Tall Story - Candy Gourlay [31]
And I could tell Bernardo would have been willing.
He loved Michael Jordan. I loved Michael Jordan.
But no. That body. Even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. And of course it was not his fault. I am the blame.
No, no. He was not the blame, poor guy. Just unlucky.
He’s not the blame that I am so totally disappointed.
I was already dressed in my school uniform, pouring some Coco Pops into a bowl, when they finally returned from the hospital.
Dad had already left for his double shift.
Bernardo looked ghastly. He seemed to teeter even more as he stood there, looking down at the breakfast table, so tall his head was in the shadows above the table’s pendant light. Mum’s hair stood on end like she’d just crawled through a bush. Neither of them smelled sweet and I moved upwind of the table to finish my Coco Pops.
She poured Bernardo a bowl of cereal even though his eyelids were sliding down over his eyes every few minutes. He sat down and the chair bowed visibly.
‘So what happened?’ I said. ‘What did they say?’
‘We won’t know until Doctor Grant has had a look at the scans. They sent us home.’
‘You were there all night and they didn’t tell you anything?’
Mum made a face at me.
There was a soft clunk and we realized that Bernardo had fallen asleep, his head cradled on one arm, his spoon in his hair.
Mum clicked her tongue the way she does and gently shook him awake. She escorted him up the stairs to my room. When she came down again fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in her nurse’s uniform, her hair swept back in a professional bun. But her eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion.
‘You’ve got nothing on after school, have you, Andi?’ Mum said. ‘What time do you get home today?’
‘Why?’ I looked at her through veiled lids. She had a guilty expression on her face. This was not a motherly enquiry into my wellbeing.
Mum sighed. ‘Look, I booked the day off but one of the other nurses is sick.’
‘You’re going to work?’
‘I’ll be back after eight tonight. Dad is on that double shift. He won’t be in until after bedtime.’
‘Mum, how can you do that? You had so much time to plan for Bernardo’s first day!’
‘I know, but it can’t be helped.’
I could feel my chest tightening. This didn’t sound good.
‘Anyway, I want you to look out for Bernardo when you get home.’
‘What?’ How was I supposed to look after a sixteen-year-old?
‘Please, Andi. Just keep him company. He doesn’t know where anything is. He’s never been outside San Andres. Look, if you don’t want to look after him, help him. Just help him, Andi.’
‘But, Mum—’
‘He’ll still be jetlagged. He will probably sleep all day. I’ve marinated some chicken in the fridge. Forty-five minutes in a medium oven …’
‘MUM!’ I was supposed to babysit him AND feed him? This was worse than getting a pet.
But Mum was already on her way out, adjusting the little nametag that she wore at the hospital.
‘Thank you, darling, I really appreciate it.’
12
Bernardo
It had been morning when my plane took off from Manila. And it was still the same day when I landed in London, even though I’d been travelling for sixteen hours and, back in Manila, the date had changed.
It was not an exaggeration to say that I had travelled backwards in time.
So? I could imagine Jabby joking about it. You arrived several hours YOUNGER. You have nothing to complain about.
No, but the time-travelling left me … unbalanced. And last night’s rush to hospital did not help.
When the doctors had finished pricking and prodding and weighing and measuring and testing, Mama took me home.
I was so tired I don’t remember much about bedtime except Mama hugging me as I sat on the mattress on the floor. A thought briefly crossed my mind that this was a momentous occasion, my first bedtime in London. But I was so tired, too tired. She stroked my forehead like a baby, then tucked the quilt high under my chin. It pulled right off my feet. ‘Oh, Bernardo,’ Ma sighed. She left and returned with another quilt to cover my legs.
‘Amandolina will be here when you wake