Having helped her to sit up on the edge of the bed, he says while kneeling in front of her and putting on her slippers:
- You look like I was again causing you nightmares.
No response. No smile. No eye sparkling.
- Did I again offer you tea all night until you were fed up with me?
- ...
- Hm, do you think you are ready to fly into my arms?
- Yes.
- Alright then. ... Ready?
- Yes.
- You know that you will never ever fall when the strongest of all sons-in-law's with you?
- Yes.
- Good. So let's do it, Mylady. One ... two ... three! Done.
A little scream. Her head leaning against his left shoulder; he feels her shivering.
- Did it hurt?
- No.
- You say when you are ready for the marathon?
- I am ready.
- Good. So give me your hands, Mylady.
Slowly, step by step, they cover the three metres to the bedroom door, its threshold.
- And now we are climbing Mt. Everest. ... Good.
Minutes later. The old woman sitting on the toilet, he sitting on the rim of the bath tub.
- Don't you feel well?
- No.
- Any pain?
- No.
- So, w...
- I'll tell you when I've the teeth in my mouth.
- So be it.
He smiles. Their eyes meet. She does not smile.
Half an hour later, having another marathon behind her, with climbing Nanga Parbat and Popocatepetl, surviving a breakfast containing of three tiny bits of bread - one with egg and fleurs de sel, one with walnut cheese, one with chaumes -, a cup of tea and three pills, she says:
- It was so horrible! Wearing white runners, on arriving with my bicycle at the grocer's suddenly there was a sandheap. I fell. While getting up, fortunately Mickey appeared. Mickey, I said, could you please pick up my bike? He did, and I asked him: Mickey, would you now, please, be so kind and slap me? - But, why should I slap you, Eireen? he asked. Oh Mickey, I said, Diarmuid's told me by no means to get up without him. I could call him at any time of the day and the night, and now I am here. He will ... In the next moment I awoke ... ah ... and so relieved I felt to be in my bed. Still, I was shivering with horror.
- White runners? Did you ever wear white runners?
- No.
- Did you really ask Mickey to slap you?
- Yes.
And he laughed and laughed and ... both they laughed.
A very tough time for both. I hope there will be shared laughter, even unto the end.
ReplyDeleteAt least, the shared laughter is a touching end to this short story. You'll never lose what you can share.
ReplyDeleteBertus
The life whisperer chasing nightmares, calming fears, strengthening weakness, enticing food for the body, peace and laughter for the soul...
ReplyDeleteA lifetime of love and trust beautifully translated in a tender moment. Never to be forgotten. Always to be treasured.
May spring and summer inspire and sustain you, and family, dear Sean, in breathing many joyful moments to your dear one.
The Schubert is magnificent. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI can only echo Bertus Sean. Shared laughter is a shared treasure
ReplyDeleteLike Jams, I can merely affirm the above. Thanks for writing it, Sean...
ReplyDeletejmb,
ReplyDeletea good wish. Thank you.
The time's tough, indeed, (for her more, less for him), but at the same time enriching ... for both.
Bertus,
this is so. And if you happened to be a tiny mouse sitting in a corner, watching them and listening to them, you'd often see sparkling eyes, smiling lips, and sometimes you'd hear them laughing.
Claudia,
:) he does, indeed, call himself life whisperer, 'cause 14 days ago she didn't want to drink and eat, but only was longing this to quickly end, and day by day he managed to encourage her to drink and eat a bit more; and although ups are being followed by downs, meanwhile she's making plans for the time when she's (at least almost as) fit as she's been before.
Thank you very much for your kind words. And for sure, many moments will not be forgotten.
As for Schubert's 'Nacht und Träume' (Night and Dreams): Originally I intended to just post this very music; just to let my hiatus not become too long.
Before posting it, this (her) very dream came to my mind, though ... :)
Jams,
and what a treasure it is. Thank you.
D.E.,
thank you.
to not tell the untruth, I hesitated to write a story of such intimacy; that's why I told it in the third person.
Interesting, though, that (almost) without thinking I chose to call one protagonist Diarmuid (with the lovespot). :)