It was horrifying to live through it, but even more horrifying to be a child and watch it happen to someone you think is indestructible. I remembered my own Mum’s death all too well. I clearly recalled how she’d tried to get us to safety in the bank, and when an armed man stepped between us and a way out, she turned around to shield me from him. The terrified expression on her face. Then a gunshot and her body, which flinched once and fell down, still shielding my own.
I can’t do this to my daughter. Somehow I had to make sure that she wouldn’t see or hear me suffocating. But how? The coughing fits came more and more often. Today it was one after the other, and I started to panic. All it would take was for one of them to last a little longer… I shuddered.
I lay still, wondering what kind of arrangement to make with Dad. It wouldn’t be fair to him either, especially after what he’s been through. But he was an adult and knew that Ruby must be protected.
I focused on the sounds around me. My daughter’s laughter and cheerful screams were coming from the outside, she must be at the playground again. Dad’s baritone joined in every few moments, reminding her to be careful.
Then there was another sound. A wild cough coming from the inside of the house, and then Darlene’s weak voice, repeating a single word.
“Help…”
Do I have enough strength to worry about anything else now?
I made myself sit up. I waited until the vertigo goes away, then reached for a sweater and put it on, because my body was overcome with shivers. I put my slippers on and drank a glass of water to calm the aching throat. A futile attempt. There was a burning piece of charcoal in my throat that even all the water in the ocean wouldn’t put out. I leaned against the bedside table and pushed myself off the bed with shaky hands.
I must have looked like a hundred year old granny but that was how I felt. Weak, at the end of my journey. The last remaining bits of energy were spent on slow steps towards Darlene and Hugh’s bedroom. I left sweat marks on the walls as I was dragging myself along them.
I knocked and almost screamed out. The pain in my knuckles was so intense I thought my hand would break into pieces. Darlene coughed in response and I opened the door.
She was lying in bed, covered with two blankets. She had taken Hugh’s blanket too, because he didn’t need it anymore. His body on the other half of the bed was waxy looking and bloated. How long has he been dead?
His eyes were bulging out, staring unseeing into the ceiling, through the roof, up somewhere to the sky. I shuddered and almost fainted, weak and disgusted by the scene. Was this how Ruby would find me?
Darlene coughed. She tried to tell me something but couldn’t. Every word, every syllable was interrupted by crackling, wheezing, the persistent cough. She knew it, her eyes seemed to say: It’s my turn now. Her frowning eyebrows, tears quivering on her eyelashes were adding: I don’t want to…
You’ve done this, a voice in my head said.
I went to her and took her hand in mine. I was the one that took Darlene to the edge, a calming touch was the least I could do.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, but it would have been a miracle if she’d understood. I had just as much trouble speaking as she did. Maybe even more so, given that I’d been sick for longer.
I couldn’t help her, however much I’d wanted to. Even as I was getting up from the mattress, I somehow knew that this visit wouldn’t help me. I was being pushed by something else…
By sheer willpower I managed to take a step back and turn around. Break away from her gaze. I survived another vertigo and, bent as a willow tree, stepped forward. I didn’t aim for the soft, warm bed waiting for me in the bedroom. I was going outside. I chose the main entrance; Dad and Ruby couldn’t be allowed to see me.
Through the patio and three steps down. My hand slipped off the railing and closed around thin air. There was nothing to hold onto anymore, no support around me, and I staggered by the whining dog through the yard, the unlocked gate, the field with grazing cattle. Towards a small forest on the other side of the property.
Wind blew against me, but I was so cold I barely felt it. I dragged myself like a zombie, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. And then again. And again. The sun was calmly and patiently making its way across the bright blue sky, measuring out the rest of the afternoon.
At the edge of the forest I leaned on a tree and looked back. Dad and Ruby were still there. Ruby sat on a swing, her back to me, flying back and forth, her braids whirling around her head. Dad’s large, protective hand was steady on her back, pushing her forward.
I didn’t want Ruby to see me so debilitated, but I was granted the gift of seeing them both one last time. I stared at them, blinking, carving this picture so deep into memory that not even death would be able to take it away.
As if moved by some higher power, Dad suddenly turned around and looked my way. He was so far that I could barely make out his face. Only his posture, the sudden stillness, showed his surprise.
Did he realise what I was doing? That I was leaving to spare my daughter the trauma, and him the unthinkable task
