by Kim Hodges
I knocked on Anthony’s door. I was so glad that he was home.
“Hi, I have fixed everything up,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Anthony replied.
“Things have not been going well for me, but I have fixed things up,” I said. The rain fell lightly. My watch showed 4 P.M.; I really needed to get moving.
“Please tell me what you’ve done,” he begged.
“I just need to get away for a while,” I said, ignoring his plea.
“Please tell me where you’re going,” he insisted.
I leaned over the gate and kissed him on his cheek, “I love you.”
“You don’t seem right,” he said.
“There’s no need for you to worry about me,” I assured him, and I turned and stepped off at a brisk pace.
“Please Kim, tell me where you’re going,” he called out after me.
“Past Lovers’ Rock,” I yelled back.
It was a fifteen-minute walk, up to the edge of the bush. I slipped through the fence and found the track. I knew the common land with my eyes closed. I had run on it four times a week for years. “Kim, the star athlete,” I sneered aloud. I walked to Lovers’ Rock and beyond. “Stupid name for a rock—I found no love here,” I shouted angrily at the stone. I followed the track’s gradual rise, stopped, and looked back at Coolah in the distance. “Stupid fucking town,” I said. In half an hour, the town lights would come on. I needed to find a safe, dry place to camp for the night. The rain got heavier, but it didn’t perturb me. I followed the track deeper into the bush. Waves of tiredness came over my body. I tried to shake them off, without success. My memories from that point onwards are hazy. I was feeling so tired that I had to sit to rest, and then rest to get up. I got all muddled. I reached a point of being too tired to get up to walk again. I remember crawling on the wet ground as I tried to get up but failed. “Get up. Get moving. Find a place to sleep,” I told myself. Finally, I used all of my energy to heave myself upright and then I started to run through the bush. After a few steps, I fell down a steep embankment. Pain wrapped around my ankle; I was unable to bear any weight on it. I looked up and realised I didn’t know where I was.
The bush all looked the same in every direction. I needed to find the track so I started to crawl back up, feeling for it. I needed to keep moving forward. I grabbed clumps of grass in my hands to help me crawl, lifting my good foot up to my waist and then dragging my bad leg after it. It was already swollen. Mud was caked under my fingernails. How long had I been crawling for? I wiped mud off my chin. I was not worried about the mud. I could only half feel my chin anyway. I rested, then crawled, then rested. I crawled a few centimetres at a time, searching for the right grass or roots to grasp onto to heave my body forward. This was my single goal now, to move forward, even though I had no idea where I was, or where I was heading. I felt satisfied every time I could do it. I peered upward through my wet hair, at the darkening sky. I could feel the rain running from my hair, to my nose, and into my mouth. I opened my mouth to catch the water. Everything was exaggerated, every motion, drop of water and blade of grass. I had completely forgotten why I was crawling through the bush. I suddenly felt very tired again; small waves of tiredness, then bigger ones, until the waves took too much energy to resist. I just wanted to sleep. My head fell to the ground. As I drifted off, my head was slightly on one side. I could feel the water gently landing on it. I smiled as I surrendered to sleep. I finally felt satisfied.
After some time, two tiny lights woke me. I watched the lights get bigger and recognised them as torches, in the distance. Then I heard voices calling me. “Kim!” and “Where are you?” and “Cooee!” repeating and ricocheting through the bush. I could not lift my head up, but I did smile as I recognised the voice. It was Anthony and he was getting closer to me. I tried to yell out to tell him where I was, but no words came out. I remembered something about a track, falling off it, so I stretched my arm out, felt for a stick, picked one up and banged the earth with all my might. I was wet, cold and hadn’t reached my destination, so it was all over. I wanted to be found. His torch found me and his hand touched my hair. I tried to smile but my face was set in stone, I tried to speak but I could not find any words. I recognised the other voice—he had Creepy Wayne with him.
“We have to get her out of here,” I heard Anthony say. They lifted me up but I could not bear weight on my left foot. They put my arms around their shoulders and I hopped on my good foot in the dark, for what seemed like ages. I once more felt very satisfied, this time with my ability to hop on one leg. The reason I was there, where I had come from, where I was going, none of these things had any bearing on my situation. I was so content with my ability to hop and that Anthony had found me. Our trio hobbled down the hill. I was so focused on my actions. I felt a sense of achievement at the distance I was able to achieve on one foot. I got into a swinging motion for a few metres, resting my arms on the young men’s shoulders. Eventually we went over Lovers’ Rock, awkwardly. I fell through the fence and they lifted me up and carried me to the edge of town. I was back where I had started but now a car was parked there. Now I understood why Anthony had brought Wayne. He owned a car. I was told to lean against the car, which I did willingly, while Wayne opened the door and Anthony helped me inside.
The car started to move. “We’ll take you home,” said Anthony. I dug deep inside and found a high-pitched scream to indicate that I was not going home. I tried to open the door to leave. Wayne jammed on the breaks, halting the car just as I opened the door. I stopped screaming as I heard the words, “Pub— we’ll book into the pub!” exclaimed Anthony. We went to the pub and Anthony organised a room. I tried to navigate the pub stairs with one foot, holding onto the staircase, but I was unable to. Anthony got on one side to support me with Creepy Wayne behind me. Again, I felt a sense of achievement in being able to hold my weight on the staircase and lift myself up. Those chin-ups in running training had come in handy—although at the time I had loathed them. Anthony took me into the simple room and helped me to undress, but he left my underwear on. He put a towel around me and knotted it to one side. Creepy Wayne was outside. Then they both helped me hop to the bathroom. I sat on the chair near the door, while Anthony ran a full bath. I hobbled to the edge of it.
“Are you okay now?” Anthony asked. I nodded, but no words were forthcoming.
“Yell out if you need anything. Or hit the wall. I’ll be next door,” Anthony said. I nodded again as he closed the door. I checked that Creepy Wayne was outside of the bathroom. I removed the towel and slid into the bath in my underwear. It felt so wonderful. Immediately the bath water changed from clear to brown and dirty. I let the water out and refilled the bath. I had gotten so dirty. I removed my underwear and placed them on the floor. I got in the bath again and found shampoo within arm’s reach. I washed my hair and poured water from the tap into the bath and swished around the remaining shampoo. Bubbles, I want bubbles. Those bubbles were so beautiful and shiny. Sometimes a bubble burst and disappeared into nothingness, other times the bubble lingered long enough for me to become attached to it. I smiled as my eyes followed these lingering bubbles in a dreamlike state. Then I noticed the impacted dirt under my fingernails and removed it with a face washer. I remembered grabbing at the clumps of grass to move forward on the ground, but that was a long time ago. I preferred to think about the bubbles as I enjoyed the water on and around me. It all was so wonderful.
I could sense that something had changed. I looked to the corner of the room and on a chair was a person—Creepy Wayne. He was sitting there watching me with those piercing eyes. Fear entered every cell in my body. I wondered how long he had been there, but realised I had no idea. I never even heard the door open or close. My hands felt for the face washer. I had to make an important decision: to cover up my very tiny breasts or down below. With his gaze on me I was feeling so exposed that I felt an urgency about covering up down below, which I did with one hand and the face was
her. I placed my other hand and arm over my breasts and sank my body deeper into the water, until my entire back hit the bottom of the bath, and I couldn’t go any further. That was the best I could do to get his gaze off me. I tried to speak out. My head was saying get out of this room and I told my mouth to shout it, but no words came out. I lay so still and deep in that bath terrified by what might happen. The bubbles helped to cover my body. I couldn’t look at him; once was enough. Had Wayne seen all of my private bits? How long had he been in the bathroom? There was a knock on the door. “Kim, are you okay?” said Anthony. I was frozen. I couldn’t move or speak. Of course I was okay, I was in the water and I love water, but Creepy Wayne was in the bathroom with me.
“I am going to come in now and check on you,” said Anthony cautiously, as he let himself in. Anthony entered and saw my eyes look over. He looked behind the door and saw Creepy Wayne just sitting there.
“What are you doing in here, you bastard? You said you were going home,” Anthony yelled.
“I’m keeping an eye on her,” Creepy Wayne responded with his eyes still on me.
“Fucking get out, get out you moron!” screamed Anthony pointing his arm to the door and out went Creepy Wayne.
“Just trying to help mate,” he said as he left.
Anthony held up a towel, helped me out of the bath and turned his back as I dried myself. He assisted me in dressing myself, while I leaned against the bath. Anthony’s way of looking at me was nothing like the gaze and piercing eyes of that Creepy Wayne. Anthony looked at me the same way when I was naked, as when we walked around the town together as friends, fully clothed. There was no longing, no desire, no lust nor expectations. I just knew he wouldn’t take advantage of me. I had felt exposed and highly vulnerable with Creepy Wayne, but with Anthony I felt none of that. I got new underwear and my jumper from my backpack with the big towel still wrapped around my bottom half.
As I hobbled out of the bathroom I saw my father walking up the pub stairs. I looked away. I felt betrayed, but too tired to fight. “You’ve done the right thing phoning us. Thank you Anthony,” my father said. The men helped me back down the stairs and into my father’s car. Creepy Wayne was sitting in his car, on the other side of the road. I felt his gaze still undressing me as I hobbled into the car.
“We’re going to the hospital,” said my father, as he reached over me to secure the seat belt. Sleep beckoned and I dozed off.
“Stay awake for me,” I heard my father say. But I was gone into deep sleep.
I woke to being shaken and the car door opening. Two women in white uniforms pulled me into a wheelchair. I was wheeled through the hospital doors and down a corridor. My head fell sideways, way too heavy to hold up. The bright ceiling lights zoomed in and out, creating unrecognisable angles before my eyes. The walls widened and then closed in on me as we passed wardrooms. I imagined I was at a fun fair on a fast ride, or in a nightmare—I wasn’t sure.
The nurses wheeled me into a ward with four beds. We stopped and I felt the brakes of the wheelchair go on. One nurse stood me up and the other one somehow put a hospital gown on me.
“What did you take?” Say nothing, I thought.
“What did you take?”
“What did you take?”
As she repeated her query again, the anger in her voice made me find my own voice.
“Pills.”
“What was the name on the box? You must tell us.”
“Valium.”
“How many did you take?”
I held up ten fingers and then two fingers.
“Twelve?”
I nodded.
The nurses lifted me up by my arms. I felt so happy that the bathroom was off the bedroom, only a few steps away. I was tired, worn out and wanted to sleep. They sat me on the toilet and one nurse held me up. The other nurse ran off and then reappeared shortly afterward, with some medicine and a glass of water.
“Take this.”
I really didn’t want to, but I was forced to have it. One nurse held my head up and pressed my cheeks in, whilst the other nurse poured. I swallowed. Once it had all gone down, one of the nurses put a couple of towels beneath my feet. I was instructed to get off the toilet, turn around and kneel down. There was no choice, the nurses were holding me, pulling me up and pushing me down onto my knees. The toilet seat was up.
“Now vomit.”
I had to vomit. I could not vomit. Time went on and I was drifting in and out of sleep. Even a few slaps on the face could not bring on a vomit, but it did wake me up.
“Wake up and vomit.”
How do I vomit on cue? Time stretched out; it felt like it had all lasted forever. I had no energy. I tried to shake my head, to indicate that it wasn’t working, but my head didn’t move. Time felt like it was standing still again.
“Wake up and vomit—now.”
I waved my hands in defeat, which earned me another dose. I was forced to drink the same mixture again, followed by a mouthful of water to wash it down. Again the nurse held up my head and pressed my cheeks. The other one poured. I swallowed.
“You must vomit within ten minutes. The doctor has been called and he’ll come and put a tube down your stomach and pump your stomach out if you don’t,” one nurse warned.
I can clearly recall hearing this instruction. Although only words, it felt more serious. I felt a hand on my face, and some little slaps again, as the first nurse kept up with her demands.
“Stay awake and vomit.”
“Believe me, pumping a stomach hurts,” the second nurse assured me.
Really, it was becoming tedious. Then the nausea hit. My head became dizzy. My stomach churned; side to side and up and down. At first I retched and then I vomited and vomited and I kept vomiting, until a light green fluid appeared from my mouth. There was nothing left to vomit anymore. Nothing.
“Very good,” said a nurse.
She wiped my face. The other nurse gave me mouthwash to swish, swash and spit out. I did this, pleased to carry out their instructions. Relieved the nurses’ commands had ceased, all I wanted to do was sleep. Dr Desmond appeared at the bathroom door.
“She did it,” a nurse said.
He didn’t say a word to me, or to the nurses, just nodded and left the room. Both nurses helped me up into the bed. As my legs slid under the rolled-back blankets, the sheets felt so fresh and starched. Even better than the sheets that my mother took so much pride in washing every week.
“Go to sleep now,” the nurse said, pulling the curtains. Finally, what I had yearned for so long. Exhausted and at peace, I lay in this wonderful firm bed with starched sheets. I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t, my face was too tired. I fell into the deepest sleep of my life.
When I eventually woke, I was disorientated about how I had come to be where I was and clueless about what time it might be. A food tray was set in front of me. I sat up and lifted the lid from my lunch. The clean and sterile surroundings orientated me; I was in hospital. I touched my very sore ankle, which felt double the size of my good ankle. The orange juice hurt my very sore throat as I swallowed. I had a faint memory of being over a toilet and vomiting, but I could have been wrong; it didn’t seem real. I also had a faint memory of crawling through the bush and of Anthony being there, but I wasn’t sure if that was real or not either. A drink and some food was all that I wanted. I ate each small mouthful with difficultly. I also managed to hop to the toilet and back on one foot.
“Hi. Are you okay? You had a long sleep,” a new white-uniformed nurse had appeared.
“Fine, thank you” I replied. That was the only time I was asked over the last year if I was okay. At that point in time I was fine. I was not hungry or thirsty, I was eating and drinking, everything around me was clean and, most importantly, my mother was nowhere near me.
“The doctor will be here in the afternoon to see you,” she said. I nodded. I dozed, in and out of sleep all day, lovely in-between sleep. I didn’t realise it was due to the effects of the
drugs that were still in my body.
Dr Desmond and one white-uniformed nurse appeared, late in the afternoon. He directed the nurse to pull the curtains. “Sit up and I will examine you,” said Dr Desmond. He looked into my eyes and checked my chest with his stethoscope. “Now show me your leg.” He looked at it and instructed the nurse to strap my ankle before I went home the following day.
“She will be fine,” he said to the nurse.
I continued to sleep deeply, but intermittently. I kept being woken by a nightmare about crawling through the bush in the rain. By mid-morning the next day, some new clothes from home had appeared via one of the nursing staff. I got dressed. The nurse bandaged my ankle. I watched her diligence, with my eyes following her pattern of wrapping the bandage around and under. The nurse instructed me to move into a wheelchair. I was wheeled to a room to wait for Dr Desmond to come and see me. Time ticked slowly, as I sat staring at the room around me. I felt nothing. Dr Desmond, in his white coat, eventually came and sat opposite me.
“Kim, I know your parents very well. I also know that you come from a respectable, good family. Therefore, your mother and father deserve more from you,” he said. I focused on his stethoscope, remaining motionless and expressionless.
“If you do this kind of thing again, I will authorise for you to be sent off to Morisset, most probably in a strait jacket,” he said. “Do you know what Morisset is?” he asked.
I nodded. Everyone knew that Morriset mental institution was where the mad, crazy, mentally-ill people were sent and once you had been admitted, it was hard to get released. My parents had often joked about Morisset in a threatening and fear-provoking way. Students at school feared the idea of Morisset.
“I will not put up with this type of behaviour and there are no second chances,” he added. “If there is a next time, you will be locked up and I will tell them to throw away the key. Do you understand?” Dr Desmond shouted at me.
