The Blind Eye (26 page)

He could not see himself
. She had whispered those words,
not wanting Rudi to hear her doubt in his judgement.
He did not choose the right remedies, and there was nothing I could do
.

By the end of the day, she was clearly exhausted. Dark rings bruised the pale skin under her eyes, and her hands were unsteady as she held the drops to her father’s mouth. Silas offered to take over while she slept.

I want to help
, he urged.

She looked doubtful.

Please
.

One last dose in an hour and then just keep him cool
, she instructed.

She cleared the books from where they had been piled on top of the sagging divan and lay down, her black hair silky still like the sea at night, her violet eyes finally closed, her breathing deep and even. Silas just watched her. Barely aware of Rudi, he wanted only to drink in this moment of being able to observe her, unobserved, of being able to let himself sink, deep, into the sight of her stretched out, this close to him.

He realised he must have dozed off after he had given Rudi his drops, parting his lips with the tip of his fingers so that he could insert the pipette, his skin dry like sand, because when he woke, Rudi’s eyes were open and he was staring at Silas.

I have failed
, and he reached for Silas, trying to draw him closer to the rancid smell that came from his mouth.

Silas shook his head, wanting to calm him as Constance
had done, but he was unable to find the words.

Look what I am leaving her
, and Rudi waved his hand aimlessly before it crashed back down to his side.

Silas could see Constance stirring. She was there in the darkness, only feet away. He could lift her hair, its weight falling heavy against his finger and kiss her, her cheek cool beneath his lips. He did not want her to wake and take over, dismissing him as she had done so often before.

Rudi’s hand grasped his wrist. His words were a hiss in the quiet.
She does not know the world
.

Silas told him to hush.
This is where she has wanted to be
, his whispered attempt at reassurance falling unheard.

Rudi needed a drink but when Silas offered him water, he only shook his head.
A drink
, he repeated, and although Silas, too, would have liked some of the whisky that he knew Rudi kept next to the stove, he ignored his request.

I didn’t want to be alone. When they all went, I didn’t want to be alone
, and Rudi’s words were filled with such self-pity that Silas flinched, the flannel now dripping water onto the floor, trickling between his fingers, as he stared at Rudi in dismay.
When they wanted to take her, I stopped them
, and he turned his head to where Constance was lying, asleep.
All my notes, they are not what I have found, they are her words, they are what she knows. When she was young, I could teach her, I did teach her, and there were others, people who understood our work. Not from there
, and he groaned as he attempted to wave his hand
in the direction of the town.
People from the outside world. Now there is no one. She has no one
.

Silas looked over to the divan but he could only just discern her shape, the smooth curve of her, one long arm trailing down to the ground, the velvet of her skin, just her hand, milky white in the light of the moon. When he turned back to Rudi again, his eyes were closed and his forehead felt slightly cooler.

Silas was exhausted. As he stood up slowly, she stirred. Her face was turned in his direction and he could see her eyes glistening in the dark; she was not quite awake and not quite asleep, uncertain in that moment as to who he was and what he was doing there.

He’s all right
, Silas whispered, wanting only to lie close to her and to feel her healing wholeness.

She turned over.

And not even thinking to ask, he just curled up into the small space next to her, unable to even look at her, as he breathed in the life that emanated from her limbs. With one arm around her, he drew her close, not daring to feel surprise at the lack of resistance in her body, and he buried his face in the darkness of her hair.

Love me
, he would have whispered; in fact his mouth was open, ready to form the words,
love me
, a desperate plea that came from such an aching emptiness, but then she turned.

They were almost lilac, her eyes, paler in the moonlight, wide open and remote in their unseeing gaze.

He will be better
, and her breath was cold on Silas’s cheek as she spoke.
I can heal him
.

How could he tell her that what she believed was impossible? He said nothing, and in that moment, lying there with her, Silas wanted to believe she was right. She could heal Rudi, she could heal him, she could do anything.

6

Silas took Belladonna for three days, morning, noon and night, the drops sweet underneath his tongue, his eyes closed as he swallowed, his faith uncertain as he waited.

Each day as he walked to the library, the autumn mornings cool and fresh, the grass in the parklands damp beneath his feet, clear diamonds of light sparkling across the harbour, he was aware of a sense of agitation quickening. Because there was, he told me, a whisper of change, tangible, promising, but impossible to hold.

The terrible burning in his heart had not ceased, but when it came, which was infrequently, he no longer doubled over in pain, unable to move. He would feel it drawing in, pulling tighter, and he would brace himself for an unendurable wringing, only to feel immense relief at the slow easing that followed, his breath remaining stable as he realised he would be all right, this time he would be all right, and he would place his hand on his chest, grateful for yet another reprieve, yet unable to see it as anything more than just that, a temporary reprieve.

Silas told me how he had been feeling when we had our next consultation. He also told Greta a day later.

I’ve been worried about you
, he said when he turned up at her apartment early one Friday evening.

It had been two weeks since she had sat opposite him, two weeks since she had told him her story, and she had not seen him since.

I’ve been
, he did not know what the word was, and he drummed his fingers on the door as he searched for it,
anxious, I suppose
.

Her body was blocking the entrance as she told him how busy she had been,
getting everything onto disk
, and her tone was defensive despite the smile.
I would have been in touch
.

She could see he felt awkward trying to conduct this conversation at her door, and as he said he had missed seeing her around, she knew he was hoping to find a welcome in her face that would ease him, but there was only resistance.

I guess that’s the way it will be, now that I’ve almost finished
, and she could not look at Silas, not for long.

Later, when she told me how she had greeted him, she said that it was because she felt like such a fool.
And so afraid of liking someone again
.

When Silas asked if he could come in, she stepped back, still without looking at him, telling him she only had a few moments, she had to go out.

He went to sit and then, seeing her face, decided against it.

Can I get you anything?
she asked, making a show of gathering together her money, phone and a coat.

Silas just shook his head and for a moment neither of them spoke.

Then he told me
, and Greta smiled at the shamelessness of Silas’s lie,
that he had a message for me
. She looked at me.
He said you had asked after me, that you wanted to get in touch
.

She remembered how she had been angry with him. She had not understood. She had thought for a moment that he was just being cruel, that it was some kind of joke.

Are you trying to be funny?

No
, and he stood up, the hurt on his face now so nakedly obvious that she felt ashamed of her behaviour.

It wasn’t the way I had wanted it to be
, she told me.

In the silence that followed, she took one step towards him and then stopped. She could see he did not understand her reaction to his presence, and she did not know how to begin to explain.

There was a slight breeze through her window and as the curtain lifted, she attempted to still it, the cloth falling beneath her hands. She heard him take a deep breath, the inhalation of someone trying to find calm, and when she faced him again, he was looking directly at her.

Is it because we talked?

She turned her gaze to the ground.

It wasn’t so bad. What you did
. Silas’s voice was gentle.
Not in the scheme of things
.

She twisted the ring on her finger, still unable to face him, and then she let her hands fall to her side.
Yes it was
.

In the early evening, with the trees swaying against the window, they finally moved towards each other.

I’ve missed you
, and their eyes met. His grin was sheepish as he felt her soften.

With the curtain dancing around them, she could feel his hand on the soft curve of her breast as he unbuttoned her shirt. She was surprised to find she was helping him, her fingers knotted in his, her velvet skin warm against him, her breath sweet and smoky in his mouth, her eyes still on him as she slid her hand into his jeans, rolling them off as she told him that she, too, had missed him, both of them fearing that the other would pull away, that this hold would be broken at any moment.

Later, when her room was dark and the night sky was black outside her window, she asked him if he was going to tell her his story.

What do you mean?
He was shivering, suddenly aware of how cold it had become.

Your tale. What happened to you out there
.

Silas had moved away from her, despite the fact that she was the only warmth in the cool of that night. He was sitting up now and she realised he was going to go. She could
see his clothes illuminated by the street light, lying in a heap on the floor, and he reached for them, the scars on his arm vivid in that one strip of yellow.

As Greta watched him put on his T-shirt, she tried to joke. What he had done couldn’t be that bad in the scheme of things.
Honestly
, and she attempted to laugh, suddenly nervous as she realised she did not know if she was, in fact, capable of hearing what she had asked to be told.

Silas couldn’t look at her.

With his hands clasped around his arms, he sat with his back turned towards her. It was the ridges in his spine that she stared at, each knot visible through his T-shirt, as he began to speak.

He couldn’t face me
, she told me later.
Not until he had finished
.

And then he left. Standing by the front door, he made her promise him one thing.
Call him.

Who?
she asked.

Daniel
.

Greta said nothing.

I know he would like to hear from you
.

She told him to go. She would see him again soon, and under the glare of the corridor lights, he tried to kiss her, but she moved away, closing her front door on him before he had even made it to the lift.