Stealing Time by Rebecca Bowyer (bearly read books .TXT) 📗

“He’s safe with me,” Elena told her. “Gonow.”

“No pain?” asked Varya, knowing the answer,but still uncertain.

“No pain.” Elena shook her head. “It’s stilla good day, this long, long everlasting day. Always a goodday.”

Varya nodded and felt the tears gather inher chest.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you.”

Elena smiled slowly. She picked up a smallblack box from the park bench and slipped in into her dress pocket.“I’ll move this back into the apartment for your next visit. Idon’t think we’ll be out here tomorrow.” She waved her walkingstick at Varya. “Now, shoo. Go back to where you came from and takeyour rest.”

Varya inched her way back through theshimmering air. She watched the little boy becoming smaller andsmaller. She closed her eyes and the vista dissolved. She closedher mind and slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chapter eight

“Okay, I’m heading off. You’re all right to takeDaniel to school today?” Zoe swung her handbag up onto her shoulderand picked up her medical bag. Before Varya had left the nightbefore they’d hastily worked out a schedule of drop-offs andpick-ups so Daniel wouldn’t have to walk to and from school byhimself. They were leaving nothing to chance—Ben Williams stillhadn’t shown up. After two days and no word, it was clear he wasn’tgoing to come home of his own accord.

Varya looked up from where she sat on thecouch next to Daniel. The boy watched spaceships fly around thewall screen, shooting at each other, while Varya scanned medicaljournals on the screen on her lap.

“Yes. Yes, that’s fine,” she answered. “I’mstarting late and finishing late. You’ll pick him up fromschool?”

Zoe nodded. “Yes, I’ll get him. I’ll do ashort shift.” She held her hand up to Daniel, trying to get herson’s attention. “See you later, hon’. Be good for Varya.”

Daniel raised his left hand in salute,without taking his eyes off the screen. Zoe rolled her eyes, noddedto Varya, and headed down the hallway. Varya heard the door shutbehind her friend as she headed out for the day shift at the city’spalliative care unit. A good death, a painless death, that’s whatthe goal was. But always death. The children who Zoe cared for werebeyond the point of recovery. There were no extra treatments to tryor experimental programs to get them into. There was no cure, nohope. Only waiting, goodbyes, and a good and painless death.

That’s what they’d told her about Kir fiveyears ago. The tumour was too advanced, it had wrapped itselfaround his tiny heart. Do a transplant, she’d said. Not possible,the surgeons had shaken their heads. Too close to an artery. Toorare. Too many unknown variables. Too young. No hope.

Prepare for a good and painless death.

That was the point at which she’d met Zoe,in that room with the animals and rainbows printed on white walls.The tubes and beeping monitors decorated with brightly colouredcircles.

“How are his pain levels today?” she’d askas she popped in to say ‘hi’ at the start or end of her rounds. Inthe early days they were good, not bad at all. Maybe they couldjust take him home? Maybe Zoe could talk to their paediatrician?Zoe had hesitated, suggested she and Varya grab a drink in thehospital cafeteria while Kir slept.

Yes, Varya could take her son home, Zoeexplained as she stirred her sweetener into a strong, black tea—itwas quickly becoming the new national drink since the coffeesupplies had started to dry up—but things could turn very quicklyand he would be more comfortable at the hospital. Varya could staybeside him. But that tumour, wrapped around the artery. It couldchoke it at any time. It would cause pain to Kir that couldn’t betreated at home. Or the tumour in his brain could rupture, causingseizures. Which, again, could only be treated at hospital.

A rare cancer, they’d been told. Aggressive,sudden, but silent until it had grabbed her son in a chokehold. Nocure. Too fast.

Eventually, Zoe explained, when the painbecame too much for Kir’s tiny body—when, not if, she said—Varyacould ask her paediatrician to slowly increase the morphine in hisdrip, keeping him out of pain. He would become drowsy and calm.Varya would probably have the chance to say a final goodbye beforethey increased the dose a final time and allowed him to slip intohis forever rest.

This was all before Varya decided to takeKir home, despite the medical advice. Before Sebastian said his owngoodbyes and left them.

Varya clenched her fists and glanced acrossat Daniel, willing her heartbeat to slow, her breath to even out.She tried to bring herself back to the present, to connect with thepeople who were still here.

She breathed in one final time and exhaledslowly and audibly. Daniel looked up at her.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered, stretching his skinnyarms above his head.

Varya smiled. This kid, Zoe’s kid, kept heranchored. His long-limbed loping ways were at times painfullyreminiscent of an awkward age that her own son had never reachedbut comforting to have around.

She stood now, placing her screen on the lowtable, and heading out of the small living room to their evensmaller kitchen. Rummaging around in the fridge and pantry, shecame up with a simple breakfast platter of cheese, crackers, anddried fruit. Daniel glanced at it with a frown as she laid it downon the coffee table between. He paused the spaceships on the bigscreen, leapt over the arm of the sofa, thundered into the kitchen,opened and shut a few cupboards, then stalked back into the livingroom with a hunk of dried sausage and a stack of rye bread.

Varya smiled and went back to her screen,perched on a bar stool, chewing on a dried apricot. They sat incompanionable silence for several minutes.

“Varya…”

Varya looked up from the medical journal shewas poring over, surprised to hear Daniel speak her name. Normallyshe was lucky to get a grunt or a ‘hey’.

“Daniel,” she responded in kind.

“What was it like, back when people got old?Like, you know, older than sixty-five?”

Varya was glad he was still looking at thewall screen as she tried to arrange her face into somethingapproaching a suitable adult expression. She cleared her throat butfailed to start. She took a deep breath.