Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [116]
Now that I have only my thoughts that I may think, without ever having to express them, the last scrapings of my senses. Light, dark, heat, voices, open doors, wind. The ruin that Agaat helps me to inhabit. A squatter in my own body. Wind-blown settlement. A perilous freedom.
So she would be able to spend the rest of her earthly days writing down what she went through with me. If I provisionally have the advantage, that’s only because I won’t live for long enough to read her writings one day.
She’d be capable of putting my head in a clamp to force me. Specially intended for my eyes. Niche market.
There she is dialling the number in the passage now, she sits down for the conversation. She’ll dissemble more if she thinks I’m sleeping.
This is Agaat, she says. Her voice comes out low.
She clears her throat. Lower the girl.
This is Grootmoedersdrift, Nooi Beatrice, Agaat speaking.
That’s better. In her place. Sharp and clear. The soul of innocence. The brownest servant in the land.
Morning, Nooi, how are you, Nooi?
No, so-so, Nooi. Nooi, I want to ask if you can help me, Nooi. I must get to town tomorrow, Nooi, with Dawid. I want to ask if you could come and watch over Ounooi here for a few hours, please Nooi.
Watch over. Masterly choice of words, Agaat.
What was that, Nooi? No, I must buy all sorts of things, at the chemist and from the shop. And I must arrange things with the printer, for the cards and the programme as the ounooi wants them all for the funeral.
Yes, there’ll be many people, Nooi. If everybody comes it will be close to a hundred people, we’ll have to stir our stumps, Nooi.
Stir our stumps. Lord. Is she making it up, perhaps? Perhaps she wants the farm exchange to hear. Perhaps she’s talking straight into the monotone of the dialling tone.
No, Saar and Lietja wouldn’t know, Nooi, they’re farm people, they’re unwashed.
You’re right in there, my old body-servant, all the way to my neighbour’s wife’s tonsils you’re in.
Yes, everything in order here, Nooi, just last night we almost had a mishap. No, the slimes, the slimes, you know, go and settle under in the lungs, as you know she can’t cough for herself any more.
No, I knock it to the top as doctor taught me, then I remove it with a little suction pump, I know how to by now. Doctor was here, yes, he gave oxygen. We have oxygen here now.
Yes, he showed me how.
Not much, about two hours at a time, but then I get up, then I look.
How do you mean now, Nooi?
No, Nooi, the ounooi plays along very well, she knows I must do it all, she understands.
Yes, Agaat, she lies here and she understands. And she listens to the price you have to pay there on the telephone for a simple neighbourly favour. Old vulture’s beak smacks as she devours the line. Feed her, Agaat. Feed her till she’s gorged.
Agaat lowers her voice. She coughs.
No, quite clear. Completely conscious still.
No, doctor says you can’t do more at home than I’m doing. He says otherwise she must go off to hospital.
That really wouldn’t work, Nooi.
No, I just know, she doesn’t want to. She signed the papers.
She doesn’t want the machines on her. She thinks doctor wants to prescribe to her how. How she must, you know Nooi, how she must . . . go before . . .
Agaat shifts her weight on the stool. The boards creak in the passage. She is quiet for a long time. Would she be patting her cap to make sure that it’s seated properly? Would she be concentrating on the floorboards?
No, says Agaat, she would never, she’s too obstinate, she wants to do it herself.
I’ll watch well, Nooi Beatrice, you know don’t you, we know each other, the ounooi and me, we’ve come a long way together. She only wants me here.
No, I understand her, Nooi, she still wants to see everything, she wants to hear, I know, she still wants to taste and everything.
No, I just know. No, she can’t, not a word, but I look at her then I know.
Yes, Nooi, please, Nooi. As early as you can, yes, Nooi. Eight o’clock, half past eight. There’ll be breakfast here for you, Nooi.
Yes,