Diamond Eyes

by A. A. Bell

  ‘Ben! Ben!’ Mira bubbled through her spittle.

  He hugged her closer and rocked in time with her. ‘She used to think my squeaky shoes sounded evil.’

  ‘I’m blown away. She shouldn’t be able to register much of anything through the sedative, yet that’s the first positive response we’ve had, and it’s not even concern for herself!’

  Ben nodded as if it didn’t surprise him at all. ‘How are you feeling now, Mira?’

  ‘Face,’ she slurred, patting her puffy cheeks. ‘Hard. football.’

  Ben chuckled. ‘It looks a bit like one too. You’re still eye candy to me, though. Speaking of eyes. will you let me see them? Make sure they’re still healing?’

  Mira shook her head. ‘Ghosts... here. Sorry, hard to... speak.’

  ‘That’s your medication,’ Sanchez explained. ‘As it wears off, it can feel like you’re recovering from a trip to the dentist.’

  ‘Shave me?’ Spit dribbled from her bottom lip.

  Ben wiped her chin with his thumb. ‘Do you mean save you?’

  She nodded and a tear spilled from her tightly closed eyelids. He touched her hair and she dropped her head against his chest.

  ‘It’s a pity I can’t credit your name officially in her case file, Ben.’ Sanchez squatted down beside them. ‘She’s never expressed attachment to anyone as far as I’m aware. Only violence.’

  ‘Look, crediting me isn’t important. If you’re going to note anything on her file, please explain that she doesn’t like anyone touching her without warning her first. You have to remember that she broke every bone in her body after someone tripped her out of her treehouse — or, at least, that’s how she sees it. So she doesn’t respond too well to being startled. Year after year, though, that’s what’s been happening, and all those little tensions mount up, causing her to become explosive. That’s my opinion, such as it is. When she responds violently, I think it’s mostly reflex. You might as well hit her knee with a hammer and stand back so you don’t get kicked.’

  ‘Worth a try. I’ll revise the contact protocols on her door and see how that goes.’

  ‘See, Mira?’ Ben whispered. ‘Progress already.’ He spoke to Sanchez again. ‘She also needs bandages to protect her eyes in bright light until she learns to cope better, and a window that opens.’

  ‘The bandages are no problem. So long as they come off long enough each day to allow her skin to breathe. But what’s the window for?’

  ‘I wondered the same thing. Mira, can you tell the matron what you told me? She wants to help you as much as I do, but you got off on the wrong foot, unfortunately, and it’ll take both of you cooperating to fix it.’

  ‘Bree... breeze,’ Mira slurred. ‘Smells like...free...freedom.’

  Sanchez shook her head. ‘I can’t risk letting you escape, Mira. We both know that you’re very much smarter than you sound when you’re medicated. At this stage, you’ll have to trust me that it’s for the best.’

  Also, she signed to Ben, I’ll have to wait until I’m sure she won’t break the glass to slit her wrists or use the shards as a weapon.

  ‘We can appreciate that, can’t we, Mira?’ Ben said. ‘Maybe a window can be one of your first big rewards in a week or two, and in the meantime I’ll bring you a fan.’

  ‘You can’t do that yet either,’ Sanchez replied. Same reason. She may hurt herself. ‘But I can arrange for a plastic bucket of flowers each day. Would that be okay?’

  ‘Brown... brown flowers.’

  ‘You want dead flowers?’ asked Sanchez.

  ‘She means the brown boronias from the hedge at the front gate,’ Ben said. ‘Only a small percentage of people can smell them, and apparently Mira’s one of them.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Well,’ Sanchez conceded, ‘I’ll make sure she gets a nice assortment every day, so long as she promises not to do anything naughty with them.’

  ‘P-promise,’ Mira stuttered.

  ‘And no drugs on the days I visit,’ Ben added.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Starting now,’ he insisted.

  ‘Visit?’ Mira asked. ‘Not wor... working?’

  ‘Unfortunately, he’s not allowed to work here anymore, Mira,’ Sanchez said. ‘That’s not my decision. It comes from much higher up.’

  ‘No!’ Mira clung tighter to him. ‘Has to stay! Only Ben! He prom. promised!’

  ‘And you know I don’t break promises,’ Ben said. ‘So stop worrying.’

  Mira nodded timidly, but her face revealed lingering worry and confusion.

  See that? Sanchez signed. She’s cunning. Even drugged, she’s mimicking childlike behaviour to get her own way.

  Or perhaps she retreats into it when she feels threatened? he replied.

  ‘What... what’s happening?’ Mira asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Ben said. ‘Matron Sanchez is trying to be kind to you. She’s already been especially kind by letting me come to visit. Do you remember how we smuggled you past the guard in the boot of my car?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well, Matron Sanchez is sort of smuggling me in.’

  Mira’s expression changed momentarily, and slowly, hesitantly, she let go of Ben with one hand and held it open towards Sanchez as a timid invitation to touch her.

  Impressed but cautious, Sanchez stretched to accept it with her good hand. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, relaxing a little as she realised that Mira’s gratitude was genuine. ‘I really do want to help you, Mira.’

  ‘Help me. go home?’

  ‘Yes, of course I want you to find a happy home.’

  ‘My home. My home!’ Mira insisted.

  ‘That’s the goal for all my clients.’

  Mira hissed and pulled her hand away. ‘I hear se... secrets.’

  ‘Everyone has secrets,’ Ben replied, stroking her hair. ‘Even you, don’t you, Mira? You have things the matron doesn’t know yet — even if you haven’t deliberately kept them from her.’

  Mira nuzzled her head against Ben’s neck.

  ‘You may be surprised at just how much we have in common,’ Sanchez offered. ‘I do want to share it all with you though, so you know you can trust me.’

  Mira snorted. ‘Noth. nothing in common!’

  ‘I beg to differ. I’ll show you something right now, if you’ll trust me enough to let me hold both your hands at once.’

  Mira hesitated as if waiting for a warning from Ben, but he offered none, so she allowed Sanchez to scoop both hands into hers.

  She felt the difference at once. ‘Ew!’ she cried, snatching her hands away. ‘It’s wi... withered!’

  ‘My leg is almost as bad, Mira. You can trust me, because I’m like you. I was institutionalised in hospitals and orphanages for much of my life too.’

  ‘Fra... Fragile X?’

  ‘Infant polio. I’m told my mother drank bad water while backpacking through a very poor country.’

  Mira stayed silent for a long moment, swaying in astonishment.

  ‘Matron’s only one person, though,’ Ben said, still rocking in time with her. ‘You’ll need other staff to help you too. So you’ll need to be more tolerant of them. Can you try that for me?’

  She nodded again, but it was a tiny movement. He stroked a tear off her cheek as further encouragement. ‘Is there anyone else you’d like to care for you aside from me?’

  ‘Not Taser woman... or Leath... Leather man.’

  ‘Taser woman and Leather man?’ Sanchez asked. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Ben said, then elaborated with his hands. Steff and Nev used a stinger on her and Mira is hypersensitive.

  Sanchez frowned, pulling a notepad from her pocket to jot reminders. ‘Is there anyone you do like, Mira?

  Or anyone you might feel a bit frightened of now, but are brave enough to learn more about?’

  ‘Zhou.’

  ‘Joh?’ Sanchez scratched her chin. ‘Joh who?’

  ‘No, Zhou,’ Ben explained. ‘The long-hai
red Chinese doctor from the health survey.’

  Mira tapped her left brow, still keeping her eyelids closed. ‘Zhou has. kind voice. like Ben’s.’

  He’s not here, Sanchez signed to Ben. Finished tests early.

  She needs him anyway. Can you hire him as a consultant?

  ‘Maybe we could get him in. For an hour perhaps.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Mira? Matron Sanchez really is being very kind to you.’

  ‘Please call me Maddy,’ Sanchez said, still crouching on her stronger leg beside Mira.

  Mira’s face relaxed ever so slightly. ‘Matron Maddy.’

  ‘That’s right. Call me any time you want, day or night. I live here at Serenity too, so I’m never far away.’

  ‘You... prisoner too?’

  ‘Nobody is a prisoner here, unless they choose to be. Some, like you, just need to stay here for their own safety, much like a hospital.’

  Mira’s expression clouded again. ‘How. ‘ She coughed. ‘How. to call you?’

  ‘I’ll let you have a cordless phone in your room, if you promise not to break it. Let’s call it a reward for behaving so well during Ben’s visit.’

  ‘I can... phone Ben?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Unfortunately, these phones only work inside Serenity. But you can send him messages via the staff, okay?’

  She nodded, which was obviously easier than talking.

  ‘Promise you’ll behave?’ Ben asked her.

  ‘Promise... yes, promise.’

  ‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘I’m really proud of you, Mira. Tomorrow, when the medication’s nearly out of your system, we can show Matron Maddy why you’re such a special young woman, okay?’

  Mira’s fingers relaxed around Ben’s shirt collar. She patted his shoulder and released him completely. ‘Have... t’... show... me first.’

  Amazing, Sanchez signed to Ben. She even musters a sense of humour. I wasn’t aware she had one.

  There’s a lot you don’t know, he replied, but you need to.

  SEVENTEEN

  Sanchez sat at her desk listening to Ben’s account of the trip to the treehouse. Her eyes strayed to their reflections in the mirror: his outline was so crisp and clear, yet her own was blurred. It didn’t make sense. She donned her reading glasses, but focus wasn’t the problem. There was also the fact that her reflection was confined to a wheelchair. Her image reflected her frown as a smile, then nodded to her and disappeared, replaced by the normal reflection of her sitting on the far side of her desk in her green leather chair.

  She fiddled with her glasses and pen. ‘I’ll call Colonel Kitching,’ she said, realising Ben had stopped talking and was looking at her oddly. ‘Maybe he can pass a message on to let Dr Zhou know we’re trying to contact him.’

  She fossicked through her out-tray to retrieve a faxed memo with Kitching’s contact number.

  ‘Done,’ she said, replacing the receiver a few moments later. ‘That was Kitching’s secretary at the Sandy Creek lab.’

  ‘There are a thousand Sandy Creeks,’ Ben remarked. ‘Which one in particular?’

  Sanchez shrugged. ‘Inland somewhere. The number looks like it’s west of Birdsville.’ She escorted him to her door. ‘I’m really sorry things worked out this way, Ben. If you ever need a character witness, call me, okay?’

  He nodded and they exchanged farewells.

  ‘Same time tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Any time you can spare.’

  She watched him leave, then grabbed her phone and dialled again.

  In the window, she caught her blurred reflection: this time, her wheelchair-bound likeness looked sicker; open-mouthed, like a goldfish gasping for air.

  She closed the curtains and focused on the phone.

  ‘Hello, Mr Moon?’ she said as soon as the line connected. ‘It’s Maddy Sanchez. About that treehouse I sold you...?’

  Ben trudged out of the police station at midday, burdened by the confirmation that his car had indeed been sent to an impoundment yard in Brisbane, that it would take another fortnight to retrieve it, and that his house keys had gone with it.

  On foot, he caught the car ferry to North Stradbroke Island then hitchhiked further north and jogged the last twenty minutes along dirt and sandy roads to reach the secluded beachhouse that he shared with his mother.

  ‘Hi, Ma! I’m home,’ he called as he broke in through the ground-floor laundry window. ‘Did you miss me?’

  ‘Were you gone?’

  Her voice came from upstairs in her bedroom, and she sounded almost as angry as she did surprised, her usually charming British accent wavering just a little in time with the sounds of shuffling, as if she was hurriedly trying to move something — or someone.

  ‘I didn’t hear you drive in,’ she added.

  ‘Trouble with my car. It’s nothing. Should be fixed in a fortnight, I hope.’

  He glanced into the kitchen and saw a saucepan, two soup bowls and two spoons upturned and draining of suds on an otherwise spotless sink. Above him, he heard the floor creaking. He strode to the foot of the stairs and tapped the railing. ‘Are you cleaning again, Ma?’

  ‘You say that like it’s a dirty habit.’

  She hurried out of her bedroom doorway, straightening her black hair and the white collar of her nurse’s uniform, which always contrasted so attractively with her ebony skin.

  ‘Seriously, Ben-Ben, where have you been the last few days?’ Her hands played nervously on the top rail of the banister. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’

  ‘I had to work a few extra nights of overtime — didn’t want to bother you.’ He could tell that now was a bad time to mention that he’d lost his job; he hoped he’d find a new one before she found out through anyone else.

  ‘You couldn’t have called or left a note?’

  ‘Didn’t think of it, sorry.’ He headed back to the kitchen, aware that she sounded edgier than usual.

  ‘Do try to be more considerate,’ she called after him. ‘And do me a favour before you get settled? Feed Killer. He’s out chasing the seagulls.’

  ‘Sure, okay.’

  He was resigned by now to the fact that the only time his mother sent him off on a needless errand was on the very rare occasion she had a male visitor and wanted to smuggle him out. So he didn’t begrudge her her privacy. It’d been more than a year since her last lover, but he did wonder why she never wanted him to meet her male friends. He couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by that. Nevertheless, he opened a tin of dog food without voicing a complaint and crossed the living room to the timber sun-deck where his fat, arthritic Rottweiler was already waiting, wagging the stub of his tail and slobbering on the glass door.

  ‘How’s my old buddy?’ Ben opened the door, welcoming the sound of the ocean as well as his dog. ‘At least you still love me, right?’

  The dog whined and stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘You’ve been evicted too, have you?’

  Killer barked once; his trained response for ‘yes'.

  Ben scratched the dog’s ears. ‘Is she alone?’

  He barked twice.

  ‘I figured as much. None of our business, though, I guess. We’ve got our own problems.’ Ben glanced around the deck, where his power tools waited. ‘What are we missing here, fella?’

  The dog turned around in circles, sniffed behind a potted palm, then hobbled off down the beach to dig up his plate from the sand.

  ‘Buried it so it wouldn’t blow away again, huh?’

  Killer barked again, slumped his rump down and waited with a drooling tongue while Ben poured the meat from the can as one short fat sausage.

  ‘Bon appetiti

  The animal picked up the whole meal as one mouthful.

  Ben wagged his finger. ‘Uh-uh! What’s the rule?’

  Killer raised a brow, whimpered with his mouth full, then set down the meat gently to nibble at it.

  ‘That’s right. Don’t bolt your food. Yo
u know it gives you gas.’

  Ben fetched the walkabout phone from the kitchen, returned to the deck with it, and shifted a power-sander off his favourite sunlounge so he could make himself comfortable.

  He dialled call-connect to find a pizzeria near the Likiba Isle bridge, then ordered three crispy-crust pizzas with sample toppings of everything for delivery to Mira’s room in time for lunch tomorrow. Next, he called Matron Sanchez to make sure the pizzas would make it through security intact.

  As he hung up, he heard a motorbike fire to life beside the house and he sprang to his feet for a glimpse of the rider. All he caught was a faceful of sand and dust.

  ‘Nice,’ he muttered.

  Shedding his shirt and shaking it, he returned to the deck to distract himself with some sanding of its timber boards. He’d given himself blisters by scrubbing at them manually for three days before investing in a power sander. The dog came to lick his face, his tongue full of the smell of fresh meat. Ben shoved him away playfully and Killer bounced straight back, begging to play. Still, Ben couldn’t get Mira out of his head. He remembered her poet trees, the bulldozer tracks and the sound of machinery that she’d heard as they left. And Sanchez had mentioned the clearing.

  ‘Damn!’ He switched off the power sander and checked his watch. Only 1 pm.

  ‘Gotta go, boy. Hey, Ma?’ he shouted. ‘Can I borrow your Jag for a couple of hours?’

  A chain now barred the entrance to Mira’s property.

  Ben skidded his mother’s old white Jaguar to a halt and cut the engine. Getting out, he was overtaken by a cloud of dust and sand, and he coughed and shielded his eyes until it settled, leaving a pink icing on the car and an extra layer on the rainforest scrub either side ofhim. Higher up, the trees also bore evidence of larger traffic; branches snapped or hanging.

  On the ground, he found that his car’s tracks had been pulverised by truck tyres and more caterpillar tracks similar to those he’d seen on his first visit.

  A sign hung from the centre of the chain warning trespassers to stay out of the construction site.

  ‘Construction site?’ Ben swore and kicked the road. Sanchez must know about this! As Mira’s legal guardian, she’d have to be party to it. unless the work was being done on a neighbouring property? Perhaps one that shared the same road access?