I actually liked Nina most. Now don’t be offended. It’s simply the truth, and you were the ones who asked. I wished I could have had a daughter like her. Nina was ordinary in a pleasant way and seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, while the rest of you . . . especially you, Shlomith, and also you, Polina. You two are so full of yourselves. The way you talk, and you talk a lot, tells me you consider yourselves better than other people. You seem to think you have special rights. To tell the truth, Shlomith, your thinness disgusts me. I can’t approve of the way you’ve intentionally put yourself in that condition. You, Polina, love the sound of your own voice far too much. I’m sorry, but no one can stand listening to you! Back when my voice worked, I only spoke as much as necessary. I think that’s a good baseline. You shouldn’t overburden people. It isn’t polite. And then the rest of you. Ulrike: I have to admit you irritate me. You’re impertinent. No, let me continue! I know full well that you’re still sorry for that stray thought of yours. I forgive you. Don’t worry about it any more. You’re right: I’m not interesting. I tried once. I made myself up like other women do every day, found myself a man, and so forth. And look what came of it. Only trouble. I’m boring and normal, and a little ugly, but what about it? In this world there’s one person I love and one person who loves me. Is that sufficient for you on the subject of “Wlibgis”? Well then, let’s continue the circle. Rosa, you threw far too many fits, but I understand you. You have that Latin-American temperament, so what can you do? And besides, you’re actually wiser than the others, since you taught us that word. Is it your people’s way of saying “Open sesame”? Because of you at least we got out of that horrible place. So thank you, Rosa! And finally, Maimuna. Pretty girl. She could have become a skilled gymnast. She had a good body. I don’t have anything bad to say about her. Shame she died that way.
Wlibgis had said her piece.
Just then, after Wlibgis finishes, the door to the room opens. Two nurses, one over thirty, the other almost still a teenager, walk in. Only Wlibgis, the Wlibgis in the air, understands what they say.
“This case here, Ms. Van Deijck, won’t last much longer,” the elder says. “Give her five more milligrams of morphine.”
“Xaliimo, somehow I get the feeling she’s going to die today during my shift. Will you stay with me? This’ll be my first death.”
“If she dies before my shift is over then, yeah, I’ll be here.”
“You’ve probably seen lots of deaths.”
“Yes, I have.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“How does it feel?”
“It doesn’t feel like anything. Unless it’s a baby or a kid. Once it was. She was three and got hit by a truck backing up. She literally died in my arms when I was trying to revive her. The family’s reaction was just horrible to watch. We were all crying.”
“Who is this one’s next-of-kin?”
“Sort of a thin, pale woman. She comes sometimes with a little girl. She asked us to call once it’s over.”
“Even at night?”
“In the morning is fine, she said.”
“It’s probably good for this one that she’ll be gone soon.”
“Yeah. This is a pretty easy case since the pain is under control. She’s basically slept for the past five days. Once I had this old man who had cancer in his liver. He screamed and screamed no matter how many drugs we pumped into him. He just moaned, ‘Help me, help me.’ His wife couldn’t stand it and ran out of the room. In the end we spent more time calming the wife down that we did on the husband’s final moments.”
“I just hope I don’t get any kids, at least not yet, or any in really bad shape. I don’t think I’m ready. Of course we trained for these situations in school. An actor did a course for us once and I got given this appalling case. A young boy had done himself in, and I had to tell his parents. I really put myself into it. That one ended up in my dreams, even though I kept it together in front of the class.”
“That CPR dummy, Anne, do you know who it got its face from?”
“No. Are you saying it’s modeled after someone living?”
“Not living, dead. L’Inconnue de la Seine. Do you know it? She was a sixteen-year-old girl who was found in the Seine in the late 1800s. She washed up at a dock near the Louvre. The body was in good condition, and she was wearing a smile like the Mona Lisa. According to the legend, the girl was so beautiful that the pathologist in the Paris morgue made a death mask of her. Copies spread all over the Paris art scene. It became a decoration, her face.”
“Unbelievable! A dead girl’s face? How could anyone make a copy of that?”
“Well, of the expression and hair. It isn’t that different from a photograph.”
“So Resusci Anne’s face was modeled after that death mask? Are you serious?”
“Yes, completely! Our teacher told us the story once during a CPR course. I couldn’t help thinking about it, that I was putting my lips on a dead girl’s mouth. Apparently they’re the most kissed lips in the world.”
“Right. Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. Although you aren’t going to have to kiss Anne any more. You’ve
