Skunk:
And don’t be buying her anything either.
tearing
at a sudden itch just inside his hairline,
Skunk:
Seriously. There’s no point,
ache1:
Even for me?
Skunk
(neither understanding nor even hearing): and the nurses will just have to clear
it away later anyway, so...
ache1,
standing with E.T. in the crook of her arm, watches him walk off in the
direction of the wards, before entering the gift shop in the hospital’s lobby
area.
From
everything he has told her to date, she knows his mother’s condition is
unchanging from one visit to the next, has been so since her admittance, so why
he might want or need to go on ahead “just to check” has her puzzled.
Skunk: Look, don’t eh, when we get there
I’m going to just, I’ll pop up and just check that everything’s, that she’s
clapping his hands with embarrassment.
Skunk (sighs): I just want to make sure
everything’s okay. Okay? Is that
ache1: Yeah, that, that’s
fine, that’s fine.
Skunk: Are you nervous?
ache1: You’re nervous.
Skunk: I am nervous, I am
nervous. This is... This isn’t normal for me.
ache1: Right, but ahm, for me
this is very
and then seeing the look upon his face
ache1: Well, I’m ahm, of course
I’m nervous, Skunk, Jesus. But, I’m also not nervous, dumb as that
sounds.
She
crosses through the shop to the magazines, and having sat E.T. facing out upon
one of the shelves, selects a cover graced with the plaintive face of Kurt
Cobain.
ache1:
Pretty boy,
rubbing
a finger quickly back and forth along his lips,
ache1:
you pretty pretty boy.
Two
elderly women, each under the weight of the other’s support, are finalising
their choice of flowers for whomever it is they’re here to visit.
cog:
Oh those are fine, those are fine. So we just need to get her a card now.
cog:
Now I saw the cards are just over there.
their
conversation becoming more clearly audible as they approach the card racks
alongside where ache1 still stands looking through the magazines.
cog:
You better choose something, I’m no good at choosing things like that.
cog
(lifting one from out of the stand): What about this one, do you not think
she’d like the flowers? They’re just like the
waving
the actual flowers she carries best she can.
cog:
Oh no no no, we can’t get her that one, you can’t give her that one, no.
cog:
No? I thought, what’s wrong with it?
cog:
She’s not going to get well, is she?
cog:
Oh no, no of course, of course, what was I thinking?
As
they walk away together, for just that exact duration of time it takes her to
formulate the thought and comprehend it, ache1 thinks to buy her a
card just to spite him, then thinks again.
