The Quiet Mother

49

The phone rang that night. Eygló was fast asleep, exhausted after being upset almost all day because of her visit with the psychic healer to the girl with kidney disease. As she stirred from sleep and heard the phone, she had the feeling it heralded nothing good.

She shuffled over to the phone on its table in the hall. The ringing was deafening in the silence of the night. She didn’t turn on the light, but hesitated in the darkness. Then lifted the handset.

It was Málfríður.

‘Did I wake you, dear?’ she said as soon as Eygló answered. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be calling like this in the middle of the night.’

‘What time is it?’ asked Eygló.

‘It’s going on four. I thought you should hear about it right away,’ said Málfríður. ‘Kristleifur was anxious and called the hospital again and spoke to the mother. She was still there. The poor woman.’

Eygló didn’t want to hear what came next, but knew that it was unavoidable. She’d accompanied Kristleifur on a few house calls in order to learn from him, but didn’t expect that one of those visits would turn out to be so fateful. That the patient would be in such dire straits. She’d done what she could to help the girl. She was the one who had them call an ambulance and rush her to the hospital.

Eygló envisioned the girl lying in her mother’s bed in the tiny bedroom and the boy lying asleep on the sofa in the living room, not moving a muscle. The mother being so worried about her daughter that she’d rung up not only a doctor on call that night, but also a psychic healer, to see if by any chance it could help her.

‘What happened?’ asked Eygló.

‘The girl died,’ said Málfríður.

Eygló had hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t have to hear this. She’d felt better that evening when she heard that everything seemed to be going well. Now, grief weighed heavily upon her.

‘She’d got a bit better,’ said Málfríður, ‘but then she went downhill again and there was apparently nothing that could be done.’

‘The poor girl,’ Eygló sighed.

‘You did your best,’ said Málfríður. ‘That’s how it goes sometimes, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I wanted you to hear it right away,’ she repeated.

‘Thank you,’ said Eygló. ‘How... how is the mother doing?’

‘She’s devastated, of course, the blessed woman. Kristleifur couldn’t really talk to her, but will probably try to meet her in the next few days. He wanted to know if you’d like to go with him.’

‘I think I’ll skip it,’ said Eygló.

‘He has a high opinion of you,’ said Málfríður, ‘and thinks you can be of use. If you choose to go this route. He said you expressed an interest in it.’

‘I felt more like I was getting on his nerves. Not that it mattered.’

‘Well, no, he got over it quickly. He had nothing but good to say about you.’

‘I’m afraid this isn’t for me,’ said Eygló. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day. The poor girl. Her mother. I don’t think this is something I want to put myself through. I don’t think I have what it takes.’

She was about to mention false hopes, but decided not to. She felt it unnecessary to stir up animosity over such tragic news. Kristleifur was only trying to do his best. As she was, too. As the day passed and then the evening, and now in the middle of the night, she’d realised that she didn’t have the psychological stamina to deal with such visits. An incident like this one cut too closely. She never wanted to live through another day like it.

‘Maybe we can discuss it better later,’ Málfríður continued, after a long silence. ‘Try to go back to sleep.’

‘That’s probably impossible,’ said Eygló. ‘Will you ask Kristleifur to give my condolences to the mother?’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘Now I’ve forgotten her name,’ Eygló said so softly that it could barely be heard.

‘What did you say?’

‘The mother. What’s her name? I’ve forgotten.’

‘Regína, I think,’ said Málfríður. ‘Yes, her name is Regína, poor woman.’