Part 43 (1/2)

Then Jacqui went to run my bath. But she could no longer bathe me. But she could no longer bathe me.

'What?' Wally said.

'Nothing.'

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. He winked at me.

'Give ... me ... my ... bath ... please.'

He jerked his bony head towards the bathroom, meaning it was the nurse's job.

'No ... please ... you ... must.'

He shrugged. 'Come on then, get your suit off.'

I lay down on my face on the carpet with relief. Wally sighed and grumbled as he kneeled beside me, but I realized he was pleased to do it. He always like to be the shapoh, to make the lunch, to run the bath. It was only age and weakness made him hire the nurse in the first place. Now he was happy to open his knife and cut me free.

I felt each st.i.tch give way, and then the air on my wet skin.

'You silly f.u.c.ker,' he said. 'What have you been doing?'

'What?'

'You stupid little ballot,' he said. 'You can't do this.'

I tried to stand up, but he held me down with his palm flat on the small of my back, held me flapping like a fish on the wharf. 'Didn't you feel feel anything?' he said. anything?' he said.

I had felt a lot of things. I had felt the crowd. I had felt her breast. I had felt the small solder points and amputated wires rubbing at my skin, but there is no a.n.a.lgesic like an audience, the way it comes out to you, envelops you, wraps you in its coc.o.o.n, is warm, alive, fits you like a glove, holds you like a fist, strokes you like a cat.

When you look like I do, no one touches you.

When you look like this, your whole body cries out for touch, like dry skin for moisture.

The last st.i.tch was cut. I wanted to stay inside the suit until I got into the bath, but I was lifted out before I could protest. Wally held me in the air, my naked body covered with a glaze of blood.

Jacqui stood at the bathroom door, a big grey towel across her shoulder. I could have died, to be like that, in front of her.

'He was amazing,' she said.

I turned my face away from her. I was so ashamed, so grateful, I could have wept. My face was a rag, my skin as slimy wet with blood as a new-born child, my limbs so sad it would make you cry if you had half a heart.

'He performed,' she said. 'He juggled for them. He was astonis.h.i.+ng.'

'You're meant to look after him,' Wally said. 'You're his nurse. That's why we pay you all that money. You're meant to stop him getting hurt.'

'For Christ's sake,' she said. 'He's twenty-three years old.'

'It doesn't matter if he's a hundred.'

'He was making money for you,' she said, her face red. 'You shouldn't be shouting at him. Is he complaining? Are you complaining?' she asked me.

Wally kicked at the bloodied Mouse suit. His toe connected underneath the head and the suit lifted and flew and thwacked against the hotel wall. Then he carried me to the bath, holding me under my arms, out and away from him, so he would not put bloodstains on his clothes.

When he lowered me into the water, delicate pink clouds rose from my lacerated skin. He ran his hands over me, searching out my injuries.

'That's the last time you're wearing that thing,' Wally said.

'You ... could ... fix it ... so it ... doesn't ... scratch,' I said.

'You hate hate the Mouse.' the Mouse.'

'You don't understand,' Jacqui said to Wally. 'He was a star.'

'You don't know s.h.i.+t,' Wally said. 'You don't know what that rucking Mouse is in his life. You bring this c.r.a.p into the car ... I'm sorry I ever let you. I'm sorry I didn't make you throw it out.' He turned to me and patted at my face with a corner of a wet towel. 'You won't be needing to make money. I promise.'

'I ... did ... a ... show,' I said. 'I ... showered ... and ... cascaded ... with ... six ... b.a.l.l.s.'

Wally clicked his tongue and shook his head. 'I know what you can do,' he said.

'I ... never ... did ... six ... b.a.l.l.s ... before.'

'He tumbled,' Jacqui said. 'Did you know he could do that?'

'Yes,' Wally said, 'I knew he could do that. Now will you please go and buy bandages and antiseptic'

'He could be someone.'

'Go. Go now.'

Jacqui bought the bandages and antiseptic. She also bought sandwiches, a very large bottle of beer, and a pair of needle-nosed pliers which she did not reveal until Wally was well into the last quarter of his beer.

Then she sat cross-legged on the floor with the Mouse suit open on her lap. Slowly, one at a time, she trimmed the wires flush against the rubber inner skin. She did not explain herself to Wally, and he watched her for a long time without saying anything.

'I told you not to do this,' Wally said.

'I know.'

'When you look back on this,' he said at last, 'you're going to know what a waste of effort it was.'

When Jacqui had trimmed a wire she placed a small adhesive bandage over each connection, and felt each one with her finger. I watched her. Without knowing I was doing it, I began to sing. When I saw Wally watching me, I stopped immediately.

31.

My life had been filled with s.e.xual yearning, but yearning is not the same as hope. That is what Wally did not know when he saw me hold the flower in Zeelung. I was someone driven by impossible desire, someone whose very soul is shaped by the sure knowledge that his dreams will not come true. My mother could not have accepted this but it was so: I had learned to equate the pain of unrequited desire with pleasure. I had crawled into the same pigeonhole as those who get their satisfaction from sniffing women's shoes or underwear, or learn to achieve secret bliss from having their hair cut or their back washed. She would have hated to think of me like this. She would have had me focus on the startling quality of my gold-flecked eyes, the baby softness of my skin. She would have believed that I could make myself attractive with sheer will, with breathing exercises, and such was my dear maman's enduring power that I continued to hide certain thoughts from her.

For instance, I kept all my excitements about the Simi hidden in the dark side of my brain, away from her. She would not have understood it. She would have felt it a betrayal.