More of the same
It’s been a weird thing, deciding to actually post the initial drafts of the novel. Normally, what you see on the printed page is the result of much revision, editing, and rewriting.
First drafts are generally rough and flawed beasts, written to get the basics down. The author can take solace in the fact that no-one else ever needs to see them, with all their dialogue warts, plot holes, and missteps.
This helps to sustain the illusion that only polished, beguiling prose drips from the authors fingertips, like nectar. (Yeah, right!)
By choosing to post these drafts, I’ve effectively deprived myself of any such cover and that leaves me feeling rather exposed. I’m a bit of a perfectionist you see, and I have a bit too much tied up in maintaining that particular illusion.
So it’s probably healthy for me to push through this barrier, despite the fact that this pithy rationalisation is not doing much to calm my intemperate emotions.
Anyway, here is more of the introductory chapter which continues from where the previous post left off.
Please ignore the man behind the curtain.
Chapter 1: Not Waving, but Drowning [continued]
Cassandra is standing in the the hospital by a nurses station. Her hand aches from Rita holding it too tightly. The hospital has a disconcerting sterile smell. A nurse kneels down in front of her and puts a hand gently on her shoulder.
“Hello, it’s Cassandra, isn’t it?” she asks.
Cassandra nods mutely.
“My name is Beth and I’m looking after your mother.
“She’s in that room over there.” she says, glancing back over her shoulder at a pair of doors.
“You can go in and see her when you’re ready. Would you like that?”
Cassandra nods again.
“She’s been in an accident and she got hurt so –”
“Is this really necessary?” interrupts Rita.
The nurse keeps her eyes on Cassandra and calmly continues.
“So I’m going to tell you what you’re going to see, OK?”
“…OK …” says Cassandra, hesitantly. Rita is squeezing her hand even tighter now.
“Your mother’s head and arm got very hurt.” the nurse says.
“There are some tubes in her mouth connected to a machine which is helping her to breathe.”
“She’s… asleep… now but she was asking to see you before.”
“Do you want to ask me any questions?”
Cassandra shakes her head.
“Would you like me to take you in?”
Cassandra nods.
The nurse stands and takes Cassandra’s other hand and together, they walk through the doors. Her mother is lying on the bed in the centre of the room. Just like the nurse said, her left side of her face is an angry, swollen mess and tubes run from her mouth to a machine which wheezes and sighs mechanically. Her father is sitting by her bedside, with his head in his hands. He stands as they walk in, revealing tears streaked down his cheeks. This is the first time Cassandra has ever seen her father cry. It won’t be the last.
Blink
Cassandra is back at the hospital with her father. Her father is looking haggard and unshaven. It’s been over four weeks and her mother has still not woken up.
Her father looks over at the doctor, swallows, and then nods. The doctor reaches behind the machine and clicks a switch. The bellows in the machine sigh one last time, and are then still.
Suddenly filled with panic, Cassandra breaks free from her father’s hands and runs over to the doctor, hitting him in the back.
“No! Turn it back on!” she screams.
Her father catches up with her, wrapping his arms around her struggling body. She twists in his embrace, pounding futilely with her fists on his broad chest. He holds her firmly about the waist, letting her hit him.
“I’m so sorry.” he says, his chest shaking, racked with sobs.
“I’m sorry.” he says again, repeating it over and over, a mantra of guilt.
After countless blows, growing ever feebler, Cassandra strength fades. She goes limp in her father’s arms, her tears mingling with his.
Blink