Room: A Novel

“If I could do it for you, I would.”

“Why can’t you?”

She’s shaking her head. “I’m so sorry it has to be you and it has to be now. But I’ll be there in your head, remember? I’ll be talking to you every minute.”

We go over Plan B lots more times. “What if he opens Rug?” I ask. “Just to look at me dead?” Ma doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You know how hitting is bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, tonight is a special case. I really don’t think he will, he’ll be in a hurry to, to get the whole thing over with, but if by any chance — what you do is, hit him as hard as you can.”

Wow.

“Kick him, bite him, poke him in the eyes—” Her fingers stab the air. “Anything at all so you can get away.” I can’t believe this hardly. “Am I allowed kill him even?”

Ma runs over to Cabinet where the things dry after washing up. She picks up Smooth Knife.

I look at his shine, I think about the story of Ma putting him on Old Nick’s throat.

“Do you think you could hold this tight, inside the rug, and if —” She stares at Smooth Knife. Then she puts him back with the forks on Dish Rack. “What was I thinking?”

How would I know if she doesn’t?

“You’ll stab yourself,” says Ma.

“No I won’t.”

“You will, Jack, how could you not, you’ll cut yourself to ribbons, lashing around inside a rug with a bare blade — I think I’m losing my mind.” I shake my head. “It’s right here.” I tap on her hair.

Ma strokes my back.

I check Tooth is in my sock, the note is in my underwear at the front. We sing to make the time go, but quietly. “Lose Yourself” and “Tubthumping” and “Home on the Range.”

“ ‘Where the deer and the antelope play—,’ ” I sing.

“ ‘Where seldom is heard a discouraging word—’ ”

“ ‘And the skies are not cloudy all day.’ ”

“It’s time,” says Ma, holding Rug open.

I don’t want to. I lie down and put my hands on my shoulders and my elbows sticking out. I wait for Ma to roll me up.

Instead she just looks at me. My feet my legs my arms my head, her eyes keep sliding over my whole me like she’s counting.

“What?” I say.

She doesn’t say a word. She leans over, she doesn’t even kiss me, she just touches her face to mine till I can’t tell whose is whose. My chest is going dangadangadang. I won’t let go of her.

“OK,” says Ma, her voice all scratchy. “We’re scave, aren’t we? We’re totally scave. See you outside.” She puts my arms the special way with my elbows sticking out. She folds Rug over me and the light’s gone.

I’m rolled up in the itchy dark.

“Not too tight?”

I try if I can get my arms up above my head and back, scraping a bit.

“OK?”

“OK,” I say.

Then we just wait. Something comes in the top of Rug and rubs my hair, it’s her hand, I know without seeing even. I can hear my breathing that’s noisy. I think about the Count in the bag with the worms crawling in. The fall down down down crash into the sea. Can worms swim?

Dead, Truck, Run, Somebody—no, Wriggle Out, then Jump, Run, Somebody, Note, Blowtorch. I forgot Police before Blowtorch, it’s too complicated, I’m going to mess it all up and Old Nick will bury me for real and Ma will be waiting always.

After a long while I whisper, “Is he coming or no?”

“I don’t know,” says Ma. “How could he not? If he’s the least bit human. .”

I thought humans were or weren’t, I didn’t know someone could be a bit human. Then what are his other bits?

I wait and wait. I can’t feel my arms. Rug’s lying against my nose, I want to scratch. I try and try and I reach it. “Ma?” “Right here.”

“Me too.”

Beep beep.

I jump, I’m supposed to be dead but I can’t help it, I want to get out of Rug right now but I’m stuck and I can’t even try or he’ll see — Something pressing on me, that must be Ma’s hand. She needs me to be Super Prince JackerJack, so I stay extra still. No more moving, I’m Corpse, I’m the Count, no, I’m his friend even deader, I’m all stiff like a broken robot with a power cut.

“Here you go.” That’s Old Nick’s voice. He sounds like always. He doesn’t even know what’s happened about me dying. “Antibiotics, only just past the sell-by. For a kid you break them in half, the guy said.”

Ma doesn’t answer.

“Where is he, in the wardrobe?”

That’s me, the he.

“Is he in the rug? Are you crazy, wrapping a sick kid up like that?”

“You didn’t come back,” Ma says and her voice is really weird. “He got worse in the night and this morning he wouldn’t wake up.” Nothing. Then Old Nick makes a funny sound. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Ma shrieks it, but I don’t move, I don’t move, I’m all stiff no hearing no seeing no nothing.

“Ah, no.” I hear his breath all long. “That’s just terrible. You poor girl, you—”

Nobody says anything for a minute.

“Guess it must have been something really serious,” says Old Nick, “the pills wouldn’t have worked anyway.” “You killed him.” Ma’s howling.

“Come on now, calm down.”

“How can I calm down when Jack’s—” She’s breathing strange, her words come out like gulping. She’s pretending so really I nearly believe it.

“Let me.” His voice is very near, I go tight and stiff stiff stiff.

“Don’t touch him.”

“OK, OK.” Then Old Nick says, “You can’t keep him here.”

“My baby!”

“I know, it’s a terrible thing. But I’ve got to take him away now.”

“No.”

“How long’s it been?” he asks. “This morning, you said? Maybe in the night? He must be starting to — it’s not healthy, keeping him here. I better take him and, and find a place.”

“Not in the backyard.” Ma’s talking is nearly a growl.

“OK.”

“If you put him in the backyard — You never should have done that, it’s too close. If you bury him there I’ll hear him crying.” “I said OK.”

“You have to drive him a long way away, all right?”

“All right. Let me—”

“Not yet.” She’s crying and crying. “You mustn’t disturb him.”

“I’ll keep him all wrapped up.”

“Don’t you dare lay a finger—”

“All right.”

“Swear you won’t even look at him with your filthy eyes.”

“OK.”

“Swear.”

“I swear, OK?”