Iza's Ballad Read Free Page A

me behind.’
    She sank down on the bed and gazed at him.
    She had been nursing him for months, day and night, to the point of exhaustion, but now she didn’t feel the least bit tired and could start the whole process afresh if only she could take him home, even as he was, in his sad open nightshirt from which his ribcage emerged, higher up than she expected. Seeing what had become of his body she might even be able to hold him in her lap. She should never have let him out of her sight. Iza meant well in bringing him out here, meant well for them both, but she still shouldn’t have allowed it. Perhaps if it were she herself who had been beside him these last few weeks he might have lived a little longer, but it was Lidia who had nursed him, Lidia who changed his bed every day, Lidia who did everything. Lidia was precise, patient and kind, but could she tease him and get some more food into him; could she mock him the way Iza did, telling him there was nothing wrong with him, that he was simply old? Could Lidia hush his choked words of complaint? ‘I shouldn’t have let him enter the clinic,’ thought the old woman. ‘Because he has left me like this now, unaware of my presence, without a word of goodbye!’ She bent down and kissed him. Vince’s brow was dry and smelled of medication. She sat down beside him and held his hand.
    About noon Dekker looked in and Lidia returned. Antal was no longer in the room; she hadn’t even noticed him going. Dekker was there only for a moment and she thought Lidia had gone with him but the girl hadn’t moved. She was by the window, level with the bed, watching them from there. It bothered her having a strange pair of eyes on her so she turned her back, but then, not seeing her any more, she immediately forgot there was someone else there. By that time only Vince’s hair was still alive, a few stubborn locks of his white mane. She felt neither tired nor hungry and was unaware of the passage of time. She straightened her back. It hurt having constantly to be leaning over.
    In the afternoon Vince spoke.
    She thought her heart had stopped. It had been so silent till then, so infinitely silent it seemed she was surrounded by a solemn impregnable wall of silence that would permit no voice. His body trembled as he spoke, even his eyelashes trembled. She leaned to his mouth to catch whatever he was whispering. Lidia was there, also listening, and on seeing the face of the younger woman beside her she suddenly felt angry and downright hostile. She hated Lidia now, felt she was pushing in, that she was soulless. You see, Antal has gone and Dekker too. They are sensitive people. What do you think you are gawping it? Are you deaf? Can’t you hear the sick man is calling for water? Why don’t you move? She just stands there gawping at Vince without moving at all. She should be leaping up, getting a glass of water from the bedside table that had been totally cleared by someone; Vince’s glasses were gone as well as his cup and his little pencil stub. But somewhere inside she was rejoicing because the nurse didn’t know what to do and it was only she who could hear Vince’s words, she who knew what he wanted, she who could get him something to drink – even now, she could still do something for him. She poured water into the glass and raised Vince’s head, putting the glass to his lips.
    The mouth wouldn’t open and a look of something like disgust, something distinctly unpleasant, flickered across his face. Vince did not drink.
    ‘He’s not thirsty,’ whispered Lidia. ‘Don’t try making him drink.’
    She could have hit the nurse for saying that. Who was she to look down on her like some kind of god, to be giving her instructions and taking the glass from her hand? And in the meantime that voice again, that strange hoarse breathing. But why won’t he drink if it’s water he wants?
    ‘I’m here,’ said Lidia aloud.
    At first she thought the nurse was addressing her and that made