The Marble Collector

12

‘Fergus, it’s time!’ Nurse Lea says brightly as she enters my room with a great big smile on her face. She’s always smiling, she has two big dimples in her cheeks, like holes, big enough to fit marbles in; maybe not average-sized marbles, but miniature ones would slot in there quite nicely and never budge. She’s a young girl, a country girl, from Kerry. She sings everything and you can hear her laugh from the nurses’ desk all the way down the corridor to my room at the end. My spirits are usually up but she has the ability to lift them even higher. If I’ve had a tough day in physio – and there are plenty of those – she always arrives with a smile on her face, a steaming mug of coffee and a cupcake. She makes them herself and hands them around to everyone. I tell her if she put as much effort into her boyfriends she’d have them eating out of her hand, but she’s single and always has stories of disastrous dates to share with me.

I have a soft spot for her. She reminds me of Sabrina. Or how Sabrina used to be before she had the boys. Now she’s distracted, obviously, by three little boys on hyper drive. We start a conversation and never finish it, a lot of the time we barely get the chance to finish the sentence. She’s scattier than she used to be; she used to be sharp, like Lea. She’s always tired, she’s put on weight too. My ma was always as tough as old boots, the only time I recall her softening is when she’d had more than one brandy, which was rare, maybe twice a year. She was rake thin, always running after the seven of us, and after her pregnancies she always managed to get her figure straight back. Maybe if I’d known my ma before she’d had us I’d see a change in her too, maybe she had a carefree spirit before us and the pressures of life and motherhood changed that. God knows I changed in my life; I’m in here now. I can’t imagine her ever carefree, not even in photos, they’re posed rigid and uptight-looking. Arms down by your sides, no physical contact, glum faces to the camera, which I expect was felt to be the best face forward. There is one photograph though, one which I keep close to me at all times, of Ma, on the beach, taken by Da, in Scotland. She’s sitting on a towel on the sand, leaning back on her elbows, her face lifted to the sun, her eyes closed. She’s laughing. I don’t know how many times I’ve studied it and wondered what she’s laughing at. It’s a sexy pose, provocative, though I’m sure she didn’t intend it to be so. Hamish is a baby and sits by her toes. She’s probably laughing at something Hamish has done, or something Da said, something innocent that resulted in this look. It’s odd, I know, to keep provocative photos of your ma, psychotherapists would have a field day with it, but it lifts me.

When I picture Sabrina in my mind I see a screwed-up face, worried.

‘Are we watching a 3-D film?’ I ask Lea, teasing her about the funny glasses that she’s wearing.

‘I have a pair for you too,’ she says, taking a pair out of her pocket and handing them to me. ‘Stick them on.’

I put them on and stick out my tongue and she laughs.

‘Did you forget, Fergus, the solar eclipse is today?’

I’m not sure if I’d forgotten it, as I don’t remember ever knowing it.

‘We have a perfect sky to see it, not a cloud anywhere. Of course we’re not in the perfect place, they keep going on on the radio about the best path to stand in, but the sun is the sun, sure wherever you stand you’ll see it. I’ve made cupcakes for everyone. Vanilla cupcakes. I wanted to make chocolate but Fidelma, my new flat mate – remember I told you about her, the Donegal nurse? She’s a pig, she ate all the Cadbury bars in the fridge,’ she fumes. ‘Four of them. The large ones. I’ve put Post-its all over the flat now, “Don’t touch this”, “Don’t eat this”. Just looking at her makes me mad. And remember that new plasma TV I got from my neighbour who was throwing it out? She hasn’t a clue how to use it, keeps feckin’ using the wrong remote controls. Found her pointing the gas fire remote control at the TV screen.’

We both laugh at that. She gives out but not in an angry way, it’s humorous, it’s all with a smile on her face, and that strong sing-song voice. It’s lovely, like a bird chirping outside your window on a sunny May day. She tells this story while she helps me up out of my reading chair and into the wheelchair. Lea is with me most days, but when she’s not the others have a different style, which is difficult to adjust to. Some are quieter, trying to be respectful, or lost in their heads with whatever’s going on in their own lives, or they’re too bossy and talk at me, reminding me of my ma barking at me when I was a boy. They’re not rude, but Lea just has the magic touch. She knows to talk me through it, talks about other things like what we’re doing isn’t happening. You want that from a person who has had to wipe your arse and clean your balls. The silence with the others makes me realise it’s really happening. Tom next door can’t stand her. ‘Does she ever shut up?’ he grumbles. He says it so loud I’m sure she’s heard, but it doesn’t stop her. But that’s Tom, he wouldn’t be happy unless he had something to complain about.

She wheels me out into the sunshine, to the small lawn that we sit out on on sunny days like today. Everyone is gathered outside and looking up at the sky with these ridiculous plastic glasses. The radio is on, Radio One, a live commentary of what we’re about to see, like they’ve been doing all week. I’ve never heard so much about numbras and penumbras and then fellas on talking about voodoo stuff with the full moon, though that I believe. Sabrina could never sleep as a little girl whenever there was a full moon. She’d always come into our room, crawl into our bed, curl up in the middle of me and Gina, and lie there awake, sighing loudly, tapping on my shoulder, my face, anything to wake me up to have some company. Once I brought her downstairs and made her a hot chocolate and we sat in the dark kitchen, lights off, and watched the moon, her wide awake, staring at the moon as though hypnotised by it, as though having a silent conversation with it, me falling asleep in the chair. Gina came down and shouted the head off me, it was a school night, it was three a.m., what did I think I was doing? That was that.

I think of her now on nights when I see the full moon, wonder if she’s up, sitting in her kitchen having a hot chocolate, long curls down her back, though the curls are gone now of course.

Everyone is in flying form, excited about the natural phenomenon. Lea is telling me about the date she was on last night as she applies sun cream to my face and arms. My legs are covered up. She went to the cinema with a garda from Antrim. I tut.

‘You can’t talk at the cinema,’ I say. ‘Never go to the cinema on a first date.’

‘I know, I know, you told me that when he asked me and you’re right, but we went for drinks afterwards and believe me I was glad of the two hours not talking, he was such an eejit, Fergus. My ex-girlfriend this, my ex-girlfriend that. Well, tell you what, fella, you can have your ex-girlfriend. I’m off.’

I chuckle.

‘I’ll get you a cupcake, which one do you want? I’ve some with jellies, marshmallows, I had Maltesers but Fidelma ate them too,’ she says with a grin.

‘Surprise me,’ I say. While she’s gone I look around and see that there’s lots of visitors today. Children run around the grass, one has a kite, though no matter how fast he runs it won’t take off from the ground, no wind today. There’s not a cloud in the sky, it’s a beautiful indigo blue, with wispy white swirls. This triggers something and I try hard to remember but I can’t. This happens sometimes. A lot. And it frustrates me.

‘Here you go.’ She returns with a plate of two cupcakes and a soft drink.

I look at them, feeling a bit confused.

‘Don’t you want them?’ she asks.

‘No, no, it’s not that,’ I say. ‘Is my wife coming?’

She stiffens a little, but pulls up a chair and sits down beside me.

‘Do you mean Gina?’

‘Of course I mean Gina. My wife, Gina. And Sabrina, and the boys.’

‘Remember the boys are going off camping with their dad today? Aidan was to bring them to Wicklow with their cousins.’

‘Ah.’ I don’t remember that. Sounds like fun for them. Alfie will no doubt go hunting for worms, he likes that. Reminds me a bit of Bobby when he was little, except instead of eating them like Bobby did, he likes to name them. He once made me keep Whilomena worm in a cup for an entire day. ‘But what about Sabrina? Where is she?’ I picture that screwed-up worried face, frowning in concentration like she’s trying to solve a problem, or remember the answer to something that she’s forgotten. Yes, that’s what it is. Always as though she has forgotten something. If the boys are all off on their jaunt then she must be alone. Unless she’s with Gina, but Gina is very busy these days, with Robert, her new husband. Of course, that’s why Lea looked at me in that way, I must stop calling Gina my wife. I sometimes forget these things.

‘Sabrina was here this morning, remember? I think she had some stuff to take care of, but she’ll be back in to visit tomorrow as usual, I’m sure.’

I feel around my pockets.

‘Can I help you, Fergus?’

Lea again, always at the right time.

‘My phone, I think I left it in my room.’

‘I think it’s getting close to the eclipse now. Will I get it for you after? I don’t want you to miss it, being on the phone.’

I think of Sabrina and I have an overwhelming feeling for her not to be alone. I see her as a little girl again, her serious pale face lit up by the white light.

‘Now, please, if you don’t mind.’

I feel like I’ve blinked and Lea is back. I was lost in a thought but now I can’t remember what that thought was. Lea’s breathless and I feel bad for nearly making her miss the eclipse. Of course she’s excited about a thing like that. She should have gone on a date to watch it, if she could have got the time off, and I’m selfishly glad she didn’t. The others would have waited until after the eclipse to get my phone.

I dial Sabrina’s number.

‘Dad,’ she answers immediately, on the first ring. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

I smile. ‘I picked up on your thoughts. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she says, distracted. ‘Hold on, let me move away for a minute so I can talk.’

‘Oh. You’re not alone then?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I was hoping you weren’t. I know Aidan and the boys are camping.’ I feel foolishly proud of myself for sounding like I remembered such a fact, when I didn’t. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m sitting on the hood of a car in the middle of a field in Cavan.’

‘What on earth?’

She laughs and it’s light.

‘Are you there with friends?’

‘No. But there’s plenty of people around watching it. It’s one of those official viewing places.’

Silence. There’s more to it, and she’s not telling me.

‘I’m just travelling around a bit, looking for something.’

‘You lost something?’

‘Yes. In a way.’

‘I hope you find it.’

‘Yeah.’ She sounds distant again. ‘So how are you? Are you in a good spot to see the eclipse?’

‘I’m great. I’m sitting outside on the lawn with everyone eating cakes and drinking fizzy drinks, watching the sky. I don’t think we’re in the correct path, whatever it’s called, but it’s keeping us all busy. I was thinking though while waiting, something today reminded me of an incident when you were two.’ It was Lea’s smile that triggered the memory, Lea’s dimples that would fit miniature marbles, and I thought of the marbles because of the pouch in Sabrina’s hand this morning. ‘Don’t think I ever told you about it.’

‘If I did something bad then I’m sure Mum told me.’

‘No, no, she never knew about this. I didn’t tell her.’

‘Oh?’

‘She had to go out on an errand one day, a doctor’s appointment, or maybe it was a funeral, I can’t quite remember, but she left you with me. You were two. You managed to get your hands on some marbles that you found in my office.’

‘Really?’ she sounds surprised, interested, so eager, surprisingly so as that isn’t the high point of the story. ‘What kind of marbles were they?’

‘Oh, tiny ones. Miniature ones. It’s getting darker here, is it happening there too?’

‘Yes, it’s happening here. Go on.’

‘Is that a dog I hear howling?’

‘Yes, the animals are getting nervous. I don’t think they’re happy with the situation. Tell me more, Dad, please.’

‘Well, you put the marble up your nostril. Right or left, can’t remember which.’

‘I what?’ she asks. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Because you were two years old, and why not?’

She laughs.

‘Well, I couldn’t get the bloody thing out. I tried everything I could, so eventually I had to bring you to A &E. They tried tweezers, tried to make you blow your nose, which you couldn’t do, you kept blowing out through your mouth until eventually Dr Punjabi, an Indian man that I subsequently had a few dealings with, did a kind of CPR. He blew into your mouth and pressed your nostril closed and pop, out it came.’

We both laugh. It is dusk now, everyone around me is looking up, glasses on and looking like wallies, me included. Lea sees me and gives me an excited thumbs up.

‘When your mam got home that day you told her that an Indian man kissed you. I pretended I had no idea what you were talking about, that you’d seen it on a cartoon or something.’

‘I remember that story,’ she says, breathless. ‘Our next-door neighbour Mary Hayes said that I told her I kissed an Indian man. I never knew where it came from.’

‘You told the entire street I think.’

We laugh.

‘Tell me more about the moonie,’ Sabrina says.

I’m taken aback by her question. It unsettles me and I don’t know why. I feel uncomfortable and a bit upset. It’s all very confusing. Perhaps it’s got to do with what’s happening up there in the sky. Maybe everybody feels like this right now. I gather myself.

‘The moonie marble,’ I say, conjuring up the image in my mind. ‘An appropriate story for today, perhaps that’s why it came to mind. I was looking for a particular type, but couldn’t find it, could only get the miniature ones. A box of two hundred and fifty of them, like little pearls, and they came in a wonderful glass jar, like an oversized jam jar. I don’t know how you got your hands on one. I left you for a moment, I suppose, or wasn’t watching when I should have been.’

‘What did the marble look like?’

‘You don’t want to know about this, Sabrina, it’s boring-’

‘It’s not boring,’ she interrupts, voice insistent. ‘It’s important. I’m interested. Tell me about it, I want to hear.’

I close my eyes and picture it, my body relaxing. ‘A moonie marble is a translucent marble, and I suppose what I like about it is that when a bright light casts a shadow on it there’s a distinct fire burning at its centre. They have a remarkable inner glow.’

And it’s odd, and I feel so odd, in this unusual moment when the sun has faded, disappeared behind the moon in the middle of the afternoon, that I realise why it is exactly that I hold on to my ma’s photograph. It’s because, just like the moonie, you can see her fire burning at her centre, and that in anything and anyone is something to behold, to collect and preserve, take it out to study when you feel the need of a lift, or reassurance, maybe when the glow in you has dimmed and the fire inside you feels more like embers.

‘Dad? Dad, are you okay?’ she’s whispering and I don’t know why she’s whispering.

The moon has passed the sun entirely and the daylight has returned again. Everyone around me is cheering.

I feel a tear trickle down my cheek.