That Elusive Cure 36

As I walked up to Sally’s house and heard shrieks of laughter, I couldn’t help but think, just for one moment, that maybe Wendy had done the right thing putting Sally away. Then the betrayal of my thoughts took over. Sally was locked away, and it was all her sister’s fault.

The doorbell echoed through the house, and I stood back from the house, enjoying the early morning sunshine on my face. The door opened and Peter and Lucy barrelled out at me.

“Auntie Kathy!” Peter shrieked. Even Lucy let out a giggle. The pair of them clung to me like limpets. Behind them, Wendy waited just inside the house.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked.

I nodded. “Just need to manhandle these two in.” The three of us waddled inside the house. I shook them off onto the floor where they lay in a giggling heap for a second before jumping up and bolting out the backdoor and into the garden.

“Such a difference in them.” I had to say it. It was like entirely different kids were in the house.

Wendy acknowledged my words with a slight smile. What if I’d given her ammunition against her sister: Even your best friend thinks you do a rubbish job raising your kids. Is that what she’d say?

“Would you like a drink? The kettle just boiled.”

I glanced at the door, before turning back to Wendy. “That would be lovely. Any news?”

“Nothing to get your hopes up yet.”

I followed Wendy to the kitchen and leaned against a countertop while she busied herself making tea.

“She’s still not allowed phone calls, but you can send a letter. I had the kids send in drawings.”

I was supposed to hate Wendy, like a mutual hate pact or something. Sally hated her, so I should hate her. But somehow I couldn’t help but warm to this silver-haired version of my best friend.

“Do you reckon they check the letters? You know, before they hand them over.”

Wendy shrugged. “Would make sense, I guess.” She gave the teapot a stir before deciding it ready. “Why, are you planning on writing something that might upset her?”

“No…” I thought of how insane the pod would sound on paper. “Just need to word things in a way that they let it through, that’s all.”

Wendy loaded up a tray and went through to the living room. She poured my tea and topped up the cup with a drop of milk. I didn’t even know Sally had china like this. Maybe Wendy brought her own from home? There was a couple who came to the husband’s chemo sessions at Clatterbridge with a thermos of tea, which wasn’t so unusual, but also their own china cups. Made me smile every time I saw them. It was a comfort thing, and maybe this was Wendy’s way of easing a difficult situation.

“I’ve been keeping Sally updated on the situation with the children. I go and drop the letters off by hand and according to the nurse they’ve been going through.”

The hospital was nearly an hour’s drive away. That was some commitment, taking them by hand.

Wendy sipped at her tea and I realised just how polar this was to my typical visits to this house. Normally Sal and I used giant mugs, and ate sticky cakes and laughed constantly at each other’s silliness. It was all too serious for me. I finished my tea, said my thanks and went out to the garden to see the kids.

Peter and Lucy were playing on a trampoline I’d never seen before, the breathy squeaks of the springs in perfect sync with the kids’ laughter.  

“See you guys later,” I called out and was rewarded with the pair of them shouting out goodbyes. Even Lucy was talking. Damn, this was going to be hard on them when Sally came back. I was sure they missed their mother, and I almost hated seeing them this happy. It kind of reinforced how bad a job of motherhood Sal was doing.

I got home and took a pad of paper from a cupboard. Staring at the blank page wasn’t making my thoughts any less confused, I got up and made a cup of tea – a proper cup of tea using the biggest mug in the cabinet. I raised the cup to Sal before taking the first sip. Where was she now? Locked up in her room? Wondering around a common area? I’d never been to a psych ward. Sal had never wanted to talk about her visits once she was home, so I only had movies and TV programmes to base my ideas of the ward. Were there metal grates separating the staff from the patients? Lots of locked doors and screwed down chairs and tables?

Getting my thoughts in order finally, I started my letter.   

Hey Sally,

It’s all gone to shit. Found out my dad’s got prostate cancer. It’s this tiny little tumour, really early stages. The docs should cut it out and hopefully that’ll be the end of it. The shittiest part is I can’t explain to you why this is so bad and why I’m not entirely happy that my lungs came up clear in the last scan. Yes, you read right. Plus, I’ve only got two tumours in my liver, and yet I’m not jumping for joy. There’s big things going on in my life and if I told anyone I’d end up in there with you in the next bed. Jesus. It’s all fucked up.

I’ll tell you this. Got this new scanner. It’s so accurate that I’m afraid to let my mum go in it because I’m terrified of what they’ll find. Me, I’m a walking poster child for ignoring symptoms. I should be shouting at people to get the scan. The sooner you know, the better the chances, and yet it’s all bullshit.

God, I’m so depressing. Don’t listen to me. Maybe it’s better the nurses read this before they hand it to you and give it the burning treatment it deserves.

Saw your kids today. Wendy’s doing a good job with them. They miss you so much, though. Get better for them and come home soon. Hell, I need you. You and me have some serious shit to talk about and I need you here.

I’m not making any sense here, so I’m going to stop while I’m way behind. Get better. I need you.

Kath xxx

That would have to do. I sealed it in an envelope, and decided I needed some time to clear my head. I’d hand deliver the letter like Wendy did. Maybe I could find out some information about Sal while I was there. Hell, I was practically family; I deserved to know how she was.

I dipped into the garage where Jimmy was working on an old shelving project. “I’m going to drop this off for Sally.” I waved the letter in the air.

Jimmy grunted at me. He was obviously still miffed at me for letting my dad do the fix on the machine. Grow up, I thought, it’s not all about you.

“See you later,” I said when it was obvious he wasn’t going to talk to me.

I walked down the driveway and got in the car, hoping I’d find Jimmy at the window, knocking on the glass for me to open up and give him a kiss, but he stayed hidden in the garage. Jesus, life’s too short for this. But that didn’t stop me putting the car in gear and driving off.