The Nurse

by Amy Cross

  No reply.

  I step forward, before stopping again as I realize that there's no way I want to risk playing the piano again. Not tonight, anyway.

  Taking a deep breath, I stumble toward the stairs and start making my way up. I think I've completely embarrassed myself tonight and let my fears run unchecked, and I need to get my head straight. By the time I get to the top of the stairs, I've managed to persuade myself that there's definitely no ghost here in the house. Whatever might have happened here in the past, it's long gone and over.

  I need to get a grip.

  “Stupid,” I whimper, feeling as if I'd be crying now if my tear ducts were still intact. “Stupid, stupid...”

  Chapter Twenty

  Alice - Twenty years ago

  “It's okay,” I tell Father as I grab the tube and force it into his mouth, trying to suck out some more phlegm. “Just stay calm and -”

  He bites down, gripping the tube with his teeth.

  “Stop doing that,” I continue. “Please, you just -”

  Letting out a loud gurgle, he pushes me away and takes hold of the tube himself, forcing it further down his throat.

  “Dumb cow,” he gurgles, before adding something else that I can't quite make out.

  “That's dangerous,” I say firmly, pushing his trembling hands aside and taking control again. “Just -”

  He tries to struggle with me again, and this time the tube falls away, hitting the floor and rolling away. A trail of yellowish phlegm runs down the side of Father's face as he leans back on the bed and starts gagging.

  I hurry around the bed and grab the tube, but then I freeze for a moment when I turn back and see that his whole body is shuddering. All I have to do is push the tube into his mouth and draw out more of the built-up phlegm, but right now he's in danger of drowning in his own mucus and I can't help realizing that if I just wait a moment longer, if I do nothing, all his suffering will come to an end.

  He reaches up and grabs his throat with trembling, swollen hands.

  What happens if I drain the phlegm and keep him alive? He's got a few months left at most before the cancer finishes him off, and he's only going to end up in more pain as his body fails. Maybe I'd be doing him a favor by letting it all end right now. All his pain would be over within the next couple of minutes, and no-one would be able to prove that it was anything other than an accident. Perhaps it's selfish of me to keep him alive, when I could -

  Suddenly he turns and looks straight at me, and I immediately realize that I have to act.

  Hurrying back to the bed, I force the tube into his mouth and start drawing out as much phlegm as possible.

  ***

  “Why did you wait?”

  Dipping the tube into the bowl of water, I take a moment to clean away more phlegm. I expected him to ask that question, but I don't have an answer.

  “Why did you wait to help me?” he asks again. “I saw that look in your eyes, it was almost as if...”

  His voice trails off.

  I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of an explanation, before slowing turning and seeing – for the very first time – a hint of fear in his eyes.

  “Were you...”

  Again, he seems unable to get the words out.

  “Perhaps you're confused,” I tell him calmly, although deep down I don't really want to calm his fears, not entirely. I like the thought that he fears me. After all, fear is a form of respect.

  “You were watching me,” he stammers. “I saw you, you were just... You were just watching me, almost as if you were thinking about...”

  I wait for him to complete the sentence.

  “Almost as if I was thinking about what?” I ask, before setting the washed tube aside and starting to dry my hands on a towel. “What's wrong? You seem concerned about something.”

  He hesitates, before turning and looking toward the window, where morning sunlight is streaming through the net curtains.

  “You're in pain,” I say finally.

  “You can't even begin to imagine what it's like.”

  “So maybe...”

  He pauses, and then he turns back to me. “Maybe I'd rather die, and save everyone the bother?”

  “That's not what I said.”

  “But it's what you're thinking,” he continues. “I can see it in your eyes. You were actually considering...”

  Again his voice trails off.

  A faint smile crosses my lips as I realize, for the first time, that he doesn't see me as a complete idiot. Instead, he seems to have finally realized that I'm the one in a position of power here, and that I could end his life relatively quickly. I'm not going to do such a thing, of course, but I don't mind him thinking that I might.

  Setting the towel down, I make my way over to the side of the bed.

  He stares up at me with fear in his eyes.

  “Do you think I'm a good nurse?” I ask.

  “I want to call Malcolm.”

  “Why?”

  “I just do!”

  “You spoke to him yesterday.”

  “I want to speak to him again!”

  “I'm afraid your phone is still charging.”

  “Bring it anyway!”

  I pause, before shaking my head.

  “Bring my goddamn phone!” he hisses.

  “It's still charging,” I tell him again. “The battery could become damaged if I unplug it too soon. Just be a little patient.” I force a broader smile. “There's no need to be worried. I'm right here, and I'm going to look after you. But tell me... Do you think I'm a good nurse?”

  He continues to stare at me for a moment longer, before finally looking away.

  “You're a wretched failure,” he mutters after a few seconds. “Everyone knows it. You barely lasted a year as a nurse before you outright killed a patient.” He pauses, before turning to me. “How old was he? Eight? And you ended his life through carelessness. It's not as if you have many tasks as a nurse, but not killing your patients would be a good start. Then again, maybe you did it on purpose.”

  “Of course not,” I reply, shocked by the idea. “I just -”

  “I saw that look in your eye just now,” he spits back at me. “I don't know whether you're incompetent or evil, but you're sure as hell not a good nurse.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that he's wrong, but somehow the words catch in my throat.

  “Now why don't I go and make you some lunch?” I say finally, turning and heading to the door. “I'll heat up some soup.”

  When I reach the door, I realize that for perhaps the first time ever, he hasn't insulted me as I leave the room. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that he's eyeing me with fear, and I can tell that the situation between us has subtly changed. Finally, I'm being shown the respect I deserve.

  “Your mother would be disgusted by you too,” he sneers. “God rest her soul. You're just a piece of shit. The only jobs you're suitable for are menial labor, where you can't hurt anyone!”

  I want to tell him that he's wrong, but I can already see the boy on the landing again. He's watching me from the grave.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rachel - Today

  “I was at the school last night,” Mum explains, as I hear her swinging the fridge door shut. “I told you that.”

  “You didn't,” I reply. “You said you were cleaning at the old phone exchange.”

  I wait for a reply.

  “You said you were cleaning at the phone exchange,” I tell her again. “You did! Believe me, I remember! I pay attention to stuff like that these days! I need to know where you are, in case there's an emergency! And it's not like you ever answer your cellphone when I call!”

  Still nothing. If there's one thing that really bugs me these days, it's people who don't answer. How else am I supposed to know whether they're even listening to a word I say?

  “Mum -”

  “Would you like soup for lunch?” she asks, with a tone of voice that suggests she absolutely does not
want to talk about this right now.

  “The guy on the phone said he'd never heard of you,” I continue. Having decided not to tell Mum about my little adventure with the taxi driver, I've claimed instead that I phoned the building instead. After all, if she's been lying about where she works, it's not like she's going to accidentally discover that I showed up. Besides, I really don't want to admit that I let myself get spooked so easily. If I tell her about the face I imagined, she'll think I'm some kind of baby. “He said you haven't been there for at least the past few weeks.”

  “He must have been confused.”

  “He sounded pretty certain.”

  “Then you called the wrong number,” she continues. I hear the sound of a Tupperware container being opened. “What happened last night, Rachel? Why were you suddenly trying to call me?”

  “I just...”

  I pause for a moment, remembering the face that I felt. Its flesh was so cold, but I only touched it for a few seconds before it vanished into thin air.

  “I just wanted to see if you were okay, that's all,” I mutter. “It seems pretty weird that you weren't where you said you'd be.”

  I wait again, but all I hear is the sound of her opening some Ziploc bags.

  “Mum?” I continue. “I feel like you're not telling me something.”

  “This tomato soup should still be good,” she says finally. “I'll just add some fresh basil to liven it up a little.”

  ***

  After a very silent and very irritating lunch, I decide to sit on the porch for a while. The last thing I want is to be the local blind girl, with people wandering past the house and feeling sorry for me, but at least out here I can listen to the sound of the neighborhood and try to imagine what the place is like.

  Plus, I can get away from Mum for a few minutes. I need time to think, because she's clearly not being straight with me.

  In a nearby tree, some kind of bird is twittering. I guess I should start appreciating that kind of thing a little more, seeing as how listening to birds might as well be one of my new hobbies.

  “Hey.”

  Almost jumping out of my skin, I blurt out a shocked gasp as I turn and look to my left.

  “Sorry,” Aidan's voice continues, “I didn't mean to startle you. I guess I... Well, I forgot you wouldn't see me coming.”

  I hear the boards creaking slightly, and I realize I was lost for a moment in a world of my own.

  “It's fine,” I stammer, although I can hear the surprise in my own voice. “I was just... listening to birds.”

  “I saw you sitting out here and I thought I'd drop by and let you know what I found out about your house.”

  “You looked it up?” I ask, feeling a flash of gratitude as I realize that he actually kept his promise. I guess he wasn't repulsed by me the other day.

  “It wasn't exactly a big job,” he replies, and I hear the rustle of papers. “I printed some stuff out, but then I realized...”

  His voice trails off, and he sounds a little awkward.

  “Do you want to sit down?” I stammer, trying not to sound too desperate. After a moment I shift along the bench a little and pat the cushion next to me.

  A shudder passes through my body as I realize that he probably just feels pity when he sees me.

  “Sure,” he says, although he sounds a little awkward. Nevertheless, a moment later I feel him sitting on the other end of the bench, and there's another rustle of papers. “So, uh, it turns out I was mostly right about the nurse who lived here before you. Her name was Alice Bradshaw, and the place was actually her parents' house. Her mother was long-gone, she died when Alice was a kid, leaving her with her father and brother. And then when her brother moved out, it was just Alice and the old man.”

  “That sounds kind of sad,” I reply.

  “It gets worse. The old guy got sick. Really sick, like... Multiple cancers, plus problems with his gallbladder and his intestines. The kind of thing where the hospital runs out of ideas. Eventually it became clear that there was nothing else to do, and he just came home to die.”

  “So someone did die in the house,” I whisper, feeling a faint shudder of concern. Or maybe excitement. “I knew it!”

  “Alice basically became her father's carer,” Aidan continues. “I can't imagine what it's like to do that kinda thing for one of your own parents. I mean, doing it for a stranger is crazy enough, but when it's your father...”

  He pauses.

  “From what I found,” he adds after a moment, “the father lingered for about a year. People saw Alice out and about less and less, it's like she became some kind of hermit. And then eventually her sister-in-law reported Alice's brother missing, and the cops showed up to ask some questions, and that's when they discovered what she'd done. Her father and brother were dead in the house, and Alice was carted off to some kinda psychiatric hospital.”

  “Two people died here?” I ask. “What happened to them? Did she cut them up with an ax?”

  “I'm not quite sure. It doesn't say here.”

  “And then what happened to Alice?” I continue. “How did she die?”

  “She didn't,” he replies. “At least not as far as I can tell. It seems like she was sentenced to serve time at the hospital, and I guess she's still there. I mean, I'm pretty sure that if you kill two members of your own family, they don't exactly rush to let you out again.”

  “Rachel?” Mum calls out from inside suddenly. “Are you talking to someone?”

  “I'm fine!” I shout back at her, before forcing a smile. “My mother's a little protective.”

  I hear the rustling of more papers.

  “And then the house stood empty for a long time,” Aidan explains. “There's very little information about what happened to Alice Bradshaw. I guess maybe the court records were sealed, something like that. The internet wasn't much help.”

  “So what you're saying is that one day she might come back, break into the house, and kill us all while we sleep?”

  I hear a hint of faint, nervous laughter.

  “To be honest,” I continue, “that story isn't actually as bad as I'd expected. I was thinking someone went nuts with an ax, and that there were bloodstains all over the walls.” I pause for a moment. “Mum hasn't really described the house to me very well, but I can tell that it's pretty rundown. Is this a bad neighborhood, or is the house just kind of sticking out as an eyesore?”

  “It does look a little out of place,” he replies. “I remember people talking about how the house might get demolished, but I guess that's not gonna happen now, not if someone's renting it out to you guys.”

  I wait for him to continue, but an awkward silence has fallen between us now. The last thing I want is for him to leave, but I can't think of anything to say, at least not anything interesting. I mean, I can think of one thing, but it's so cliched, so movie-of-the-week, I can't bring myself to say it. At the same time, I really want to see whether...

  “Can I feel your face?” I ask finally.

  Dumb.

  Very dumb.

  Again, he laughs nervously.

  “I'm sorry,” I continue, “I know that sounds like some lame scene from a TV movie, but... It's just kind of hard to picture people if I don't have any idea what they look like. I mean, your voice sounds pretty cool, but you could be anything from a dwarf to a ten-foot giant, and I don't...”

  Again, my voice trails off.

  I think I just officially blew this.

  “Sure,” he says cautiously, “I mean... Yeah, why not?”

  I take a deep breath, before reaching my hands out toward him.

  “Here,” he says, gently taking my wrists and guiding my hands until I feel his face. “This is me.”

  As my fingers settle on his features, I realize that he's definitely not a dwarf or a giant. He has smooth skin, with a hint of stubble around the jawline, but the most striking thing is the fact that I can feel his cheekbones so clearly. I don't want to freak him out completely, so I
refrain from running my hands down onto his neck. Instead, I feel his forehead, and after a moment I realize that he has an eyebrow piercing. My fingers brush against what feels like a small metal ring.

  “Oh, that,” he says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I was thinking of taking it out. I got it done a few years ago at camp.”

  “It's cool,” I reply with a smile. “Got any tattoos?”

  “One on my right arm, actually, but... I don't think you'd be able to feel it.”

  I smile again as I feel his hair. Short, clipped and with a small amount of product. All things considered, I'm getting the impression that he's probably pretty hot. As I move my hands back down toward his chin, I realize I can feel him smiling, complete with cute dimples. I know it's time to stop feeling his face now, and I'm probably being needy an weird and pathetic, but it's just so nice to actually have contact with another human being.

  “Rachel?” Mum calls out from the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? Are you hungry?”

  “I'm fine!” I yell, before forcing an awkward smile. “Mum again.”

  “So do you do this to everyone you meet?” Aidan asks.

  “Huh,” I whisper, moving my hands away. “What? Oh, no, I mean...”

  I take a deep breath, trying to regather my composure and act cool again.

  “Have you always been blind?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “So was there some kind of accident?”

  “It happened a long time ago,” I tell him, while reaching up to make sure that my sunglasses are still in place. The last thing I want is for him to see my scars. “I'm kind of getting used to the whole blind thing now, or at least that's what I've been telling myself. To be honest, though, I don't think I'll ever get it figured out, not entirely. And I'm still hoping that some day there'll be these implants or something, some way for me to...”

  I pause as I realize that I'm opening up way too much.

  “Rachel?” Mum calls out. “What are you doing?”

  “I should go inside,” I tell Aidan. “She's not going to stop.”