The Sandman

118

It’s morning, and Jurek is striding along on the running machine. Saga can hear his heavy, ponderous breathing. On the television a man is making his own rubber balls. Colourful spheres are floating in various glasses of water.

Saga is feeling a mixture of emotions. Her self-preservation instinct is telling her she ought to avoid all contact with Jurek, but every conversation she has with him increases her colleagues’ chances of finding Felicia.

The man on television is warning viewers against using too much glitter, because it can spoil the ball’s ability to bounce.

Slowly Saga walks over to Jurek. He steps off the running machine and gestures to her to take over.

She thanks him, gets up and starts walking. Jurek stands alongside watching her. Her legs are still tired and her joints sore. She tries to speed up, but is already breathing laboriously.

‘Have you had your injection of Haldol?’ Jurek asks.

‘Had it the first day,’ she replies.

‘From the doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he come in and pull your trousers down?’

‘I was given Stesolid first,’ she replies quietly.

‘Was he inappropriate?’

She shrugs her shoulders.

‘Has he been in your room more times?’

Bernie comes into the dayroom and walks straight over to the running machine. His broken nose has been fixed up with white fabric tape. One eye is closed by a dark grey swelling. He stops in front of Saga, looks at her and coughs quietly.

‘I’m your slave now... fucking hell... I’m here, and I shall follow you for all eternity, like the pope’s butler... until death do us part...’

He wipes the sweat from his top lip and seems unsteady.

‘I shall obey every—’

‘Sit down on the sofa,’ Saga interrupts without looking at him.

He burps and swallows several times.

‘I shall lie on the floor and warm your feet... I am your dog,’ he says, and sinks to his knees with a sigh. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Go and sit on the sofa,’ Saga repeats.

She’s walking slowly on the machine. The palm leaves are swaying. Bernie crawls over, tilts his head and looks up at her.

‘Anything, I’ll obey you,’ he says. ‘If your breasts are getting sweaty, I can wipe—’

‘Go and sit on the sofa,’ Jurek says in a detached voice.

Bernie crawls away instantly and lies down on the floor in front of the sofa. Saga has to lower the speed of the machine slightly. She forces herself not to look at the swaying palm leaf and tries not to think about the microphone and transmitter.

Jurek is standing motionless, watching her. He wipes his mouth, then rubs his hand through his short, metal-grey hair.

‘We can get out of the hospital together,’ he says calmly.

‘I don’t know if I want to,’ she replies honestly.

‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t really got anything left outside.’

‘Left?’ he repeats quietly. ‘Going back is never an option... not to anything, but there are better places than this.’

‘And probably some worse.’

He looks genuinely surprised and turns away with a sigh.

‘What did you say?’ she asks.

‘I just sighed, because it occurred to me that I can actually remember a worse place,’ he says, gazing at her with a dreamy look in his eyes. ‘The air was filled with the hum from high-voltage electricity wires... the roads were wrecked by big diggers... and the tracks full of red, clayey water, up to your waist... but I could still open my mouth and breathe.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That worse places might be preferable to better ones...’

‘You’re thinking about your childhood?’

‘I suppose so,’ he whispers.

Saga stops the running machine, leans forward and hangs over the handles. Her cheeks are flushed, as if she’d run ten kilometres. She knows she ought to continue the conversation, without seeming too eager, and get him to reveal more.

‘So now... have you got a hiding place, or are you going to find a new one?’ she asks, without looking at him.

The question is far too direct, she realises that at once, and forces her face upwards, forces herself to meet his gaze.

‘I can give you an entire city if you like,’ he replies seriously.

‘Where?’

‘Take your pick.’

Saga shakes her head with a smile, but suddenly remembers a place she hasn’t thought of for many years.

‘When I think about other places... I only ever think about my grandfather’s house,’ she says. ‘I had a swing in a tree... I don’t know, but I still like swings.’

‘Can’t you go there?’

‘No,’ she replies, and gets off the running machine.