Living Voice

by Karen West

  Chapter Two

  MUM OPENED THE passenger side window. ‘The snorkels are with the flippers,’ she called to Dad.

  ‘So, where’s the bag with the snorkels?’

  ‘In the bag with the flippers,’ Mum told him, and I could have easily wet my pants laughing.

  ‘Mum, that’s so cruel, shouldn’t we help him?’

  ‘No, he’ll find them, he just has to think it through.’

  ‘You’re mean.’

  Mum laughed.

  ‘Not funny,’ said Dad, opening the back of the Jeep and throwing the bag inside, missing the back of my head.

  ‘Dad, that just missed me.’

  ‘You’ll live.’

  ‘If this keeps up we won’t be stopping for ice cream,’ he threatened in his playful Dad voice.

  ‘Excuse me, you’re the one who eats ice cream 24/7, not us,’ Mum reminded him.

  I handed over my Prince CD, and Dad sent it straight back.

  ‘Did you bring your iPad and earplugs?’ he asked, via the rear view mirror.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good, use them.’

  I sat back and crossed my arms.

  Just as we got to the Spit Bridge, red lights started to flash, and we had to sit and wait for the bridge to go up to let the yachts with tall masts through.

  ‘I spy with my little eye,’ said Mum, ‘something starting with T.’

  ‘Traffic,’ I said, and Dad moaned.

  We arrived at Aunt Cass’s at 8.45 am. The door was open, but there was no sign of her. ‘I’ll check out the back,’ I told Dad, and bolted.

  I stood on the retaining wall and spotted Aunt Cass walking along the sand towards me with her full skirt hitched up in her undies. She was carrying a yabby pump in one hand and a bucket in the other. I jumped off the seawall and ran to greet her.

  Aunt Cass released the bucket and pump and squatted with her arms open like you would with a kid or a dog. I didn’t want to disappoint. Her arms wrapped around me as she kissed my cheek with her painted red lips. ‘Steph, you keep getting prettier,’ she told me. I swept up the bucket and pump, and we made our way back to the house.

  ‘Dad, you’ve got bait,’ I yelled, holding up the bucket.

  ‘Spaghetti for dinner,’ he called back.

  The water lapped at the tips of our flippers, and our wetsuits glistened in the morning sun. I spat in my mask, squished it around the glass with my fingers, and rinsed it out with sea water. The thick rubber strap pulled at my hair as I wiggled the lens, sucking it to my face. It was alien against my skin.

  Mum pulled her long auburn hair back into a ponytail and tied it in a knot. People say from behind they can’t tell Mum and me apart.

  We made our way out into the crystal-clear water off Snappermans Beach. The roar of a seaplane flying low filled my head with a buzz of excitement that made my heart flutter. I shaded my eyes from the sun and waved to the passenger, and he waved back. I loved the energy that surrounded us.

  I slipped the mouthpiece of the snorkel between my teeth and tasted bitter salt. Mum signalled before submerging. I followed. Although the water was clear, there was an undercurrent. The force of the tide pulled at me, inching me away from her as she entered a bed of seagrass and disappeared. I hovered facedown, waiting for her to come back, but a stingray stole my attention as it glided like a spaceship across the sand, before disappearing into deeper water. A school of silver whitebait separated, fleeing for somewhere to hide. The silence of the clear water made me think that this might be heaven. I stopped and allowed my body to move with the tide, floating through the water like a cloud being carried by the wind. The water gave me an inner strength, unlike anything that I experienced on land.

  Mum appeared beside me. She reached out, tapped the glass on my mask and pointed to a small patch of seagrass. I stared back at her blankly. She pointed again, and I followed the tip of her finger to a transparent seahorse, his tail hooked around a single blade of grass, his pouch bulging with eggs. I had only seen a seahorse in Mum’s laboratory or dead on the beach, spat out by the sea. I nodded.

  Mum signalled that she was heading back to the surface, and I followed.

  When I surfaced, Mum was treading water, clutching her snorkel and mask high above her head with one hand, struggling to stay afloat. Her lips were blue.

  ‘Did you see his eggs?’ gasped Mum. I’d never seen her so puffed out.

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ I called, studying her lips. ‘Do you want to go back to shore?’

  As Mum went to answer, a motorboat skipped across the water, drowning out her reply, and we bobbed up and down in the water like a couple of corks.

  ‘Are – you – hungry?’ she called between gasps. She stopped talking to catch her breath, and went under.

  Panic set in. ‘Mum,’ I screamed. She surfaced, spat out a mouthful of water and started coughing.

  ‘Shit,’ I squealed when she went to go under again. This was no asthma attack – something was wrong. I stayed with her until she was out of the water and safe on land.

  I pulled off my mask and snorkel, throwing them on the sand. ‘Here,’ I said, helping Mum out of her wetsuit and freeing her chest and arms. ‘Rest,’ I told her as I peeled off mine and started scooping up the gear, stuffing it into the bag. I zipped it up, threw it over my shoulder and turned to find her shivering, but the day was hot.

  I looked for Dad. He was sitting with Aunt Cass at the table under the frangipani tree.

  ‘Dad, Dad!’ I screamed, signalling with arms stretched high, hands flapping like flags.

  He waved back, and I panicked.

  ‘Dad!’ I bellowed, and started sprinting towards him. ‘Dad, HELP!’

  Finally, I had his attention. He jumped to his feet, took off across the lawn. He leapt off the wall and ran towards us. I’d never seen him move so fast.

  ‘Dad’s coming,’ I told Mum, but she just stood motionless, like a piece of driftwood in the sand. She started to sway. I helped her sit before she passed out.

  Dad dropped in the sand beside Mum. ‘What happened?’ he asked me.

  I started crying. ‘I’m not sure, one minute Mum was all right, and the next minute she wasn’t.’

  Aunt Cass gripped my arm, moving me away to give Dad room.

  ‘Kim, are you in pain?’ he asked.

  Mum reached for her chest. ‘I’m tight.’ Dad dropped beside her, put his ear to her chest and listened to her heart. As he took her wrist, to check her pulse, I tried to read his face and a sobbing sound escaped from my mouth. Wrinkles formed in the corners of Mum’s eyes. ‘I’m – okay – Stephanie.’ She took hold of my hot, sweaty hand. Her hand was freezing.

  ‘You’re cold,’ I told her.

  Dad scooped Mum up in his arms. ‘Cass, call an ambulance. Tell them, it’s a suspected heart attack.’

  Heart attack? Old people die from heart attacks.

  The walk back to the house was slow. Aunt Cass held the back door open. ‘The ambulance is on its way,’ she said.

  ‘Steph, you wait out the front for the ambulance,’ ordered Dad.

  ‘Do you want me to find Mum’s puffer?’

  ‘I said to wait for the ambulance, Steph, please,’ he snapped, taking Mum into Aunt Cass’s bedroom.

  Aunt Cass started steering me towards the front door. My head was ready to explode. ‘Just stop.’ I squealed, pushing her away, and held my head. ‘I want to be with my mum. She’s not going to die, is she?’

  ‘No,’ she reassured me, taking my hand, ‘but Steph, you have to stay calm.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I snapped, releasing my hand, and ran outside.

  The noise of the siren was freaking me out. I waved, signalling for the ambulance to stop at our house. I waited for them to cut the engine and ran up to the driver’s door. ‘My mum’s inside,’ I told them and waited impatiently as they collected their gear. ‘Hurry,’ I begged, leading the way.

  The paramedics brushed past me and Aunt Cass led them to Mum
. I followed from a distance. ‘All the signs of a heart attack,’ said Dad, rubbing his hand across his chin. He only does that if he’s upset or worried. A lump of fear rose from my stomach and lodged in my throat.

  One of the paramedics took Mum’s pulse and listened to her heart with his stethoscope. The other paramedic was swabbing her skin with wipes, attaching electrodes to her chest, arms and legs. Once in place, he switched on the ECG, and Dad hovered over the machine as the results came spitting out on a long strip of paper.

  The paramedic glared up at Dad. ‘Are you a doctor?’

  ‘A vet,’ he replied, and mouthed words to Aunt Cass that I couldn’t hear.

  One of the paramedics started asking my mum questions, but her voice was too soft to hear her answers. The other paramedic rushed back to the ambulance.

  ‘Dad, what’s happening?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Dad,’ I said louder, ‘are they taking Mum away?’

  ‘Later,’ he snapped, and I backed away.

  The paramedic switched off the ECG. Dad came over to me and waved Aunt Cass in closer.

  ‘The ECG wasn’t too bad, but they have to take your mother in for observation. I’ll go in the ambulance and Aunt Cass will take you. We’ll meet at the hospital.’

  It made sense, but I didn’t allow my body to relax. I stood hard against the wall as the paramedics wheeled Mum past me. When she reached out for my hand, the paramedics stopped, allowing her to talk. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told me.

  I studied her lips. They were back to their normal soft pink colour. I bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Mum disappeared into the back of the ambulance and Dad climbed in after her. The siren started up as they drove off, indicating that the emergency wasn’t over.

  Aunt Cass wrapped her arm around me and led me into her bedroom. I stood at the end of her bed, numb and helpless. Like a toddler, I let her dress me.

  ‘The keys, where are they?’ she mumbled, rummaging through the bag on her bed.

  ‘They were on the kitchen bench,’ I replied.

  Aunt Cass swept up my hand, snatched the keys off the bench and ushered me out the front door towards the garage. I stood watching as she struggled to open the old timber doors. I didn’t think to help her.

  ‘Come on,’ she called, waving me over to the passenger side door of Grandad’s black Bentley. I was wearing my white top, a pair of long, flowing blue-and-white cotton tie-dyed pants and a pair of red Crocs that were too big. The pants and the Crocs belonged to Aunt Cass.

  Aunt Cass wriggled her bottom into the cracks of the old leather seat, gripped the steering wheel and turned on the ignition. The engine started to hum. Her freckled face was flushed. The humming of the engine interrupted my thoughts. Aunt Cass released the handbrake and started reversing.

  ‘You’re worried too, aren’t you?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course, I am, Steph, but stressing isn’t going to help.’

  Fear sat in the back of my throat like a lump of bread stuck halfway. I swallowed. ‘I wouldn’t want to live if anything happened to Mum.’

  Aunt Cass frowned. ‘Nothing is going to happen to your mother, Steph!’

  ‘You didn’t see her struggling out there – she could have drowned.’

  Aunt Cass stopped at the end of the driveway to let a car go by. ‘Your mum didn’t drown.’ She placed her hand on my mine. ‘She’s safe.’

  I stared vaguely at the world beyond the car. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘You did well, Steph, you took control of the situation. Your mum would be proud.’

  ‘Joslyn, she’s in my grade, her mum died.’

  ‘Your mother isn’t going to die.’

  ‘How did Gran die?’

  ‘Your Grandmother was eighty-one when she died.’

  ‘Yeah, but what happened? I knew that she was unwell. Was it her heart?’

  ‘It was old age.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I said, resting my head against the headrest, thinking of life without Mum. What would happen to me? Our house would be empty, I’d be alone. I’d never want to paint again. My eyes filled with tears as I drowned in self-pity.

  Aunt Cass’s hand touched my knee. ‘Your mum’s not going to die,’ she reassured me, but I didn’t believe her.

  ‘Did you pick up my phone?’

  ‘I threw it in my bag. You can reach in for it if you want.’

  ‘No, I’m not ready to talk to anyone just yet.’ It’s crazy how one minute things are perfect, and suddenly they’re not.

  Chapter Three

  THERE WERE TWO ambulances parked in the hospital emergency area. The door of one was open, but I couldn’t tell if it was the same ambulance that had transported Mum.

  Aunt Cass veered into the entrance of the hospital car park, stopped, took a ticket, and the boom gate opened, letting us through.

  ‘The car park’s full,’ she told me, and made her way to level blue, then green, to yellow, stopping on level orange. All the spiralling didn’t help the knot in my stomach. Aunt Cass got out and slipped the parking ticket into the side pocket of her skirt, waiting for me. I admired the way that she handled a crisis. She was as solid as a World War II bunker. ‘Hurry,’ she ordered and started walking towards the lift. I ran to keep up.

  The lift was claustrophobic and smelt of worn rubber and disinfectant – disgusting. The words welcome to shit creek were scratched on one of the stainless-steel panels. I held my breath between floors.

  The doors opened into a reception area.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Aunt Cass, leaving me in the patient administration area. A girl lined up behind Aunt Cass. She had a massive tattoo with the name Chris across her lower back. At least she had options if they broke up. You could turn the name Chris to Christ or Christmas. I managed a smile.

  Aunt Cass came back. I tried to read her face. ‘Your mum’s been taken to emergency.’

  ‘Emergency? Why there?’

  ‘The doctors will run the appropriate tests that will explain what happened and if it’s recurring.’

  ‘Are you saying this could happen again?’

  ‘I’m saying that it’s possible.’

  ‘So, what happened might not be a one-off?’

  ‘Steph, please,’ she sighed.

  I couldn’t help but fidget, back, forth, back and forth on the tip of my toes, as we waited for another lift.

  ‘Steph, please,’ Aunt Cass said again.

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  She sighed, and the lift door opened. As the door closed, I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall. My hair was stiff and knotted. I made a useless attempt to comb it with my fingers.

  We stepped from the lift into the corridor. The hospital was a huge rabbit warren. It took forever to find the emergency department. I stood in front of two transparent doors. Aunt Cass took my hand and led me to a row of empty chairs, where we sat waiting for news from Dad.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope,’ I said, peering beyond her, hoping to see my dad.

  Thirty minutes on and there was still no sign of him. My legs ached with all the waiting. I picked up a magazine; it was old, like three years old. The front page had a photograph of a model in a slinky bikini. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her bony frame. The caption above the picture read Career Versus Health. I rolled up the magazine and started slapping it against my hand.

  Aunt Cass reached out and placed her hand on mine.

  The double doors flapped open and a boy around my age walked out. He had thick blond hair that was stiff, like mine. He was wearing a pair of board shorts and a white T-shirt with a picture of a monkey smoking a bong. That didn’t impress me one bit. He made eye contact with me and dropped his head. He’d been crying. He turned right, and disappeared around the corner.

  An hour passed. I took my phone from Aunt Cass’s bag. Libby’s name was on the screen. I pressed re-dial, but it went to voice mail. I chose not to leave a message and scrolled to Willow’s number, then changed my mind.
Aunt Cass rested her head against the wall, with her eyes closed. The heaviness of her breathing told me that she was asleep.

  As I stood to stretch, the boy with the stiff hair returned wearing fresh clothes, a blue checked shirt, blue jeans and boots with the laces undone. He was accompanied by a girl, who I guessed was either a sister or girlfriend. His tanned face held a frown, and I noticed the girl’s face was blotchy. I tried not to stare and was relieved when they disappeared behind the doors.

  I sat. ‘I hate this place,’ I said, loud enough to wake Aunt Cass. The doors opened and at last Dad walked out. Aunt Cass stood and I ran over to him. ‘How’s Mum?’

  ‘They’re still running tests.’

  I frowned. ‘Still?’

  ‘They’ve done a chest X-ray and blood tests. I imagine they’ll also do a CT scan and possibly an MRI.’

  ‘So, it is Mum’s heart?’ My words came out loud.

  ‘Calm down!’ ordered Dad. ‘Let’s not start guessing.’

  I made a conscious effort to keep my voice low. ‘Dad, I’m not stupid. I know what a CT scan is. You did one on Milly, the wombat. She had a heart problem, remember?’

  ‘I’m not saying that you’re stupid, Stephanie. If it is her heart, they’ll call in a cardiologist.’ His voice broke. ‘Please – be patient.’ He reached out, tucking me under his arm. I knew that he was stressing because his body oozed an unnatural heat.

  We sat and a wave of silence came over us. Finally, a doctor came out to see us. We stood to attention.

  ‘Doctor Wong,’ he said, shaking Dad’s hand, and pointed to the chairs, gesturing that we sit. He reached for a chair and sat facing us. ‘I was asked to check your wife’s test results,’ he told Dad, and Dad’s jaw tightened. ‘Mr Conner, we’re picking up that there is an issue with Kim’s heart. We’d like to carry out further tests. The good news is that we don’t believe that Kim has had a heart attack, so there is no fear of her heart muscle having been damaged. I’d like to start with an MRI.’ Dad was right. ‘We’ll also do a heart echo, and if we still have questions, we’ll do a nuclear heart scan. Kim’s answered most of my questions regarding family history. She tells me that you’re a vet.’