The State of Me. Nasim Jafry Marie
isn’t right.
When I go outside, the light hurts my eyes.
Dear Ivan,
I am missing you so much, sweet boy. I think about you all the time and want to kiss you right now. Jana and Abas have gone to Bayeux today but I didn’t feel up to going. I’ve been feeling ill and weird. I might have picked something up in the university canteen. The food is fucking horrible. I’m sure they gave us pigeon last week. They covered it with grated carrots to make it seem healthy. Did I tell you that Simone, the landlady, has arranged a wee party for my birthday? It’s funny, ‘cos she’s really tight-fisted. We’re not allowed to use her real coffee, we have to drink the chicory stuff! We’re scared she finds out we’ve binned that poster she had up in our room. It was really ugly and the drawing pins kept falling out. We’ve also hidden the vase with the plastic flowers behind the wardrobe. We couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. I don’t have much more news, I told you everything in last letter. I’m sending you lots of kisses.
Helen xxx
PS. I am wearing your cosy purple tartan shirt and sandalwood oil. It makes me feel near you. PPS. How’s the band going?
I put the letter in my bedside drawer. I wouldn’t send it ‘til I got a reply to my last two.
One morning during a lecture on Voltaire, it just came over me.
Hot twisting cramps.
I thought I was going to shit myself. I bolted out of the lecture hall and ran to the toilet. I sat there for almost an hour ‘til there was nothing left.
I got the bus home and went to bed. I cried myself to sleep. Jana woke me up rummaging for cigarettes in her bedside cabinet.
There’s something wrong with me, Jana, I said. I almost shat myself today in the Voltaire lecture, and the other weird feelings are getting worse. My head keeps going numb.
She came over and sat on the side of the bed. Maybe it’s hormonal ‘cos you came off the pill. We’ll go to the uni doctor tomorrow.
The next day the university doctor took a urine sample and gave me antibiotics for a urinary tract infection that I knew I didn’t have. He assured me that I didn’t have appendicitis and asked if British people had their appendix on the left side like their cars. He told me to come back in a week if I wasn’t better.
We picked up the prescription and Jana talked me into buying a pink lambswool sweater from Au Printemps that I couldn’t afford. You need something to cheer yourself up, she said.
I felt dizzy in the changing room. The spot-light glared above me. It looks great, said Jana, swooshing the curtain back. You’re so lucky you’ve got breasts.
You’re so lucky you’ve got hips, I replied out of habit.
You’re so lucky you’re tall.
You’re so lucky you don’t feel as if you’re dying.
Is it so bad?
Yes. I want to go home.
I’ll come with you.
No, don’t. I’m just going to go to bed.
She went to the Bar de la Fac to meet some Americans she’d befriended and I went home with the nagging pain circling me and the pink sweater folded preciously in floral tissue paper.
I took the antibiotics anyway, Doctor’s orders! When I went back to see him he said my urine was clear and took some blood. He patted my head and said I looked pale. It’s inside my muscle, I said, pointing to the nagging in my spine. I struggled for the correct French preposition. We’ll know more when we get the blood results, he said. Come back in two weeks.
Later, I lay in the bath, scrunching up my eyes, wishing that when I unscrunched them I could be home with Rita and Nab – like Dorothy clicking her magic slippers.
Ivan phoned in the middle of my party and sang Happy Birthday down the phone. He’d sent a card too.
Simone had bought cheap pate from Carrefour that looked like cat food. Abas had bought a cake with bright green icing. Simone’s eyes lit up when he brought it to the table. She was like a magpie. He had made thick black coffee which he poured ceremoniously into tiny cups. It was almost undrinkable. When Abas wasn’t looking Jean-Paul threw his in the yucca plant. I thought Jana would explode. Esther guzzled the sparkling wine she’d brought and told Abas his coffee was trés bon. He beamed.
Why do you sound so sad? said Ivan.
I’m still feeling ill, I said. I’ve been staying in bed. The pain’s still there and the funny feelings. I’m going back to the doctor’s a week on Tuesday.
Hang in there, he said. You’ll soon be home for Christmas. By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you, I got my ear pierced. We used ice and potatoes. It was agony!
You’re crazy, I said. You should have done it properly. It could get infected. Who’s we?
Rez and me.
Abas had put on his favourite tape, an awful, wailing Middle Eastern woman. (He was always singing along to her in his room, completely out of tune.)
What the hell’s that racket? said Ivan
Abas’s music, I said.
Is Abas deaf?
Ha ha. Very funny.
Tell Abas to change it. It’s shite. He laughed and sent a kiss down the phone before hanging up.
I went back to the party.
Ça va avec ton copain? Simone was blinking and beaming, hungry for details.
Oui, ça va, I said.
I hated Ivan for not believing how bad I felt and I hated him for being happy without me and I hated him for slagging Abas.
I wanted to phone him back and tell him how much I missed him.
Let’s go out tonight. It’ll cheer you up, Jana said, recently emerged from the basement. A couple of the Moroccans are having a party on the campus.
If I could go to a party that meant I was fine, so I forced myself to go just to pretend. I wore my new pink sweater. The hosts had made spicy hamburgers and boiled eggs. I sipped on a kir and tried to blend in with the noise, but it wasn’t working. I wasn’t part of this. I just wanted to lie down.
We got a taxi home. Jana went into the kitchen to get some bottled water. She screamed and jumped back from the fridge. Jesus Christ! Whatever you do, don’t look in the fridge, Helen. Just don’t look!
What is it?! Tell me!
The rabbit’s in the fridge! The bastards have killed their pet rabbit, can you believe it?! She was a bit drunk and kept saying, Pauvre fucking lapin over and over again.
I trudged upstairs and started to pack. The rabbit had decided me, I was going home. I couldn’t wait ‘til the Christmas break. I was going now. I packed everything except my French dictionary and umbrella. My case weighed a ton.
Jana and Abas came to the station with me. Abas, mournful in his blue anorak, tried to kiss me goodbye on the lips. Jana said she didn’t think I should be travelling on my own. I hadn’t told Rita and Nab I was coming back. I didn’t want to worry them. Remember to cancel my doctor’s appointment, I mouthed to her from the train.
On the way to Cherbourg, I thought I was having a heart attack. Chest pains, numb face, pins and needles in my legs. I kept staring at my feet to stay calm. I’d bought these blue desert boots for coming to France. I could see myself two months ago – a young woman in