Page 61 of Queenslander
“I’m off for a walk in the park,” Nev announced. “Need anything?”
“A winning lotto ticket?”
Nev reappeared later carrying a cup of coffee, then walked over to the window and gazed out at the Pacific again. It held power over her, more than a casual interest.
“Have you ever lived on the coast?” Ronnie asked.
Nev nodded.
“How was the park?”
“Nice. I see why people live here.” Nev continued staring out the window at the ocean.
“Anything interesting?”
“A fleet of scuba dive boats preparing to ferry tourists out to the reef.” The Great Barrier Reef. “Have you been?” Nev asked.
When she shook her head, Nev did too, which surprised her, because she thought Nev had been everywhere. “Gunni’s been a few times.” Nev stretched, then took the chair closest to the bed. Her voice softened. “How are you feeling? Knackered?”
Ronnie decided that was an accurate description. Nev touched her head, then gently pulled her hair. It took her a moment to realize that her friend was brushing her hair.
“That feels nice.”
She went back to sleep, or what counted as sleep here. Nev would be the only one of her visitors to remember to bring a hairbrush. Nev thought of everything.
The bed inflated and deflated, making a noise like a washing machine. Cuffs on her legs did the same, squeezing, forcing blood through her heart and lungs, simulating life. Her feet and ankles looked like they belonged to someone else. The doctor called it edema, swelling from surgery.
“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Nev asked.
Good question. “Maybe in school.” No, that wasn’t true, it was mandatory in the place down near Brissie. Everything there had to be tidy for daily inspection, like in the military.
“I run my fingers through it every few days.” Her curls had broken every brush anyway.
“When I’m in New Zealand this weekend with Gunni, Blaise will wash your hair.”
“Do you always think of everything?”
“Yes.”
The ice packs on her stomach felt nice. Nothing to do now but sleep and wait for her body to heal itself. Full system reset. Unplug it and plug it back in.
“Not much petrol in your tank.” Nev tactfully didn’t mention therecovering from a c-sectionhandout on the bedside table. That wasn’t exactly the surgery she had, but someone here thought it was close enough. The pamphlet said, ‘Five days in thebed, five days on the bed, five days near the bed.’ Mattie and Reg had both read it to her when they were alone with her.
Nev had a thing about blood. One time when Rainbow was four, Rainbow cut her head falling off the monkey bars Nev built for her at the farm. Nev had run indoors to fetch a damp towel. While Ronnie cleaned Rainbow’s face, Nev had been sick into one of two Japanese urns in the kitchen garden. The urn had been too heavy to tip onto its side and too deep to flush out with the hose.
Ronnie licked dry lips, stomach full of painkillers and apple juice, suspecting she might be sick again but hoping the nausea would pass. “Remember the time you chundered in the Japanese urn?”
“Hard to forget.”
“Did you ever clean it out? Or just throw dirt in there and call it good?”
Nev chuckled. “Worms don’t know the difference.”
True. Judging by the sudden warmth between her legs that slowly turned cold, Ronnie suspected she had bled through another pair of maternity underwear. Nurses had taken the catheter out earlier and she hadn’t forgiven them yet.
Two nurses appeared, undid the leg cuffs and set them aside, then moved everything off Ronnie’s lap. She tried to help.
Linoleum was cold under her feet but she couldn’t feel her toes.
