Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [35]
He joined her in helping to settle the creature back against the mountain of pillows. His touch was gentler than hers.
“He’s had his share of ‘smacks,’ Mothershead,” he said as they worked. “I expect that’s what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man.”
Finished now she stood back and confronted him. “Perhaps you’ve got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don’t. I’ve got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don’t waste your time with him, sir, it’s like talking to a wall. I don’t mean to be harsh, but he doesn’t belong here. Truthfully, sir, what can you do for him? I’ll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr-Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day, sir.”
She walked straight out of the room without waiting for him to reply or bothering to close the door behind her. Treves closed it himself. When he lifted his head he found himself looking straight at Merrick. The man (if that was what he was) was staring at him, petrified. He seemed incapable of moving himself.
“What good am I to you …?” Treves asked, half to himself.
The creature on the bed gave no sign of having understood. Still that awful silent stare that managed to be terrified and vacant together. Treves was swept by sudden anger at his own helplessness. He was not used to being helpless. He was used to being the man who would act for good, while others stood uselessly by. He suddenly discovered that he was ill-equipped to cope with this new feeling of frustration. Still that stare. He controlled himself and came to sit on the bed.
“I can’t help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling,” he said gently. “I believe there’s something back there, there’s something you want to say, but I’ve got to understand you. Do you understand me?”
After a moment’s hesitation Merrick began to babble again.
“No!” Treves interrupted him firmly. “You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We’re going to show them that you’re not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me!”
He wondered for a fearful moment if that ponderous head could nod without snapping off … but it could, it did … Treves breathed slowly.
“You do understand me!” he spoke slowly. “You understand. Now you’re going to say it. I’ve got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say ‘yes.’ ”
At first he thought he was getting no response and felt a stab of disappointment. Then he became aware that the monstrous lips were fighting to make a shape.
“Yes,” he encouraged.
The eyes that stared back at him were still full of a fearful suspicion. Merrick had learned distrust by long, hard lessons over many years. He would not unlearn it all in a moment now. But as Treves gazed steadily at his patient he thought he detected the first hint of something else in those depths—something that might even be an excitement. The distorted lips came together, parted, and a husky sound issued from the back of the throat. Then, finally, it came; a noise that was little more than a gasp, but with the beginnings of a word buried deep in it.
“Yyyy … yyyye …” Merrick stopped and forced himself to start again. “Yyyyyeeess.”
“Yes, John!” Treves found he was grasping Merrick’s left arm. In his eagerness he had reached out automatically. “Yes,” he repeated.
“Yyyyee … ess.”
“Yyyesss …” Treves mouthed slowly and distinctly.
“Yyyess.” This time the word was almost clear.
“That’s much better,” said Treves emphatically. “I could understand that ‘yes.’ ”
He thought he saw a hint of pleasure steal across the face, but it was hard to be sure. How could those features ever register emotion, fixed as they were in their horrible lumps? But the eyes were gleaming, Treves would swear to that. Was it possible this thing was actually intelligent?
He thrust the thought away from him violently, for if the creature was really clear-headed enough to be aware of his own predicament, then there was no merciful God in the heavens.