Beyond

Chapter Three

Chapter ThreeMy dream from last night has stayed with me ever since I woke up. Jenna was trying on different wigs. We were all with her in the wig shop: Mum, Dad, Roscoe, Kent and I. Though it wasn’t like a nice, normal shop. It was dark and there were different mirrors everywhere, like ones you get in those Fun Houses at fairs. We were all reflected everywhere but we were bigger, smaller, longer, thinner. We didn’t look like us.

‘I like this one.’ She decided on long, straight black hair with a fringe. It couldn’t be more different to her short caramel curls. She placed the wig on her bald head and, behind her, a giant spider appeared. It was covered in fur, with a hundred eyes looking this way and that. Its eyeballs were entirely black.

‘Good choice,’ it said in a cracked whisper which echoed through the mirrored room. ‘Here we are.’ It reached behind one of the mirrors and pulled out a long, black coffin. Jenna climbed in.

‘No!’ I shouted. ‘What are you doing?’ Mum, Dad and Kent were all smiling and waving. Their reflections were too.

‘Get out of there, Jenna!’ I called desperately. She smiled and waved at us all and then lay down. The spider pushed the lid down and it shut with a snap.

‘Al? You’re quiet this morning.’ Mum pats me on the head. Well, everyone’s quiet this morning. Aside from being incredibly freaked out when I found a spider in the bath, Jenna’s going to the hospital at eleven and we’re all going with her. Mum has walked me through the day a thousand times.

‘We’ll get there for eleven. Have a bite to eat, a coffee maybe; obviously Jenna’s not having anything. There’ll be some checks, final blood tests, et cetera. We’ll stay with her until she goes in. To the…’

She always falters at that part. Basically, today is The Day. Not The Chemo Day, that would be after. The Operation Day. No one knows for sure exactly how long it’ll take. But what we do know is that Jenna will be in hospital for at least three days, maybe longer. And once she comes home there’s no going to college, no going to work, no going to parties. She’s to stay at home and rest, rest, rest until… until she gets better?

‘Is Jenna up yet?’ I ask, suddenly really wanting to see her. I know we’ll be together in the car and at the hospital, but that’ll be with everyone else. I’d like to see her on my own.

‘Go and check,’ Mum suggests. I run upstairs but pause outside her room for a minute. I don’t normally go in there and for a moment I’m worried. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What am I even going to say to her? We’ve been rubbish at talking ever since the announcement. Maybe we were rubbish at talking before, too.

I dunno. I wouldn’t say we’ve ever been particularly close siblings; she is way older than me, after all. And she can be really grumpy. And she sneaks out of the house sometimes and makes me promise not to tell Mum and Dad. And sometimes she makes me give her petrol money if she’s giving me a lift.

But Jenna’s also funny. She always makes me laugh. And smart: she’s studying hard and she’s going to University next year to do Engineering. And she’s caring as well: she always gets me the best Christmas presents. As far as sisters go, I wouldn’t swap her for another. She’s a good person.

So why is this happening to her?

‘Jenna?’ I knock carefully. I hope I’m not waking her up. She won’t be happy.

‘Come in,’ she calls.

I push open the door. She’s sat on her bed, holding a mirror and plucking her eyebrows.

‘Are you really plucking your eyebrows?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘Before you’re going to hospital?’

‘Sure am!’ She puts the tweezers down and smiles at me. It feels like a sort of sad smile, though. ‘Come sit.’

I perch on the end of the unmade bed and look around. She’s changed some things since I was last in here. Some of her posters have been taken down and replaced with lots of photos. Photos of her and Kent, family photos, photos of her friends. Some of them are of places she and Kent have been on holiday. They’ve been to lots of places. The next one on Jenna’s list is America. I wonder if they’ll ever make it.

Kent went to Boston with his family last year, and Jenna begged and begged to go as well but Mum said she just couldn’t afford her ticket. So a few weeks after, Kent surprised her with a trip somewhere—Germany, I think. He made me film her reaction when she opened the tickets and Mum posted the video on f*******:. Jenna literally cried with happiness. She’s always happy when she’s with Kent.

‘You okay?’ she asks me, snapping her mirror shut.

‘Yeah.’ I feel myself growing a little hot. What did I even come in here to say?

‘I’ve got my bag all packed,’ Jenna says, gesturing to a large suitcase on the floor. ‘Pyjamas, magazines, books, iPad… Any other suggestions?’

‘Roscoe?’ I make a feeble attempt at a joke; although if she was to take Roscoe for real I think I’d have a meltdown.

She laughs. ‘I’ll miss him. But he needs you to take care of him. Not a sick, weak—’

‘You’re not weak,’ I interrupt her. ‘Not really. You’re strong, Jenna. If you’d never have told me, I might not have even realised you’re poorly. You act fine every day. You’re really brave.’

Jenna smiles again, but her eyes are watering. Damn, now I’ve upset her.

‘That’s not to say… I mean, you’ve always been brave,’ I rush on. ‘And everything’s going to be fine, isn’t it?’

‘Thank you, Alex.’ She reaches over and squeezes my hand. She’s wearing rings and it hurts a bit, but I don’t mind. I wait for her to say more but she doesn’t.

*

The hospital smells weird. And it’s small. We’re all in this little room with a huge bed waiting for Jenna to go and have her surgery. She’s had to get changed into one of those nightie things. Kent said she looks like she belongs in a mental asylum. Mum didn’t find that joke funny.

‘Well, I’m going to get a coffee. Coming, Cindy?’ Dad squeezes out of the room. Mum rolls her eyes but follows. We all know Dad is rubbish in these awkward situations. And he’s probably hoping to find something stronger than a coffee.

‘So how long will it take, exactly?’ I ask, hoping it won’t be very long. I don’t like the thought of sitting in this smelly room for hours.

‘Not sure,’ Jenna replies. ‘Depends on how much… stuff they’ve got to take out.’

I shudder involuntarily at the thought of some masked man taking Jenna’s insides out.

‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to stay here,’ she says. ‘Kent will be here when I wake up and then I’ll text Mum and you guys can come and see me. If you want to, I mean. If not, I’ll be here for days, so no rush.’

I consider this. She’s right, she won’t be alone; Kent will be here. And it means I don’t have to wait in the smelly room.

‘All right,’ I shrug. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘Of course.’

There’s a bit of silence and I’m not sure if they want me to leave or not. I don’t know where exactly Mum and Dad are, though, and the thought of wandering around on my own freaks me out.

‘Right. Jenna?’ A nurse has appeared in the doorway. She’s holding a clipboard and she’s got a pen behind her ear. ‘We’re going to take you down in a couple of minutes.’

‘Okay. Thank you.’ Kent says. I think Jenna has forgotten how to speak all of a sudden. She’s staring at the wall with tears in her eyes. The nurse nods and leaves and, as she does, I feel my stomach sink all the way to the floor. This is it.

‘It’s all right,’ Kent soothes. He’s stood up and is stroking Jenna’s hair. ‘It’s all right. It’s what needs to be done.’

I know I should be trying to comfort her too, but my feet are stuck to the floor. That’s my big sister; my big, brave, clever sister, crying in a hospital bed. And there’s nothing I can do to help her.

‘Darling, darling!’ Mum and Dad are back. Mum throws her arms around Jenna and holds her tight. Dad stands in the doorway, holding his coffee.

‘We’ll see you very soon,’ Kent assures her, planting a kiss on her forehead. ‘And then you’ll have your own personal maid for your every need.’ He curtseys.

‘You’re such a brave girl!’ Mum cries, tucking a strand of Jenna’s hair behind her ear. ‘Just a few hours and it will all be done. It will all be fine.’

The nurse is back in the doorway behind Dad, dithering awkwardly. Mum catches sight of her and takes a deep breath.

‘We love you, Jenna. Okay? We love you and we’ll see you very soon.’

We all shuffle awkwardly into the corridor and out of the way, watching while two nurses manoeuvre Jenna in her bed past us and through a set of double doors. She looks back and waves, a determined smile on her face.

‘Love you!’ calls Kent.

‘Love you!’ call Mum and Dad.

I wish I’d said that, too.