Room_ A Novel - Emma Donoghue [42]
“Is it your eyes?” She puts it back on my face. “It’s got to be hot, or it won’t work.”
“But it hurts.”
She tries it on herself. “One more minute.”
I put up my fists between.
“You have to be as brave as Prince JackerJack,” says Ma, “or this won’t work. Maybe I should just tell Old Nick you got better?”
“No.”
“I bet Jack the Giant Killer would put a hot bag on his face if he had to. Come on, just a bit longer.”
“Let me.” I put the bag down on the pillow, I scrunch up my face and put it on the hotness. Sometimes I come up for a break and Ma feels my forehead or my cheeks and says, “Sizzling,” then she makes me put my face back. I’m crying a bit, not about the hot but because of Old Nick coming, if he’s coming tonight, I don’t want him to, I think I’m going to be sick for actual. I’m always listening for the beep beep. I hope he doesn’t come, I’m not scave I’m just regular scared.
I run to Toilet and do more poo and Ma stirs it up. I want to flush but she says no, Room has to stink like I’ve had diarrhea all day.
When I get back into Bed she kisses the back of my neck and says, “You’re doing great, crying is a big help.”
“Why’s—?”
“Because it makes you look sicker. Let’s do something about your hair. . . . I should have thought of that before.” She puts some dish soap on her hands and rubs it hard all on my head. “That looks good and greasy. Oh but it smells too nice, you need to smell worse.” She runs over to look at Watch again. “We’re running out of time,” she says, all shaky. “I’m an idiot, you have to smell bad, you really—Hang on.”
She leans over Bed, she makes a weird cough and puts her hand in her mouth. She keeps making the weird sound. Then stuff falls out of her mouth like spit but much thicker. I can see the fish sticks we had for dinner.
She’s rubbing it on the pillow, on my hair. “Stop,” I shriek, I’m trying to wriggle away.
“Sorry, I have to.” Ma’s eyes are weird and shiny. She’s wiping her vomit on my T-shirt, even my mouth. It smells the worst ever, all sharp and poisonous. “Put your face on the hot bag again.”
“But—”
“Do it, Jack, hurry.”
“I want to stop now.”
“We’re not playing, we can’t stop. Do it.”
I’m crying because the stink and my face in the hot bag so I think it’s going to melt off. “You’re mean.”
“I’ve got a good reason,” says Ma.
Beep beep. Beep beep.
Ma grabs the bag of water away, it’s ripping off my face. “Shh.” She presses my eyes shut, pushes my face down into the awful pillow, she pulls Duvet right up over my back.
The colder air comes in with him. Ma calls out right away, “There you are.”
“Keep your voice down.” Old Nick says it quietly like a growl.
“I just—”
“Shh.” Another beep beep, then the boom. “You know the drill,” he says, “not a peep out of you till the door’s shut.”
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, Jack’s really bad.” Ma’s voice is shaking and for a minute I nearly believe it, she’s even better pretending than me.
“It reeks in here.”
“That’s because he’s had it coming out both ends.”
“Probably just a twenty-four-hour bug,” says Old Nick.
“It’s been more like thirty hours already. He’s got chills, he’s burning up—”
“Give him one of those headache pills.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying all day? He just pukes them up again. He can’t even keep water down.”
Old Nick puffs his breath. “Let’s have a look at him.”
“No,” says Ma.
“Come on, get out of the way—”
“No, I said no—”
I keep my face in the pillow, it’s sticky. My eyes are shut. Old Nick’s there, right by Bed, he can see me. I feel his hand on my cheek, I make a sound because I’m so scared, Ma said it would be my forehead but it isn’t, it’s my cheek he’s touching and his hand isn’t like Ma’s, it’s cold and heavy—
Then it’s gone. “I’ll get him something stronger from the all-night drugstore.”
“Something stronger? He’s barely five years old, he’s totally dehydrated, with a fever of God knows what.” Ma’s shouting, she shouldn’t shout, Old Nick’s going to get mad.
“Just shut up for a second and let me think.”
“He needs