Chapter 4 - FWU

The white room and all of its insipid contents made Marion nauseous. She opened her eyes from a very bad dream, a dream that had repeated itself for the past month and a half; one that did not disappear even when she woke up. Reality once again dawned on her like a tidal wave of grief.

Marion turned her head and looked at the door to the bathroom, only partially closed, but open just enough for her to see the tap dripping. For ten long minutes she watched each drop hit the sink, and tried her hardest to listen to the sound it made as it hit. Soon she smelled her own soil in her nappy or as the nurses called it, incontinence aid. Humiliation welled up inside of her. She couldn’t feel below her waist. It was impossible to tell when she was busting for the toilet. A single tear fell from her eye and slipped down to her pillow. Through the window on the door which led out of the room, she looked for a nurse she recognised. It was her excuse not to use the assistance remote because she wanted to put off anybody seeing her this way. But the smell didn’t help her in the slightest. All she wanted was to run away from it, to run far and never look back. But she would never walk again. She was confined to a wheelchair and the assistance of strangers wiping her lower regions and making her meals. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong to make God spite her in such a way.

The TV was swarmed with news of her incident caught on tape for the first few weeks. At first, she watched herself over and over as she flew through the windscreen in slow motion, her head smashing into the glass and her legs catching under the steering wheel. When she closed her eyes, she could feel and hear the crack of bones as they snapped forwards. Every thought made her sick, and many times she would vomit and be held by one of the nurses. In a flash of car beams and beeping horns, her life became a nightmare that was too real to wake from. Not even utopia could create for her the illusion that something in her life was right.

When the day came that Marion was released from hospital, her mother, Margery, took the liberty of driving her home. It was good to be back in a place that was familiar to her, that felt like she had a sense of control over herself. Margery would only stick around for as long as it took to complete her motherly duties and leave with a clear conscience. Together they waited for the support worker to arrive.

Normally, Marion would be sitting on this exact seat of her couch, tapping her feet as impatience and boredom overwhelmed her. Maybe miraculously making her legs move would help her out a little bit. Her right leg was the first objective. She stared at it long and hard.

Move. Twitch. Tap. Do something, damn it! Come on, move! God, why did you hurt me?

The feeling of vulnerability was overpowering and for long shattering moments she fought the tears threatening to flood her vision. God had made it clear that he was punishing her now. She considered herself punished. By now there was no use holding back her tears. They fell between her limp legs and created wet marks, darkening the blue patches of her couch.

She was officially dependant on a wheelchair, on somebody pushing her around, on people helping her to dress and shower; on everything that penetrated her defences and burned them to ashes. She could not tap her feet. She couldn’t walk to the cupboard to fetch another bottle of Bacardi or straight vodka. What was the point in anything anymore? There wasn’t much point to begin with.

Marion’s mother grew impatient with their awkward silence. She paced back and forth across the room, dragging her feet on the grey-white carpets, as though the woman was deliberately rubbing in the fact that Marion was paraplegic and she was not. For what felt like a long, antagonizing length of time this continued before there was finally a knock on the door.

“He’s here,” her mother breathed in relief. She marched to the door and swung it open, revealing a man whose eyes were as blue as his hair was long.

Marion’s jaw dropped at the man standing at her door. He was dressed in a black shirt with red trim, dark blue jeans, leather shoes that matched his shirt and had a blue backpack slung over his one shoulder. He smiled warmly, even as his eyes fell on hers. She felt heat rush to her cheeks. She’d treated him so badly and now here he was, standing at the door of the perfect opportunity to make her reap what she sewed.

Her legs flopped inadequately below her and she very suddenly felt weak.

“Hi there,” Margery spoke and introduced herself. “Come in.”

Jesus, whose name Marion had forgotten, sat down beside her and shook her hand.

“Hi there, Marion, how are you doing?” he asked. His tone and stature was entirely professional. There was nothing in his expression or eyes that suggested he was here for anything but his job.

“My name is Donny Hughes and I’m from Green Care. I specialise in the care of people with disabilities.”

“What about palliative care?” she asked. She must have been dying because she had already made it halfway to hell.

“That too,” he smiled half-heartedly. “But fortunately that isn’t why I’m here. Please Mrs Catrinova, join us. I’m going to interview both of you, with Marion’s permission of course, and you can feel free to ask me as many questions as you like.”

“Ah yeah, I have one,” Marion said. “Are you still deaf?”

Margery looked horrified at her daughter but Marion couldn’t care less. There was nothing in their relationship that gave Marion the grounds to care. Donny, on the other hand, gave nothing away.

“As a matter of fact,” he said. “My hearing is exactly as it was one month ago when you last saw me. Now, I just want to chat and get some information about you. Things like your hobbies, interests, favourite past time and skills. Things like that,” he said.

“Ah, okay. Cool, so you’re Deaf Jesus, then,” she paused and waited for his response. His eye didn’t do so much as twitch so she carried on. “Well, my favourite hobby is drinking. My interest and favourite past time is drinking and my skill is being incredibly drunk.”

Margery was fuming at this rate. She marched over and loomed above Marion, her expressions distorted in the same way that Marion’s did when she was angry. The two shared a major resemblance. She opened her mouth and shouted at her daughter.

“Am I paying all of this money for you to throw it away with your rude behaviour and snarky comments, Mariona Jay Catrinova? I’ll be damned if you expect me to pay a single cent more to help you, you self-centred, self-righteous little-”

“Mrs Catrinova!” Donny intervened before she could say anything more to hurt her daughter. “Do you mind if I talk to Marion in private, please?”

The woman looked at him in surprise. She took this time to calm down and regain her composure. Her jaw was still tense, but she sighed deeply, closed her eyes and nodded. He noticed that Marion was tense and shaking. Did her mother scare her? Donny waited until she left the room before talking again. He pushed those thoughts aside and started where they left off.

“Before drinking became a big deal to you, what did you enjoy doing?” Donny asked with a gentle voice.

Marion wouldn’t fall for it. She was going to get what she deserved. God proved that and so would Donny. There was no point in opening up when it would only be used against her.

“Being with guys I guess…flirting, mingling, screwing, you know, the whole shebang.” She sounded angry as she spoke. Donny tried his best to appear professional.

“Good, there’s a good start,” he smiled. He seemed too unaffected and it made Marion suspicious. As if someone could be so cool with that response. “So you’re a social person. I suspect you like parties and friends and communal environments. Am I on the right track?”

“I suppose so,” Marion shrugged. He was playing nice, she was sure of it.

“Do you like to read or write? Are you into photography, cooking, bicycling, diving, car racing, anything like that?”

“I used to enjoy mountain climbing back in the day but what good will it do me now?” she yelled, her voice blared with self-pity. “What good will any goddamn thing do me now, huh? I’m a cripple, for Christ’s sake, I’ve got nothing!”

Margery raced into the room to see what the commotion was, but Donny flung his hands and sent her away before Marion noticed.

Her eyes burned red as tears came streaming down. All she wanted was to run from the room and away from everybody and everything. The one thing she never thought she’d want, the one thing she never thought she’d need was suddenly thrown at her right when she couldn’t have it. She looked at her legs and felt too much grief to handle her emotions anymore.

“May I touch your hand?” he asked.

Marion didn’t know why he asked that, but she nodded and allowed his hand to rest on hers. She lifted her head and her eyes fixated on his. Even when her body wracked with sobs, she listened to his every word.    

“The whole purpose of me being here, Marion, is not for you to be dependent on me. I’m not a nurse or carer, I’m a support worker. The real purpose is to find your strengths and work on them so you won’t need me or the support of anybody else. With some physiotherapy, we’ll strengthen your arms so that you can move around yourself. I’ll take you wherever you want to go whether it’s to clubs, a friend’s place, the park, a mountain if that’s what you wanted. I’ll help you til you get there. Do you understand?”

Marion stared at him, dumbstruck and awestruck. For a moment she could hardly believe what she was hearing. Deaf Jesus was helping her. It was a miracle in its own right. Maybe God felt so guilty that he delivered a compensation worker. Fat chance, she thought. She was still being tied to someone who resembled everything she hated. Everything her father hated. Despite this, his words had relaxed her and gave her a strange sense of hope.

He made her a cup of tea and over the course of thirty minutes, she was mostly back to her usual self. They continued to discuss her care plan.

“I want to do aqua therapy with hot life guards if that’s okay with you. And instead of a physiotherapist, I would like a gym trainer - a good looking male. Is this all okay?” she asked.

Donny grinned. “Works for me if it works for you.”

Marion was taken aback. How could he be okay with this? She didn’t say anything though. She pretended to be glad to have her way.

Margery re-entered the room when the commotion died down and joined in the interview. Marion didn’t particularly want her there, but because she was paying for it she supposed there was little choice. When Margery’s input had been offered, she decided it was the right time to take her leave.

“I’ll come visit you every few weeks if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s ah, that’s fine, mom,” Marion stuttered awkwardly. “Have a safe trip.”

Shortly after Margery left, a soft patter of rain fell outside and trickled down the windows. It gradually grew heavier, and heavier. Donny’s phone rang during mid-conversation. He excused himself and left the room. Marion tried to be patient, but time dragged on longer when she wasn’t able to tap her feet. She had no way to express her impatience or boredom. Donny walked back into the room after five minutes and sat beside Marion again, looking troubled.

“There’s a storm expected to hit tonight. I apologise, I wasn’t aware,” he said.

“What’s the problem?” Marion asked. “It’s just a storm.”

“Emily Fishstone is your overnight support worker but I’m afraid she isn’t able to make it. She left her windows down and her car flooded,” he almost chuckled. “If it won’t make you feel uncomfortable, my supervisor has asked that I take her shift tonight.”

The rain got louder within seconds and Marion figured that this was where the storm started. The first clap of thunder hit as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Suits me just fine. You’re not the first guy that’s spent the night…” she paused. “And it’s not like it’s your first night either.”

She almost winked to add to his obvious discomfort. But she knew that in doing that, she would cause for him to leave and have somebody replace him. Somehow she didn’t want that. He recomposed himself and smiled easily.

“Good,” he said and looked at his watch. His hair fell over his face and slid back into to its original place when he lifted his head again. “It’s almost seven. Do you want to start preparing for dinner?”

“Do you want to magically heal me and make me walk again?” she retorted. “You’re my support worker. You make it.”

Marion told him what she wanted and he left to prepare it in the kitchen. The way he was so cool with it, so fine with the way she treated him was still gnawing at her conscience. Deaf people must have been pretty stupid to allow people to step all over them. Or maybe he just couldn’t pick up on the fact that she was being nasty due to his crappy hearing. Maybe being more explicit with her insults would show her once and for all. She didn’t want to make him leave, but she wanted to know why he was so genuine despite her behaviour. Surely it wasn’t because of his profession. He was still a human after all, albeit a deaf one.

“Hey, handicap,” she called out. “Put extra cheese on my pasta!”

There was no response.

“Oi, retard!” she fired again. “Listen to me, idiot!”

Still there was no response. There was rattling coming from the kitchen so she knew that he was within hearing distance. And he wasn’t completely deaf considering the fact that they could still communicate properly. Not to mention the fact that he even had a job.

She looked at her manual wheelchair within a few centimetres of her. She reached for it, leaning much farther than she should have. Her finger tips touched the wheel of the chair and tried to wrap them around it. Just a little further… Her body gave in and she fell forwards, tipping off the couch and hitting her forehead on the footrest of the chair. The impact was hard and left her breathless. A flash of white appeared before her eyes but subsided quickly. She tried to lift her head but her hair was caught around a bolt. Her head throbbed where she’d hit it.

“Donny,” she tried to call out but her voice was hoarse and dry. Her second attempt was no more successful. Humiliation welled up inside of her, bursting when she couldn’t hold it together any longer. Her shame, her failure; all her mistakes were all she thought of as tears once again fell down her face and into her hair and carpet. She wanted Donny in here to help her while at the same time didn’t want to suffer the indignity.

“Marion, what type of cheese did you want…?” Donny stopped abruptly when he saw Marion on the ground. “Oh, s**t.”

She watched him race over to her, sparing no time as he knelt before her and analysed the situation. He saw her hair tangled in the bolt and released it, and she silently thanked him for noticing that before finding it out the hard way. He rolled her onto her back and held her hand, reassuring her that she would be okay. His voice soothed her mind like the soft caress of a feather. Her sobs were beginning to subside.

He ran his fingers through her hair, checking for any lesions or signs of blood on her head and she secretly relished in the feel of it. There was a small cut with slight bruising on her forehead but the rest of her body was clear.

“What happened?” he asked but made no attempts to lift her. She really wished that he would.

“I was trying to reach the wheelchair,” she said. “When I leaned too far forward I fell.”

“Do you feel okay? No headaches or dizziness?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

He applied first aid and gave her an icepack in case her forehead began to swell.

Marion watched him pull out his phone and dial 000. Before he could hit call, she spoke.

“You’re wasting your time,” she muttered. “I’ll be fine once you get me off the ground.”

“Sorry Marion, I’m sure you are but as protocol goes, I can’t be so sure. I’m not a paramedic or doctor. If something happens to you in the long run because of this, it’s on me. I’m not saying this to protect my job, I’m saying this to protect my conscience,” he said.

Marion nodded. She supposed that she understood. Her conscience has bugged her every day since her incident for what she had done to herself. What it’d be like to make that mistake with somebody else was completely beyond her.

He pressed the call button. She listened to him answer a range of questions and give details before he hung up.

“Her back gave in and she fell from her couch… Immediate attention.”

“It looks like we’ll be spending the night in hospital, Marion,” he said when he hung up.

Marion looked frightened laying there helplessly on the ground.

“Hey, hey now, it’s fine. Your back may have just put up with a little more strain than it could handle. It should come right.”

But it didn’t come right. Once Marion was lifted into an ambulance bed and driven off to hospital, while Donny followed suit, the doctor’s prognosis was that this would be a reoccurrence and that she had to be exceptionally careful during transitions. Even just with physiotherapy. Aqua therapy was out of the question. Donny, who had a world full of experience and the doctor presumed to have had gained Marion’s trust, was recommended to become her full time carer. An interview was to transpire between his supervisor, Marion’s case manager and Donny himself. Another interview would be conducted with the inclusion of Marion.

Things weren’t looking up as she’d had expected. The impression she got from Donny was that everything would be okay. Now she knew it was nothing short of a big, fat, outrageous lie and that she could not count on a deaf guy. She knew, oh she knew that things would have been different had he had an ounce of hearing. The whole reason she had this incident was because of his ears in the first place! If she had a normal person looking after her, none of this would have happened. She needed to file for a new worker. He was everything her father warned her against.

The rain pounded against the window, and Marion felt cold drafts come through. Lightning flashed every few seconds and shadows casted inwards. This wasn’t how things should have turned out.

She should have known.

Author's Note

Opinions, please?

Reviews

[Jake Botha]

Hi Mali,

So it is time for my to finally tackle your second chapter. Sorry for making you wait so long for the review.



The easiest part of this all is that we have been talking about your book for the most part via Skype. So that helps a lot and I have been able to gain a lot of insight to the two main characters that way. I also now understand more clearly where the story is heading and what motivates your characters in the first place.

Now moving onto the review...

I loved the opening paragraph. It doesn't dwell to long on where she is and how long she's been there. You masterfully relayed everything we need to know in one well written paragraph. Time frame and how the place looks is well written.



In its simplicity you were able to convey a lot of meaning and I liked it. As I depend heavily on the descriptive in my narration, this actually serves as an example for how I can do the same.



See, we are both learning small things from each other as we go.

You move on to the next part with ease. “For ten long minutes she watched each drop hit the sink.” This not only works well as is, it also paints an image of a monotone life. She’s been in this room for so long, that her attention is held by the smallest of details. She evens ignores the TV at the start, more interested in the water dripping down the sink.



I most certainly enjoyed the way you handled the matter of her accident. It was done well and powerfully, without to much added flair. You kept it simple, but in its simplicity, you leave enough room for the reader to react to it in their own way. How it must feel to be so utterly humiliated and unable to do anything for yourself.

One of the lines I also liked here was: “for long shattering moments.”



The stand out in this chapter is that there is almost no head hopping taking place. You stick with one character and only focus at the world through her eyes.



Not that it is ever a bad thing, I just have to teach myself not to do those random leaps from one person to the next. A constant headache in editing one’s work.



Something I did pick up on was that you never lingered for to long on her mother? We get small glimpses of who she is and how she isn’t the ideal mother out there. Simply doing her part to clear her own conscience. But, how does she look? She remains a gray ghost in my eyes?



So maybe do take some time there and describe her mother. You could even keep it short and mention that she looks like an older version of Marion. So then you don’t really have to go into detail about how she does look. As we already know how Marion looks.

Comparing the first chapter and second chapter, this one is very well written. So well done in that regard. There are very few things that I actually picked up on and would advise you to take a look at.



Maybe it has to do with the fact that I had to rewrite my review in the first place, so I truly hope I didn’t miss to much.



I know we have discussed this today already, but just want to point out that Donny’s phone rings and he answers it. Seeing as he is hearing impaired this might be a “plot hole.” Just have a look at it. Though I still think if he is completely deaf maybe he might be able to talk on a phone with some effort? I know that there are current methods used in hearing aids that make it possible for the hearing impaired to use a phone?



Now as for Marion. She still comes of a bit irritable and insensitive towards Donny. Which, to be honest makes sense. She has lost the use of her legs and isn’t it just normal to feel angry towards the world around her? Donny is simply just there to take the brunt of her anger.



Donny, still remains a mystery here. He is professional and keeps her at arms length. He remains an enigma, while Marion can be read like a book. She says what she wants to say and doesn’t shy away from it. Though she does show a certain degree of guilt in her words.



The fact that both of the characters are impaired in some way adds a lot more dimension to each. I am sure Donny’s past will still come into play a lot more as the story progresses.



I also like her “inner voice.” It feels natural and how a person of her age might think. I am however basing this on the fact that I picture her as a young twenty-something.


Some things I picked up as I read through the chapter:

He wore a black shirt with a red collar and sleeve designs. He wore dark blue jeans and black leather shoes and held a blue backpack over his shoulder. - This sentence can be cleaned up a bit.You start of two sentences of exactly the same way. Maybe try the following: He was dressed in a black shirt with red trim, dark blue jeans, leather shoes that matched his shirt and had a blue backpack slung over his one shoulder.

Don’t know if you can see the sense there? Just let me know what you think.

But she knew that in doing that, she would cause for him to leave and have somebody replace him. - Sentence feels a bit off. Maybe reword it a bit. To make it flow easier when you read it?



All in all there really isn’t a lot more I can say or discuss about this chapter, as a lot of our private conversations have revolved around your book.



So I hope the little I did say here might be of some help.



The story has progressed well and the character development is handled very well. This really was a very well thought out chapter and it shows that you know what you are talking about here.



Keep up the good work!



Jake

[MaliKate]

Haha the description bit was a temporary sentence that I completely forgot to go back to, thanks for reminding me! And I mentioned somewhere along that they shared major resemblance which was previously reworded. It didn't occur to me that I didn't have something more. I'll edit that in as soon as possible!

This was completely uplifting! Thank you so much!

[jamesemaj89]

I'm really not sure if I want to slap Marion or give her a hug and tell her things will be okay. Mostly I'm just sure that it's because she is very well written and I find that making her so believable is something that you're doing a fantastic job with.

The quality of your writing is something I'd expect to find in an actual published novel, there aren't any technical issues that I can spot with my level of experience. I'm not yet a consciously competent writer so I'm sorry that the comments in these reviews might seem vague or vacuous but I'm operating more from gut feelings, instinct, and how I think good writing looks.

In summary: I liked it. :D

[MaliKate]

Although I absolutely adore constructive criticism, praise is something I cannot and will not ever be able to get enough of. Thank you! And yep, she's a hard head but don't worry haha she'll soften up quick. :)

Thank you!

[Raven Cedrone]

"When the day finally came that Marion admitted from hospital, Margery, her mother, drove her home." This sentence didn't seem worded correctly to me, perhaps there is some missing words, or you just need to rearrange what you have here already.

"A female carer would stay with her overnight until she was able find independence." You need the word 'to' before 'find'.

"Her right left was the first objective. She stared at it long and hard." I believe you meant for the word 'left' to be 'leg' in this sentence.

Your story has continued on nicely and your character development is strong. As readers we are really starting to get to know what makes your characters tick. I see now were the title comes in to play; the description of Donny Hughes.
I look forward to more of this story from you and to see how you develop it from here on out.

~Raven

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Well done.. I like it.
Pen On.. Do u read mine 2 Time, Why etc.
Regards,
Lucky