya. An’ yet here I am, standin’ outside A&E, smokin’ like there’s no tomorrow. I sez, “I’m sorry Aunty Ray, but I need this.”
She sez, “She’ll get through this, ya know? Mammar Joe’s a fighter.” But she’s lookin’ up at the stars, like she’s not really talkin’ to me, like she’s sayin’ it to the universe. An’ I’m thinkin’, No, she’s not. I love Mammar Joe to bits, but out of everyone I know she’s the person most likely to just drop down dead at any minute. I call Mam up afterwards an’ she sez exactly the same thing. “But don’t say that to Aunty Ray.”
The Time is Now
The nurse is askin’ me what ma relationship with ’er is. So I tell ’er she’s ma mammar an’ she guz, “Ah, OK”, an’ walks off. Well, I’m not havin’ that, am I, so I follow ’er to the desk an’ say, “What’s goin’ on? Have ya got ’er results?” But she sez she can’t tell me coz I’m not “immediate family”. I’m like, “Are ya kiddin’ me? She brought me up, for God’s sake. Why d’ya think I’m here? D’ya think I’m sat there sobbin’ coz I’m a distant relative?” They told us to go home last night, but I’ve bin here all morning. Aunty Ray stayed all night. She’s gone home to shower now. I shoulda just said, “She’s me mam.” Coz honestly, I wish she was. I sez, “So you’re tellin’ me you’ve got information in yer hand an’ ya won’t share it wi’ me coz she din’t give birth to me? An’ yer gonna make me wait till me mam gets here, like she’s more important than me?”
Mam don’t even visit ’er! I live with ’er, for fuck’s sake! But I’m not allowed to know how ill she is? I’m fumin’. I run out an’ call me mam, tell ’er to get here as soon as possible. But as I’m about to go back in an’ demand to speak to someone higher up, Aunty Ray arrives. I don’t wanna be anywhere near that nurse now, so I just go an’ sit wi’ Mammar Joe while Aunty Ray talks to ’er. I’m lookin’ over at ’em an’ thinkin’ how good Aunty Ray is at calmin’ things down. But then she bursts out cryin’, an’ I know. I just know.
The doctor comes over an’ pulls the curtain round Mammar Joe’s bed, an’ takes us to one side. Lowers ’is voice an’ sez they’ve looked at the X-rays an’ she’s got lung cancer, an’ it’s spread all through ’er body. Sez there’s nowt they can do to help ’er. Aunty Ray asks ’im how long she’s got an’ he guz, “No one can say for sure in these situations, but you’d better prepare yourself for the worst. I’m afraid we’re looking at a couple of days, if that.”
He pulls back the curtain an’ taps Mammar Joe on the shoulder. “Josephine, can you hear me?” She makes a sorta grunt an’ guz, “Yeah.” I can’t stand to hear ’er like this.
“Are you in pain?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to give you something for that. Do you want to hear your test results?”
“No.”
“You’re very ill though, Josephine. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Then he comes back an’ pulls the curtain round again. Sez he don’t see any point tellin’ ’er exactly what’s happenin’. “I think she knows,” he sez. “People tend to know.”
The ward overlooks the grounds. Ya can see the trees swayin’ in the wind. It’s summer, technically, but there’s still a bit o’ spring in the air. The whole world seems to be burstin’ wi’ life, just to rub our noses in it. There’s no privacy. Ya can hear the people talkin’ to their visitors. An old woman on the other side o’ the ward opened ’er bowels earlier. I’ve never smelled owt like it in ma entire life. It was like death. The nurse asked Mammar Joe if she wanted some tea, an’ I burst into tears coz I thought this could be ’er last cup of tea. An’ it was. She took two sips with a straw then slipped out of consciousness. I just sat starin’ at it, thinkin’, She’s never gonna finish that. She’s never gonna finish a cup of tea again.
At about one a.m., Aunty Ray tells me mam to go home an’ get some rest. We promise to call ’er if Mammar Joe gets worse. I mean, it’s a bit of a risk, innit, but I don’t think any of us can actually believe she’s gonna die. Coz it’s all so sudden. How can ya have lung cancer an’ not know it? People know when they’ve got cancer, these days. Who the hell just turns up to A&E dyin’ o’ cancer? Cancer’s not menna be an emergency. It don’t make no sense.
There’s nowhere to sleep, but the nurse said we could use the visitors’ room at the end o’ the corridor if we wanted. It’s just a little room with a sofa in it, an’ ya can’t really make it dark coz it’s attached to the corridor by a frosted glass wall, but I managed to get half an hour or so in there earlier, so I’ve told Aunty Ray to go an’ have a lie-down for a bit. She was up all night. I’m used to stayin’ up on Sat’day nights anyway. Wonder what them lot are doin’.
They turn the lights off on the ward at night, but there’s light comin’ in from the windows above the doors. They’re covered in a blue plastic film so everythin’ looks like the end of Titanic when Jack’s dyin’. Mammar Joe looks like death. I’d always thought that gerrin ya heart broken were just a turn of phrase, but I could actually feel it happenin’ to me when the doctor said she was dyin’. It was like a chemical reaction had bin set off in ma heart, an’ I could feel it spreadin’ into the rest of ma body, like poison. I din’t know it were even possible to feel like this. It’s amazin’, really. Just think, all this time ma body’s had the power to make me feel this bad. Funny, innit? The chemicals must’ve have bin sittin’ there all that time, in ma brain, waitin’ for the trigger.
Grief’s like one o’ them things ya can read about or see on the telly, but ya just can’t understand till you’ve bin through it. Like puberty, or fallin’ in love. Ya think ya know what it’s all about, but until it happens to you, really it’s just words. Like grief. An’ heartbreak. But they’re not just words to me now. I know what they describe. This.
But as I’m sat thinkin’, Mammar Joe’s head jolts like she’s tryna cough. I jump up an’ try to put ma hand behind ’er ’ead, but then blood starts spurtin’ out ’er mouth. I don’t know what to do – I don’t wanna shout coz everyone’s asleep, but she’s chokin’. So I have to. I call the nurse as quietly as I can an’ try an’ sit ’er up, but she can’t hear. I’m thinkin’, Oh God, she can’t breathe. The blood looks purple in the light, an’ I can’t stand to see Mammar Joe like t
his so I run to the desk an’ beg ’em to come an’ help. They come straight over an’ I just stand there while they prop ’er up an’ open up ’er airways. I don’t know what to do wi’ mysen, so I go an’ wake up Aunty Ray.
They got ’er breathin’ again, but they say she’s goin’ downhill an’ we should call anyone she’d want to be with ’er. Sez they’ll find us a private room. Aunty Ray sez I’ve gorra try an’ get some sleep till they’re ready to move ’er, but I just keep driftin’ in an’ out of nightmares.
Barber’s Adagio for Strings
The doctor sez we should keep talkin’ to ’er coz yer hearin’s the last thing to go. I think he said it to comfort us, but I find that quite terrifyin’ actually. Coz it must be so frightenin’, not bein’ able to speak. An’ lonely. To be trapped an’ in pain, an’ know yer body is dyin’. Mammar Joe’s biggest fear is havin’ an operation an’ the anaesthetic wearin’ off enough for ’er to feel pain, but not bein’ able to scream. She saw a documentary about it once on Channel 5. An’ I agree, it sounds unbearable. So I’m wonderin’ if that’s how she feels now. Scared. Powerless. Voiceless.
