Living Voice

by Karen West

  ‘I’m with Taronga Zoo.’

  Dr Wong placed his hands on his knees and stood, and Dad stood with him.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dad.

  Dr Wong shook Dad’s hand. ‘Ladies,’ he said, acknowledging Aunt Cass and me. I managed to squeeze out a smile. ‘We’d like to see Kim before we go,’ Dad told him.

  ‘Yes, of course. As soon as Kim returns from having the MRI we’re moving her up to the ICU. Just give us an hour or so.’

  Soon after Dr Wong left, I caught Dad speaking softly with Aunt Cass. ‘Dad, there’s more – you know something, don’t you?’

  Dad’s face was calm, but his words were sharp. ‘Stephanie, I’m not going to start guessing. Once the test results are back, we’ll have the full picture.’

  Aunt Cass wrapped her arm around me. ‘No use in worrying ourselves sick, it won’t help. We need to stay calm for your mother.’ I knew she was right.

  The ICU had patients attached to life-saving monitors that beeped, lights that flashed and tubes attached to masks that delivered oxygen. The ward was busier than Maccas after the movies on a Friday night.

  A nurse dashed in front of me holding a green kidney-shaped bowl in one hand and a face washer and a towel in the other.

  We were walking past a bed with people standing around it, when a high-pitched beeping noise sounded. Doctors and nurses came running from all directions. A nurse flared her nostrils at me, snatched the curtain and pulled it around the bed.

  Dad placed his hands on my shoulders and steered me along like a pram. I glanced back and recognised the unlaced boots beneath the curtain. I wasn’t the only teen in crisis mode.

  Mum sat propped upright in bed and took my hand. Her hand was warm against mine, and her lips were pink. ‘I’m all right,’ she told me.

  ‘Anything for attention,’ I told her.

  ‘I might be in the hospital for a few days.’

  ‘Enjoy the rest,’ joked Aunt Cass, but no one laughed.

  It was after six when we left the hospital. We didn’t head back to Palmy to pick up our gear. Dad talked Aunt Cass into staying at our house.

  Aunt Cass walked into the lounge room, threw her handbag on the couch and sat next to it.

  ‘You can have my room,’ I told her. ‘I’ll sleep in the attic.’

  I was comfortable in the attic; that’s where I hang out most of the time. Two light shafts in the roof give excellent light for painting.

  As we sat in the lounge room, questions backed up in my head, but I was too mentally stretched to ask them. Dad went to speak then changed his mind. The dark hollows around his eyes told me that he was tired and worried. ‘Who’s hungry?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll put on the kettle,’ said Aunt Cass, but Dad put out his hand.

  ‘Stay here with Steph,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on.’

  The worry lines on Aunt Cass’s face were deep. I appreciated the quietness between us. I seriously needed time to think things through.

  Dad walked in carrying a tray. Aunt Cass took a sandwich from the tray, put it on a plate and handed it to me. I stared at it, picked it up, nibbled around the crusty edges, and placed it back on the plate. ‘Dad, I’m going to bed,’ I said, getting up. ‘Wake me if anything happens.’ Dad didn’t reply. ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I did,’ he said. ‘I’ll wake you.’ As I started walking Dad called me back. ‘Steph, you did well. I’m sorry if I upset you at the hospital.’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s cool. I’m sorry too.’

  Chapter Four

  I MADE FOR the kapok mattress beneath the window in the attic and dialled Libby up on FaceTime.

  Libby’s face came up on the screen. ‘Steph, I’ve been worried sick. What happened? Where have you been?’ She moved in closer. ‘Have you been crying?’

  ‘It’s been a shitty day.’ I started to go on, but my voice cracked.

  ‘Oh, Steph –’

  ‘Can … can you come over?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I threw the iPad on the mattress, covered my face with the pillow and sobbed into it, crying myself to sleep.

  The current was strong as it pulled Mum away from the shore. I attempted to swim across to her, but I couldn’t close the distance between us. Transparent jellyfish floated to the surface; their hoods sat like giant domes on the water. I stopped swimming and splashed my hands against the water, creating waves to push them away. A venomous tentacle wrapped around my wrist, sending a shooting pain up my arm. ‘Steph, go back,’ Mum called, and then she was gone.

  I sat up startled. The stairs creaked, the door flung open, and Libby rushed over and knelt beside me. I hugged her so tight she made a noise. My nose started to run. ‘I’ll put gunk on your top,’ I told her, pulling away, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

  ‘Steph, what happened?’

  ‘Mum’s in the hospital. We were snorkelling and – ’ I broke into tears. ‘Please stay, I can’t be alone tonight.’

  I woke in a sweat. The time on my phone read 2 am. I stepped over Libby and made my way downstairs for a glass of water. Dad was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of tea and his laptop. I glanced over his shoulder at the screen. He was on a heart website. The words heart disease stood out. I made a conscious effort to stay calm.

  I took a glass from the cupboard and turned on the tap. ‘What does Google tell us?’

  ‘Google says that you should go back to bed.’

  ‘Libby’s staying over. She snores worse than you. I can’t sleep … I want to stay here with you.’ Dad pulled out a chair, and I sat beside him. ‘Do you think Mum’s got heart disease?’

  Dad took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Steph, it could be anything. It might be something minor.’

  ‘Or big.’

  Libby shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Steph’s going back to bed,’ said Dad, and Libby did a U-turn and shuffled back to bed.

  ‘Off you go,’ said Dad, shooing me away with his hand.

  Libby pulled back the covers and rolled over. I slipped in beside her, my front to her back, and put my arm over her arm. ‘My brain won’t stop thinking,’ I told her.

  ‘Trauma can do that to people. I’ve seen it heaps of times on CSI.’

  ‘This isn’t a dumb television show.’

  ‘I’m just saying that stress does weird stuff to people,’ she sighed.

  Most friends my age had new glitzy houses, with fancy stainless steel appliances. Our house was old, but the house wrapped around our family like a warm blanket. Dad made hot chocolate on the potbelly stove.

  Libby sat at the table eating scrambled eggs with my baby teaspoon that had bunnies engraved on the handle. Egg rolled off the spoon into her lap. She used her long red manicured nails like chopsticks to pick it up and eat it. ‘We can drop you home on the way,’ I told her.

  ‘I’m coming to the hospital,’ she told me.

  I stared at Dad with a questioning look, not that I minded Libby coming, but it was weird that he would choose to include her in something like this. ‘How come?’

  ‘Because, I’m your friend,’ she said.

  Dad glanced back at me through his rear view mirror. I dropped my head and pretended to be interested in the iPad on Libby’s lap. She had her Facebook page open on a photograph of three boys standing with their tongues hanging out like the giraffes during feeding time at the zoo. Sometimes, I think that the zoo should have a cage for teenage boys.

  Blue, green, yellow, orange, and once again we were on the lowest level of the car park. I took a deep breath in preparation for the lift ride.

  We stepped out of the lift into the corridor of the ICU. Dad left us and went off in search of Dr Wong. I half expected that we might bump into the boy with the blond hair and the undone laces who was here yesterday.

  When Dad returned, he said, ‘Steph, stay here with Aunt Cass and Libby. I won’t be long.
’ I reached out and grabbed his arm.

  ‘No way, I want to see Mum’s doctor with you.’

  ‘Steph, please.’

  ‘Dad, you’re always telling me to grow up and take responsibility, but when it suits you, you treat me like a kid. I don’t want second-hand information; I want to hear what the doctor has to say. I’m coming with you.’

  Aunt Cass reached out and touched Dad’s arm. ‘She’s right, Glenn.’

  Dad’s face relaxed, making me think that he was giving in, but I was wrong. ‘No,’ he decided, and my body jolted. Usually, I’d stand and fight, but I chose to quietly back away. So not fair, I screamed at him in my head, and took off outside, with Libby following.

  I sat on a brick wall, watching the traffic with Libby beside me. She was dangling her legs, tapping the back of her shoes on the wall. ‘Sometimes parents just don’t get it,’ she explained.

  ‘Yeah, like most of the time. I can’t believe he didn’t let me go in with him. He’s always dragging me into the vet’s clinic, sharing stuff with me, stuff that most kids would never see. I was six when he showed me the guts of a Tasmanian Devil – there were worms in it. I still have nightmares.’

  Libby screwed up her face. ‘That’s sick.’

  ‘And when I should be included, I’m not.’

  A truck sped past, expelling a black cloud of pollution. ‘Maybe that’s your dad’s way of protecting you?’ she said, pulling the neck of her top over her nose.

  ‘That doesn’t make it fair.’

  After forty minutes of breathing in the fumes of the traffic, I had a full-blown headache. ‘We’d better go back,’ I said, pushing off the wall.

  Libby pointed to a man striding along the footpath towards us. ‘Hey, isn’t that your Dad?’

  ‘Yeah, it is.’ I stopped, and Libby kept walking.

  ‘I’ll meet you upstairs,’ she told me, leaving me with Dad.

  Dad scanned the surrounding buildings. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

  ‘The café is over there,’ I said, pointing, and we started walking across the road.

  The café was too noisy inside, so I chose a small table out of the sun, shaded by a tree. Dad came out and handed me a bottle of water. He placed his coffee on the table and proceeded to pour sugar into his mug. ‘Stop, Dad,’ I told him. ‘That’s enough.’ I leaned forward. ‘What did the doctor say?’

  Dad placed his elbow on the table, swept his hand over his face, and shook his head. ‘Dr Wong said that your mother has cardiomyopathy, but with the correct medication they should be able to keep it under control.’

  ‘Is Mum going to die?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and his eyes told me that he was telling the truth.

  ‘How do you get cardiomyopathy?’

  ‘Genetics, which they’ve ruled out because there’s no family history, or infections caused by bacteria, viruses or parasites. Some people make unhealthy lifestyle choices.’

  ‘But Mum’s a health freak,’ I said a bit too loudly, and noticed a woman turn around.

  Dad put his hand on mine, leaned forward and whispered, ‘Sometimes it’s just bad luck. Healthy people get sick. Sometimes a pre-existing condition, like your mother’s asthma, can mask the signs of something more serious, doing something out of the ordinary …’

  ‘Like snorkelling?’

  Dad nodded. ‘Yes, like snorkelling.’

  I bit my bottom lip. ‘Don’t do that,’ said Dad, frowning, and I stopped.

  ‘Have you spoken with Mum?’

  ‘No, not yet, but Dr Wong has. He stated that she took it well, she was calm, and went on to ask a lot of questions, which he answered in depth.’

  I sat up straight to take the weight off my heart. ‘That’s good,’ I said, nodding, knowing that the scientist in Mum would have kicked in. ‘So, we just have to wait to see if the medication works?’ Dad smiled, but his eyes remained serious.

  ‘Dad, I know you, you’re holding something back.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘I’ll call Dr Wong and ask him myself. If the medication doesn’t work … the doctors might consider …’

  I frowned. ‘Consider what?’

  ‘A heart transplant.’

  ‘Transplant?’

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

  The hospital was suffocating. I stopped short of the lift. ‘I’m not ready to see Mum,’ I told Dad.

  Dad’s hand squeezed my shoulder. ‘I’ll send Libby down.’

  Libby came out of the lift and threw her arms around me, and I cried. ‘Here,’ she said letting go, taking my hand, guiding me to a chair. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

  I nodded. ‘Yep, it is.’

  ‘But she’ll recover, right?’

  ‘Dad explained that they can give Mum medication, and if it doesn’t work she might need a heart transplant.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘How can this be happening to my mum?’

  Libby reached out and hugged me. ‘I read that if you have positive thoughts, it can help create a positive outcome.’ I grinned. Libby stared back at me. ‘What?’

  ‘Teen magazine?’ I asked, screwing up my face.

  Libby pouted.

  Chapter Five

  STANDING WITH MY nose close to the canvas, I took in the colours of ochre, yellow, and swirls of white mixed with black that created the movement of the sand being sucked back out to sea. I removed a hair with the tip of the brush, then stood back. The painting gripped my heart, pulling me back to the day at Palmy. Stop going back there, I told my brain, dropping the brush in the jar of turps, backing away from the canvas.

  It was impossible to be silent in our house. Everything that opened and shut creaked and so did all the floorboards. I held the knob on the attic door to lessen the noise as I closed it. Since Mum came home from the hospital, she’d spent most of the day sleeping. When I asked Dad if that was normal his eyes narrowed, but he said yes. He went on to say that sometimes medication can take weeks to take effect, but it was already the third week.

  I walked lightly towards Mum’s door; it was partly open. I stopped to see if she was awake. She was asleep, but her breathing was heavier than normal. I wrapped my arms around my body and kept on walking.

  Libby was lying on her stomach on my bed, knees bent backwards, tapping the heels of her new black leather lace-ups that enhanced her tiny ankles. She was reading Puberty Blues, again.

  ‘Libby, how can you read that junk when there are so many other books out there?’

  Libby rolled over on her back, relaxing the book on her chest. ‘Name one?’

  ‘Chenxi and the Foreigner.’

  She rolled back over on her stomach. ‘For your information, Steph, I’m halfway through that book. I like this book. It brings out the sexy side of me. We should try to get laid before the school year ends.’

  I snatched the towel off my bed, headed for the bathroom, and stopped. ‘You say the lamest stuff.’ Libby turned her head and crinkled her nose. ‘What makes you think that I’d remotely want to get laid?’ I asked, exasperated.

  ‘I think it would make you stronger.’

  I laughed. ‘Yeah, like don’t you mean pregnant?’

  Libby shrugged. ‘You can take precautions against getting pregnant.’

  ‘I wouldn’t sleep with anyone that I didn’t love.’

  Libby and I stood in front of Mum’s bedroom door. I reached out, placed my hand on the doorknob and closed it.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say goodbye?’ whispered Libby.

  ‘No, Dad said that she needs to rest.’

  Libby followed me into the kitchen. She picked up a note off the table and read it out loud.

  Steph, work called. They asked me to check in on Sally. I shouldn’t be too long. If I miss you, your lunch is in the fridge on the top shelf. Dad

  ‘Sally?’ asked Libby, handing me the note.

  ‘Sally the chimp, she’s pregnant, remember?’ I slipped a buttered p
iece of toast between my teeth, swept my backpack off the chair, and adjusted it on my back as I walked.

  ‘You’ll get chalky bones,’ Libby informed me. ‘You should start the day with a good breakfast.’

  I raised my perfectly plucked eyebrows at her. ‘Did you get that information from Puberty Blues?’

  ‘God, Steph,’ she said. Dismissing the question, she opened the door.

  The front gate creaked as it closed behind us. I glanced up at Mum’s bedroom window, but her curtains remained closed. I reached over our fence to snap a clump of daphne off the shrub and smelt it. The garden needed work, nothing had been touched for weeks.

  I handed the daphne to Libby. She poked the stem through the buttonhole of her crisp white shirt and smelt it. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  I was on the school bus waiting behind Libby to tap my card when Dad called. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Sally had a girl.’

  The hair on my arms tingled. ‘Wow, that’s amazing. How gorgeous is she?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call her gorgeous, she’s wrinkled, but healthy.’

  ‘Can I call her Lucy, like you promised?’

  ‘Only if you agree to be her sponsor. Do we have a deal?’ I was already sponsoring an orangutan, a goat and an elephant. I called the orangutan Ruben, after grandad Conner.

  ‘It’s a deal. I’ll pop into the zoo after school.’

  ‘You and your silly animals,’ Libby groaned. ‘I hardly see you on weekends as it is, and you never spend money on yourself.’

  ‘I do too.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I buy paints and brushes.’

  ‘You can’t wear paint, Steph. You could do with some new stuff.’

  ‘Maybe I could put in for another shift at the zoo?’ I said, not joking.

  Libby stared at me coldly and reached for her iPad. ‘Has anyone told you that you’re exhausting?’

  ‘No,’ I lied.

  As I stood to disembark, a boy came from the back of the bus and stood in the aisle beside my seat. I glanced at his unlaced boots.