All Days Are Night Read Free Page B

father, almost in the doorway.
    The anteroom to the theater was full of people in green scrubs. Gillian tried to pull herself upright to get abetter view of them, but she didn’t manage. She saw the faces from below, surgical masks and oblique eyes under brows that looked more salient from that angle, ridiculous little gauze bonnets. A face bent down over her, friendly eyes with smile lines, and a voice asked her how she was feeling. Always that question: how am I feeling. She tried asking herself others: What’s left of me? And is what’s left more than a wound? Can it ever heal? Will that be “me”?
    Before she could reply, the face had moved away, and the eyes were looking elsewhere. The surgical masks wagged, and she heard sentences she made no effort to understand, instructions spoken calmly and quietly. She could sense the concentration and a kind of happy expectancy. It reminded her strangely of field trips at school. The class met at the station, one person after another joining the group, curt greetings, not a lot of talk. The surgeon said something, very softly. Movements still seemed to be unconcerted, everyone was busy and trying not to get in each other’s way. The anesthetist told Gillian what he was going to do. The green shapes disappeared one after another, and for a brief moment Gillian thought she had been forgotten. That same instant she had a sensation of her legs being lifted, as if she were being shoved into a dark tube and left. She slipped down into the dark, faster and faster, lights whizzed past, sounds were suddenly very near, a bright bell sounded, an echoey voice slowed down beyond intelligibility spoke. Then it got very bright. She felt a hand gently touch her shoulder. The friendly face once more. Gillian’s stomach knotted. She felt hands raising her, a shaking, heard metallic sounds. Lamps slid pasther. Breathing became difficult. Her nose was blocked. She had a nose.
    In the night after the operation, Gillian had nightmares. She couldn’t remember what she had dreamed, but she could feel the nocturnal landscapes through which unseen people were moving, not talking but in some secretive way in communication with one another. If she opened a door, at that same moment the room behind it would come into being, when she turned away, it disintegrated.
    The mirror wasn’t where she had left it. The doctor was holding it in his hand when he walked into the room. He explained to her exactly what he had done, taken some cartilage from her rib area and shaped it into a nose, and then folded over a piece of skin from her forehead and covered it.
    It’s not very pretty just at the moment, he said. And maybe you can’t imagine how it’s all going to heal, but I can assure you …
    She said it couldn’t be any worse than what it was before.
    I’m very pleased with you, he said.
    Why? What have I done?
    You’ve been brave.
    Gillian had the feeling he was playing for time. She held out her hand. The doctor nodded and put the mirror down on her covers.
    In three weeks, the skin should have taken sufficiently for us to sever its connection to the forehead, and then it will look better right away. And in another three months you’ll come back to us. Now you’ve only got another coupleof days here. After the second operation you should be able to work again. Do you have anyone to look after you?
    No, said Gillian, and then on an impulse: Yes, it’s no problem.
    The doctor shrugged. Don’t worry. It’ll all turn out well.
    Breathing was still difficult for Gillian. When she touched her top lip with her tongue she could taste blood and feel the rough gauze. The doctor went away. Carefully she felt for the mirror on the cover.
    Before lunch she called her father in his office. Presumably he wasn’t alone, there was a customer with him or a mechanic. He spoke quietly, and she sensed that he was in a hurry to bring the conversation to an end.
    I was going to visit you, he said, I’ll come and