Locked in a shell

Each day, Sal mooches in and slumps exhausted in a chair by my bed,
ogling my way, shoving plump purple fruits one by one into her mouth.
The slithers of grape wedge in gaps round her tea-stained teeth. I
grunt and shift my right arm like a puppet, gesturing painfully, the
art not quite mastered but my hand won't keep still. And, I give up.
She flares her nostrils and arches a brow unsure. I cringe 'don't do
that!' She hasn't a clue but then why would she know my pain. I tilt to
the left these days but she stares above my half cocked head, her ears
pinned back, straining to hear what every other soul in the ward ails
from, and how their crippling condition consumes, yet she seemingly
sympathises with their suffering.
'How are you today, Harry, feeling any better, love?'
I nod for yes, and I nod for no. That's the best I do. Why does she
bother?
'I saw Jaynie this morning, dashing off to the school with the twins,
she couldn't stop long but she blew you a kiss. Says her Dennis is up
for promotion. About blooming time, I told her.'
I must have blinked, or frowned, or something. Her shrilling tone
pierces my ear.
'Dennis - promotion - about blooming time!'
Some one shut her up, please! Deaf, I'm not.
'Here's your new shaver, I'll leave it to one side. I didn't bother
with a paper, not much point, eh?'
I suppose that's her way of paying me back for rejecting her wanton
advances night after night, my nose then permanently stuck in a book.
She'd hide them under the cushions, or stash them in the cupboards. She
knew as soon as supper plates glistened clean, I'd flee into a world of
wonder, and over the rim of my specs, I'd see the chump curling her lip
in a snarl. Locked in a shell! Nowhere new to wander; indulge, or
impose upon; damn you woman! I want to lash out, choke her, at least
maim her but I itch to do worse, sadly, I can't.
She leans across, tissues the dribble from my chin and blocks the
daylight, then weaves her fingers through course-bleached hair,
exposing her grey roots.
'Here's sister to see you, Harry. Come to give you a shave, I daresay.
I'll pop out for a cuppa.'
This one's cute! Her perfume wafts as she perches quite close, its
fragrance as sweet as her breath that breezes warm across my cheek.
Slender fingers that ripple a tickle on my chin, as in a draping of
velvet upon the skin. Her trim body poured neatly into the starched
hospital dress, the same vivid blue as her saucer wide eyes. And in
those deep sensuous pools bathes compassion and kindness but no pity,
thank God! Her fingers iron my top lip each and every way to get at
bristles underneath my nose, I gaze perplexed as pert breasts seemingly
rest on numbed arm. Drawn the short straw again. Why doesn't she lean
on my right? Heavy are my lids slowly sagging to the rhythmic drone,
buzzing as the shaver head rotates, cuts and collects the day old
stubble. I'm too dazed to imagine the rounded firmness of one so ripe;
such teasing torment. In a quiet caring manner, she tips at the waist
and slaps her creamy pink palms down on her thighs, peering into my
listless eyes.
'Smooth as a baby's bottom, and not a whisker in sight; I'll take your
pulse and then I've no cause to disturb you again.'
If only you would, the height of my day but she won't - believe me,
she won't. I roll jaded eyes her way. She fixes her stare at the upside
down clock face, pinned precariously on heaving bosoms, pressing firm
two fingers on the artery; under side of my wrist. Insufferable twitch,
she tightens the grip and steadies my arm.
'A little racier than normal, I'll let the doctor know, nothing to
fret about.'
It's not a doctor, I need. If it weren't so tragic, I'd laugh, not
that I can but I'd bust a gut trying. Oh crumbs! Here strolls Sal
larger than life. That's it girl chat to old Charlie on your way in.
Poor old beggar, never a soul visits him, yet he's happier than
most.
Sal's shooting glances my way through steely blue eyes; then, what's
new? The day I flew off my motorbike and grappled with the falling sky,
she'd dashed outside but froze by the garden gate. The colour drained
from her face, though her eyes bulged in horror and as paramedics
whipped tubes into my veins, she turned and fled in doors. I craned to
see, and yelled her name, the last syllable I ever voiced, and then the
day turned over.
'Had your shave, I see Harry.'
Whatever happened to the slip of a girl I wed? The moment I mumbled I
do, she fell pregnant. Whispered her news in my ear, she did. Struck
dumb, I pushed her out of my face but my flaying arm caught her chin!
It was an accident! She never accepted it as such but then she wouldn't
would she? Sentenced to graft all hours under the sun, I damn near
killed myself, struggling to raise a deposit on a two up, two down
terraced, overlooking the canal, and for what? Bone-idle, she is and
couldn't wait to chuck her job in, hasn't sought a day's work since,
and screwed up the chance of a cheap mortgage, selfish moo! I've never
forgiven her.
'I'm off to the bingo later, Harry. I might just win the big one, you
never know your luck, eh love?'
She's having a laugh! Why does she come? I'll tell you why, somewhere
to go, and now she's dealing out a pack of cards. Well! Not much else
for her to do? A burning pain shoots across the back of my eyes, its
sting cavorting rudely down redundant neck muscles, jeering I guess, at
the affliction I've been lumbered with. I want to close my eyes and
drift away but I shan't. Not until I've seen my Jaynie.
She flits in as Sal is about to go and after several minutes of hushed
snippets with her mum; heads huddled beyond the foot of the bed, she
beams the sweetest of smiles and chucks her arms around my neck, plants
a kiss upon my head and blubbers a tear or two. I feel the trickle down
the right side of my brow. And from her plastic carrier she pulls out a
book. My heart leaps, I'm sure.
'How you doing, dad? I'll read you some of my book.'
Pure angel face, I so love you! She lives my passion and when only a
dot and curled in a ball on her duvet, and Sal was stood ironing
downstairs in front of TV soaps. I'd pace about her room and read
noisily, her every manual she owned. She'd toss, turn, and hang on my
every breath; her big grey eyes alight - like mine, and then she'd part
her cherry lips in awe of drama, I'd act out.
A cough clears her throat and prized words tumble from her quivering
lips, her glance lowers on the page; and like music to the ears, the
prose swells, stifling the emptiness within me. A veil of mist clouds
my vision of rare loveliness. A ray of light summons me in earnest.
Dare I miss this fables end? This inward ache erupting threefold, I
fight to grab and hug her. My heart has burst, I know! The pounding
rears from inner depths, its pain unknowing and I flight from
fear.
And when I wake into this darkness, I am alone; her open book upon my
chest is laid - 'bloody charming, that is, I suppose she'd thought I'd
snuffed it!'