“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I’ve learnt my lesson. I won’t do it again.” He put a picture of the three of us on the bedside table. “See how happy we once were?”
“You keep them away,” I said, flicking the frame over, cracking the glass. “You keep away too. I want to see my daughter. Only my daughter.”
“Now don’t be like that …”
“I need to think.”
“You’re not in a state to think,” Raj said. “You’re imagining things. I’m your husband. I need to think for you.”
Idiot. As if I want him to think for me.
I fixed him with the gaze I was perfecting. It certainly made the nurse’s squirm.
“I want to see Sanusha.”
Raj nodded. I could see he was angry but for once he kept it all in.
“I’ll bring her tonight.”
“Thank you. Now go and tell that head shrinker the hospital keeps on sending round not to bother. I won’t talk to him.”
That night Sanusha sat on the edge of my bed reading to me. She looked away from the story for a moment and asked, “Why won’t you let Appa come?”
“Appa and I are having a little disagreement.”
“A fight?”
“If you want to call it that.”
“He’s sad. He told me to tell you he was very sorry.”
So, Rajit’s emissary. Without the aid of any monitors, I knew my blood pressure was rising.
Is she watching me too? What did she tell Rajit?
An uncomfortable knot was forming in my stomach. I bit down hard on my lip and fell back into the sheets.
“You’re bleeding, Mom.”
“What?”
“Your mouth is bleeding.”
I wiped the scarlet onto my palm. “It’s nothing.”
“Blood has platelets and plasma,” Sanusha said. “If your body runs out of blood, you die.”
“I’m not running out of blood.”
“An adult body has five litres of blood.”
Yes, and if I can slit my wrists properly this time, I might get rid of enough of it. Get her out of here – she’s driving me nuts.
“Mom’s tired,” I said forcing a smile. “I think you need to run back to Appa.”
“But I want to sleep with you tonight,” Sanusha whined.
“This is a hospital, for God’s sake, not a slumber party. Go home with Appa. Mom’s exhausted.”
“Thea?” A voice at the door.
Annie. Thank God.
“Can I come in?”
Sanusha ran over to my friend. “Mom’s very cross, Auntie Annie.”
“Mom’s sick, darling.”
“She won’t talk to Appa and she wants me to go home.”
Annie looked at me. Her face was flushed – she’d been in the sun. Normally, Annie looked like a paler version of the lead singer of Roxette – her hair was cropped short because she was still playing so much sport. But she had no curves whatsoever. Flat as a diving board – no hips, no breasts, no bum.
“What are you staring at?” Annie asked after a pause. “Do I have spinach in my teeth?”
“I don’t like spinach,” Sanusha informed her. “It tastes like grass.”
“And when was the last time you ate grass?” Annie said, picking her up. “Are you a cow?”
Sanusha giggled. “Cows have four stomachs,” she told her.
“Well, I have an extra stomach just for pudding. Even if I eat all my food, I always have space for lemon meringue.”
They were making my head buzz.
What are they talking about? Why don’t they just go away?
Annie cuddled Sanusha. How could she be so angular and still give my daughter these hugs she could sink into?
“Did you check?” I murmured.
Annie put Sanusha down. “Listen, darling girl. Go and ask your dad to get Mom a cup of coffee. Okay?”
“Did you check?” I said a little louder as soon as Sanusha was out the room.
Annie moved closer, sat on the bed and patted my hand. “There was no one, T. I walked up and down. I even checked the bathrooms.”
At least someone is listening.
I nodded. “Visiting times are the worst. They masquerade as family.”
“I can imagine. But think about it, T. They don’t need to be here if Raj is already in the hospital.”
I beckoned Annie closer, and put my mouth to her ear. “I think he’s got to Sanusha. She’s asking me all these questions. Telling me stuff,” I said to her. “Do you think I’m right?”
Annie looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face, then she picked up my brush. With long, sweeping strokes she tidied up the matted nest about my face. “No, Thea. I don’t think so. She seems just the same to me.”
“She’s not his spy?”
“Sanusha is your daughter. She loves you. She wants you home so you can make pancakes and take her to the park.” Annie turned my head slightly, clipping some strands behind my ear. “Listen to me, T. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
She cupped my chin in her hand. “Repeat after me: ‘I do not have to worry about Sanusha.’”
It felt weird, but I said it.
“Sanusha is my beautiful daughter, and she will always care for me,” said Annie
“Sanusha is my beautiful daughter, and she will always care for me.”
“I am just having a hard time and she is worried about me.”
“I am just having a hard time and she is worried about me,” I repeated.
Annie smiled. She’d had corrective surgery and no longer wore her glasses. They used to hide the colour of her turquoise eyes, but now they were her best feature. They twinkled, and I felt the tension begin to ease out of me. But then I remembered.
“And what about Clay? Did he get to him?” I said.
“Who the hell is Clay?”
“The guy from the coffee shop. He’s visited a few times.”
“Really?” Annie’s eyes glinted.
“He brings me muffins. He bought me a jersey once. I like him.”
Annie looked at me and I could see she didn’t think this was a good idea at all. “Listen, Thea, I don’t know the guy. But what I can say is that your life is complex enough at the moment.”
“I like the way he looks. He has this silver hair. He smiles in his eyes. Like you.”
Annie linked her hand through mine and changed the subject. “Have you read that mag yet? D’you need another one? What about some more hand cream?”
“I’m not feeling good, Annie. I have these headaches –”
“You’ll