XVII | Something To Hide
❦
Tammie peels open
that soggy
piece of paper.
There’ll be
new writing
on it.
A warning
from the nurses.
In messy pencil marks,
a hanged man swings
with a cheshire cat’s smile
and a speech bubble floating over his head:
HA HA HA.
The blanks
are filled with my handwriting:
S U B S T I T U T E.
Exactly
how
we left it before.
‘How strange…’
Tammie’s grey eyes
meet mine with a question.
What will you do now?
I shrug.
‘Sleep.
‘There’s nothing else to do.’
We can steal
another plastic knife.
Tammie follows me
to my bedroom
even though I tell her
I really want to sleep.
She sits at
one end of the bed
and wraps my blanket
around her.
I switch off the light
and take the blanket from her.
‘Seriously,
‘go going to sleep.’
I can’t sleep,
Tammie says.
Talk to me.
Play with me.
Hey Fifi,
let’s do something.
‘No,’ I reply,
pushing her to the edge of the bed
with my toes.
She falls off the bed
with a loud thump.
There’s also a crack.
I raise my head to
make sure
she’s okay.
She’s already standing up,
grey eyes
glittering in the dark.
She flicks black hair
out of her eyes.
Stands up.
Fine.
Let me put you to bed.
I’ll be the mum.
I don’t have time
to protest.
Her face comes close to mine
and I’m holding my breath
to keep the bile down.
Her lips are soft
when she kisses me
on the cheek.
Good night, Fiona.
Her thin hands
stroke hair from my forehead
and she smiles
a sleepy, apologetic smile.
I breathe in
the scent of her,
my eyes
transfixed
on the dark figure looming over me,
stroking my head.
Suddenly,
she’s gone
and I realise
my heart’s
beating faster.
She left the door open
so light from the sitting area
shines
like a torch
into my room.
I hear muffled shuffling, doors closing.
Otherwise,
quiet.
Even with eyes squeezed shut,
I take a while
to fall asleep.
❦
During morning medicine time,
I repeat the antics of
the night before,
hiding the two new pills I’ve obtained
in a crumpled tissue.
I’m bidding my time.
I watch the nurses
closely
every medicine time
when they take out their cards,
put them back inside,
what else they have in their pockets.
By the time
I’ve accumulated
a handful of pills,
I’ve figured out that the nurses
must be instructed to carry
almost nothing with them
when they come into the asylum.
There’s a button
attached to their belts
which allows them to communicate
with other nurses
(and raise the alarm I suppose)
and other miscellaneous items
tucked in various places:
Scraps of paper,
a pencil and pen,
a phone.
(I know because I asked Mason’s nurse for a pen
in the dining room and he took it out of his vest.)
They carry no weapons.
The few days
I spend staring at the nurses,
Tammie spends
staring at me.
She doesn’t ask questions.
at least,
I don’t remember
hearing any.
Hiding the pills in tissue paper
has become
cumbersome
and suspicious now
so I remove the ink tube
from the pen (given by Mason’s nurse)
and hid
most of the pills
there.
One random night,
Tammie follows me into my room
like before.
‘Are you going to sleep with me tonight?’
I ask.
Do you want me to?
She sits at the edge of the bed,
playing with
a corner of my blanket.
No. Not really.
She smiles apologetically.
Then let me tuck you into bed.
She sings a lullaby
(Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?
Baa Baa Black Sheep?)
and strokes my hair
with her thin fingers.
My heart’s
beating fast
in the dark
like I’ve done something wrong.
(I haven’t.)
(Not yet.)
Tammie leans over,
her smell enveloping me
overwhelming,
like gas in a locked chamber
and her lips
touch my cheek.
Good night, Fifi.
❦
