Facing the Sun, page 15
Gradually the sobs ease while a gentle softness blankets me, the despair slipping away to the dark place from which it had sprung and replaced by clarity and some embarrassment for my lack of self-control. I pick up the phone to text Sandro: Of course that was a bad idea darling. Just feeling for you. Keep me in touch when you have time.
* * *
The Caretakers pay a short visit to Josh and Bridey unbeknownst to Molly who is sulking in her room with earphones on. Flagran sits with Josh, flinging an arm across his shoulders while Torrenclar pulls Bridey into his lap. She leans back into him, a tiny child resting safely against his chest while his arms hold her secure.
“So, guys! More trouble in front of you?” Flagran’s words hold a note of concern for them whilst sounding quite matter of fact. “Don’t let it come between you, eh!” Bridey flushes, glad Torrenclar is behind her, while Josh sits rigid under the Caretaker’s arm. “How can we help?”
“You can tell me what to do with Molly,” Bridey offers, with distinct belligerent notes in her voice, “because I’m taking a real dislike to her, and she’s Sandro’s sister. I can’t stand selfish people who only think of themselves when something goes wrong. What is wrong with her?”
“She’s fifteen.” Torrenclar murmurs this into her ear, smiling. “It’s her birthday tomorrow. At this moment, she probably hates her brother for taking up space, and she definitely thinks Josh should be treating her particularly well. Her plans for tomorrow would be along the lines of ‘we can do anything we like tomorrow, because now the age gap doesn’t matter anymore.’ ” What do you think Josh? Hang around, and you might have a good day!”
Disgusted, Bridey swings out from under his arms and turns to face him. “You can’t be serious. She’s a spoilt baby. Josh doesn’t need someone like that. She’d drive him crazy.”
Josh glares. “Where do you get off…?” But Flagran interrupts him.
“Don’t let Molly come between you, you two. Josh,” the arm grips him like steel restraints, and he wriggles angrily against it, “Torrenclar was making a joke…not a funny one, but it wasn’t meant seriously.”
Josh gives up the struggle because his bicep is becoming painful. “Bridey. Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mother. And,” he adds thoughtfully, “There’s no way I’d listen to you if you were. She was about fifteen when she got pregnant with me.” His eyes take on a thoughtful, faraway look. “What a mess that was!” Flagran’s grip changes in quality, and Josh leans into it for a moment. “Where’s her Mum, anyway? We can’t look after her for her birthday.”
“Yeah. And, I need to be heading back to Melbourne. I’ve got a presentation to do on Wednesday, and I need to get settled in at home; find my notes and tidy them up. This is my Masters. It’s important.” Bridey brushes her hair away from her face and shakes it back again, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table. She sits up again, abruptly. “Oh God, Josh, I forgot. Sandro asked me to tell you to ring Jarrod. The magistrate wants to have a word with you soon. Jarrod said he told this guy you would follow up on the work you’re supposed to be writing for him.”
“I did a bit this afternoon before Molly came and interrupted me. Hope he doesn’t expect it to be too long; or too soon.”
“You could do with getting home, both of you. Sandro’s holding back, but they can cope with what they have in front of them without you two messing up your lives. The first thing to do is to contact Marra. My suggestion is that you ask Gabriella to pick you up from the airport and eat with her somewhere so you can keep her in the loop. She’s lonely.” The Caretaker has pulled Bridey gently back against his chest and is using his breathing against her back to calm and settle her. She begins to experience urges to pull her legs up and curl into him which she resists.
“How can we find Marra? Why isn’t she answering her phone? Is everything alright?” She can feel herself tensing against the urge to relax, but Torrenclar holds her firmly and speaks gently against her face.
“How about trying the private hospitals?” When she pulls against him to take up the idea, he resists. “Ten minutes will not make that much difference to the outcomes, and you are giving Marra some badly needed breathing space. Rushing off to do, while in a crisis, can send you in the wrong direction. Tune into my spirit. Much as I am enjoying holding you like this, it is not as much for my sake as it for yours. I want you to remember this moment between us and seek out the peace available to you in the days ahead. You will function more smoothly, think more clearly and be of more assistance to those around you.” Bridey relaxes, deliberately taking in the warmth of his chest and the firm hold of his arms around hers.
Watching with curiosity, Josh turned to Flagran, “Why aren’t you doing that to me?”
“Because I’m not as good at it as he is, and you’re not as open as she is.” He holds out his arms to the young man who hesitates, then pushes his seat closer to Flagran’s and sits on it sideways leaning back tentatively until he feels the chest against his back. Flagran breathes warm air into the back of his head stirring the brown hair while Josh gives an involuntary shiver. “Shall I turn up the heat?” The wicked grin is lost to Josh, but he murmurs, “Don’t you dare. You just keep doing what you’re doing!” Surprising himself, he begins to relax into the strong hold of the muscled arms experiencing the spreading warmth from his bum against Flagran’s thighs, up and over hips, lower back, lower ribs, shoulders and upper spine which begins to express its pleasure in loud cracks, until it reaches the myriad tiny muscles encircling his scalp. He groans deeply, and eventually accepts it when the Caretaker kisses the top of his head several times.
“How can the Source give Adam brain cancer?” he asks, soft as a bird unwilling to be noticed. “How can these things keep happening?” No-one responds because there is no answer to give. It is the way of things in the world, and Josh, of all people, knows that in his bones. Torrenclar lays his face on the top of Bridey’s head, then against her face which he kisses tenderly before pulling her closer.
There comes a time when it’s over. Restlessness enters the tableau. Bridey drags herself away to locate her phone and begin ringing hospitals. Josh decides to have a chat with Molly, and the two Caretakers disappear leaving them to it.
* * *
It makes sense that Gugunya would have been taken to the Women’s and Children’s Hospital which is public and has a distinct Aboriginal liaison service, so I ring there even though Torrenclar seems to have offered a clue leading in another direction. This turns out to be abortive. Knowing nothing about health services in Adelaide, it takes another few minutes to discover Marra has had them take her mother to a private hospital in the centre of Adelaide not far from where her son is now undergoing investigations about which she is completely unaware. It seems that this private hospital has a good range of orthopaedic services and is quieter and more accessible in a hurry. Perhaps there is slightly less wait if someone has private health insurance, and since Gugunya has been ill for over three decades she would know where she could tolerate hospitalization; or perhaps it might mean shorter wait times or better rehab. Who knows? I book myself and Josh flights back to Melbourne for Saturday when all of me wants to stay. Josh and Jarrod have a chat, and apparently the magistrate has set aside time for a private interview (to his horror) with Josh next Thursday; the same day as my presentation. This means he needs to go home now and focus on his reflections. When this is set in place, without consulting Sandro, I take the car and go to break the news to Marra in person. I fish around for a charger for Marra’s phone and pack her some more clothes remembering how uncomfortable long waits in hospitals can be. Taking a deep breath, I grab one or two necessaries for Sohrab at the same time. Neither will want to leave their son. Just before heading out the door, I run back to grab the same for Sandro. Sticking my head into Molly’s room is a mistake as she immediately begins to insist she be taken to the hospital, but I am determined. I haven’t lived with Elaine all of my life without learning how to resist manipulation. Shutting the door, I overhear Josh deliver some clear messages and silently thanks him.
As the car makes its way back into the city, longing and excitement wash over me when I think of asking Gabriella to pick us up at the airport, accompanied by a dash of disappointment at the promise of the Melbourne cold. At least Sandro has made the house more habitable; the heater is effective, and I have cleaned and tidied before leaving. Thinking of these things takes my mind off the immediate nasty task ahead.
The car park is huge and expensive. Waves of unwelcome memories of Sandro in hospital flood back when I begin to navigate my way through the hospital’s corridors, dread being my primary emotion. Who wants to tell a mother that her son has serious brain tumours? The corridors are attractive and clean, each room running off it, wider and more spacious than the Royal Melbourne’s older labyrinth. Anyone scared of hospitals would still experience it as an institution where you were likely to be overridden by important people with busy schedules and little tolerance for, or understanding of, an old woman’s way of handling her illness, but this one at least feels different. I imagine Marra and Jack paying for their mother’s health insurance so she would get the best possible treatment, rather than criticising her lifestyle choices. The two are beautiful people whose attitude to life and to others is inspiring. Studying anthropology has opened my eyes to the way humans develop and relate to each other, but being part of this family is an enormous blessing on my otherwise fairly isolated life, and the reality of the struggle and clash of cultures is constantly being brought home to me. Part of me wants to stay around, settle into a lifestyle where you are always welcome, and there is much to learn about being human; so much I have missed in my own limited and isolated family life full of self-centred concerns and constant judgements about others. I jump, realising I’ve continued to wander through the hospital, swept right past Reception and now have no idea where to head to find Marra. Retracing my steps, I discover the hospital has been laid out in a pattern which makes it easy to return to Reception. A sudden realisation hits me. Gugunya is the patient. How can I ask for someone whose name I don’t know? Also, even if it had been helpful, I have no idea what Marra’s surname is. The only way I knows they are even here is because I’d asked if there was any possibility that an aboriginal woman from the outback of Birdsville had been admitted after being brought in by air ambulance with possible complications from diabetes. With no idea how this would go down, all I can do is to ask if there’s any way I can speak to the woman’s daughter as there is a medical emergency, and she has been out of phone contact all day.
Delighted with the response I receive, my heart sinks as I listen to this being relayed to the nurses on the ward. When asked, I give my name telling them to just say ‘Bridey’ as the McLeary part would be confusing. It appears that Marra is uncertain whether this relates to her work, friends or family and is attempting to sus this out through several third persons. “Can you please just ask her if she can come to Reception and speak with Bridey, her stepson’s girlfriend?” If staff on Reception are thrown by any of this they don’t let it show. Must happen all the time, I think, my fear rising as I wait for Marra to appear.
“Bridey!” the voice comes from behind sounding strained and tired.
“Hi,” I say lamely. “Is it alright if we go sit somewhere?” The face in front of me tightens.
“My phone’s gone dead. What’s wrong? Is it Sohrab? Molly? Where’s Sandro?”
Steering her across the lobby to chairs near the front entrance, I don’t answer until Marra sits down. “They’re all okay,” at the relief on the face in front of me, a stab of dismay catches in my chest. “It’s Adam. He’s unwell.” At least that prevents her jumping to the conclusion he’s dead or something. This is the first time I’ve ever had to impart bad news, and my legs are trembling.
Instead of asking what’s wrong she says, “Where is he?”
“We were out this afternoon for lunch, and Sandro started asking him about his avoiding reading the menu and stuff like that.”
Marra’s face hardens. “He does that. He just can’t be bothered thinking about what to eat. Leaves it for everyone else to think for him.” It sounds like she’s thinking is that all? I can deal with that. But it wouldn’t seem enough for me to have gone to all this trouble to find her and interrupt her time with her mother in this strange way. Keeping her face blank, she waits.
“So Sandro asked him if he was having trouble with his eyesight and stuff.” There’s no other choice but to keep going with this. “He told us it’d been getting worse. He’s been having headaches.” Tears spring unbidden into Marra’s eyes, and I have to push on ignoring them to get it all out. “He’s also been having trouble with his legs.”
The nurse experiences the shock of recognition. “Where is he?” she repeats, “I need to be with my mother. But we can get it seen to.” The words tumble out. “Tell me what’s going on!”
“We rang Sohrab at work, and we met him at the Royal Adelaide Emergency. It’s been going on for a couple of months and getting worse.” I sound like I’m justifying myself because all of a sudden it sounds to me like gross interference on our part. My face screws up as I appeal to Marra for her understanding. “He’s had an MRI. We couldn’t find you. Or Jack. Molly’s at home.”
“Brain tumour?”
I nod. “Two. One on his brain stem and the other…”
“Behind his eye.”
“I’ve brought you some stuff. Phone charger. Clothes. Just in case.”
“I’ll talk to Mum first while we plug my phone in. Come up and meet her. We have to find Jack so he can…” It is like a fog has come down over her, and her thinking scrambles. “I’ll ask the staff here to contact the Women’s and Children’s to arrange some aboriginal liaison for her. That’s what I’ll do. Oh God. She’s having toes amputated tomorrow. We have to find Jack.”
Nine
Well, at least Dad is sitting close to me. That’s a first for a long while. And, he isn’t angry, or criticising Adam decides he should make the most of it; enjoy it while it lasts. He does seem scared though which makes things awkward, and the conversation consists of constant, “How are you going?” and “You feeling alright?” These are peppered with “It is going to be okay, you know.” Every so often he takes out his phone and checks it for news of Mum. It isn’t unusual for her to go missing, because that’s the nature of her work, but this afternoon it just isn’t convenient. Probably, when he gets in touch with her, he’ll let off some steam by telling her off. Him and Molly hate it when Baba gets anxious because it usually means he’ll take it out on her. At least Sandro is here. Maybe, he won’t play up in front of him. He’s been really cold to all of them since he’s come back; not the usual cuddles and kisses and poking fun at them. But right now, he keeps putting his hand on his youngest son’s leg, and then reaching out to pat the older one on the shoulder. He keeps saying, “Thank you, son. Thank you, son. We’ll be alright now.” And nodding as though he’s going a bit off his head, like the man who sits in the bus stop all day talking to himself about finances and competition and stuff.
Sandro is sitting quietly, thinking, texting backwards and forwards to Bridey and his Mum, smiling at them sometimes and occasionally getting up to walk around the room. They are in an area of the ED called Short Stay, and they can’t leave to go get coffee or anything because someone might come back with news about what is going to happen to him, and no one wants to miss anything. Sometimes, the nurse comes and takes his temperature and checks his pulse. He keeps wanting to say that it’s useless because he isn’t sick like that. He is feeling very sick though, for two reasons. One is he’s shitting himself about having operations and cancer stuff, and the other is he’s ravenously hungry, but they won’t let him eat in case they want to operate today. At least they speak to him. Every time Dad tries to take them outside when news comes, the doctors say, “No. This is about Adam. He needs to know what’s going one. He’s the one making the decisions.” And, when Dad tries to enlist Sandro to find out secret stuff, his brother shakes his head and smiles and says, “Don’t worry Dad. He’s going to have to know it all, isn’t he? It’s his body.” Sandro’s phone buzzes. “It’s Bridey. Marra’s here.”
Sandro goes out so that his Mum will be allowed in, which is a shame. It’s really good having him around. He doesn’t want to face his Mum, but he desperately wants to see her. The look on her face when she comes in makes him cry for the first time, and when she squats down in front of his chair, he squirms because, if she doesn’t back off, he’s going to lose it, right here in the hospital.
“I’m so sorry Adam. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’ve been caught up in work and everything, I didn’t realise.” That’s it. The tears won’t stop, and the nurse, or worse, the doctors will come in and think he’s a sook. She pulls out tissues for them both and stands holding his head against her belly until his shoulders stop shaking. When he looks up, his mother and father are staring at each other, and he can’t tell what they’re saying, but it isn’t angry. “Have you heard anything more, Sohrab? Are they doing anything yet?”
Baba stands up and folds his arms around her, and this makes Adam cry again. His shakes his head violently, and then remembers he has brain cancer, so he stops. “The doctors want to operate quickly before his eyesight deteriorates further, but they’ve determined to discover the surgeon’s plans.” His Dad speaks good English most of the time, but every now and then he uses funny words. “We will get him the best Marra. We will go anywhere.” She nods. “How is Gugunya?”
His Mum shrugs. And he thinks, she’s over all this, and now I’ve gone and made more trouble for her. Every time he’d thought of telling his Mum how bad he was feeling, or how worried he was getting, all he could think of was that she had plenty of worries already, so he’d deal with this himself. Now he might lose his eyesight because he’d been so stupid.
