Page 76 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

Chapter Thirty-Five

William

Maria was awake today. How long she had been awake, no one had noticed. But the nurse said that she had been awake since breakfast at least and that she had even eaten all of her meal. The waking times were promising, the doctors said. The more she is awake, the better she is recovering. The nurse had fed her hot oats that morning and her cup of tea given in a child’s sippy cup. Shame they didn’t put whiskey in it for her. That would bring her around. But she had taken the tea. One shaky hand reaching to hold the cup. She had managed it mostly. Except for one tremor in her hand that had made her drop it, but that could be down to her normal rather than the stroke. She wasn’t one for being able to hold things still.

She was sitting up. Well not actually sitting, more that she was propped up and hadn't slipped down to the side. She was watching the television. One of those shows where the toothless moron comes onto the stage telling the world how she doesn’t know who the father of her baby is.

Maybe William’s life would have been different if his father had made it. If he had loved his family more than he loved the bottle. What a different life William could have had. Or maybe his father would have ended up like this too. Another burden on his life that he had to deal with because society saw the biological link as an obligation.

Hadn’t William paid his dues to her?

Hadn't he paid in blood and tears for his existence?

God knows, he had tried so many times to claim a damn refund. They could have his life back.

Maria hadn't looked at him, not once. Not even a flinch for her to say that she knew he was there. But it wasn’t that she was in a trance, she was watching the television and her lip moved in reaction to the idiots she was seeing. She smiled, her eyes lit up, her brows furrowed. She had somehow managed to shut the world out of her head; the world including William. It had been a long time since she had done that. Just the expression on her face … it reminded him of the first time … the first time he was what? He couldn’t even think the words let alone say them. The first time she had sat there and not helped him. The first time her client had wanted him and her. The first time.

Did she not realise that it was so wrong that he could even term it, the first time?

Irony. That’s what this was. Fucking irony and fate getting together and asking, “just how can we fuck William over today?”

All those years. All those times that he had needed his mother’s help. His mother’s love and compassion and she had greeted him with that same, shut the world out face.

But now it was his turn. She needed him. She needed his help and his compassion. Was this some form of testing? Being given the chance to turn his back on her just as she had done to him so many times?

He gripped onto Rosie’s hand, trying not to crush her fingers in his. But he needed her there. He needed the grounding and the thought of something safe to hold him into place. And god, she hadn't left. Not even after yesterday. Not after the things he had said. She was still here.

It made him want to go to Maria and whisper fuck you in her ear. She had been wrong. For once in her life, yes, Maria Carter had been wrong.

William leaned against the wall closest to the door. Rosie by his side. From where he stood he could smell the fruitiness of her shampoo. That and the scent that was Rosie. If he could have, he would have slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him like a mental shield to protect him from this new phase of his life.

The door pushed open and in walked a woman, maybe Maria’s age. Such a different life. She shook William’s hand and Rosie’s. “Hi there. I am Rebecca Travis, your mother’s social worker. We talked on the phone.”

“We did,” William confirmed.

“We just need Dr Steiner and her nurse to come and we can get on.” She handed both William and Rosie a stapled booklet. “This is what we will be going through. It’s just standard stuff. Have these and then you can follow along.”

William flipped through the pages. Hundreds of them. It was like every assessment he had ever had done on himself. How strange it was that for a change, it wasn’t his name pointed at the top of the page. There were sections for everything. How her cognitive abilities were, her memory, her eating, her bathroom usage. They were about to analyse every damn thing Maria could or couldn’t do, it seemed.

Rebecca took herself to Maria, standing straight, a smile on her face. “Hello there, Mrs. Carter. We met yesterday.”

Maria made no attempt to respond or even look at her to say she had seen her.

“We’re going to make an assessment of your needs.”

Still nothing.

“She does that sometimes,” William said feeling like he needed to explain. Like when he was younger and his mother wasn’t interested and he had to make excuses. He was the master at that. Top of his class in covering for the embarrassing shit. “She has the ability to just focus on one thing and not lose attention.”

“I wish I had that,” Rebecca said, smiling.

When the nurse and the doctor came in, they all greeted William and Rosie like they were important. Shaking their hands, saying who they were. But William could see through it. He could see the façade of it. They didn’t give one shit if he was there and neither did his mother. Maybe he should have gone home like Rosie had said it was okay to do.

“Shall we begin?” Rebecca said. They instructed that they’d go through the booklet, one page at a painful time and score everything. They would all agree a score, and William would be asked if he agreed with what they agreed with as if he had any qualifications to make such conclusions. At the end, her overall care score would be found and they would make plans based on what procedure said.

William imagined what his evaluation would look like. Page 43, William throws himself in the sea. Page 67, William cuts too deeply. Page 89, William is a qualifiable nutcase and should be housed in the farthest facility from civilisation as possible.

As they went through the pages, marking off things like, could Maria use the toilet by herself? Could she administer her own medication? William’s stomach began to slowly fill with dread and fear. Like it sensed the storm was coming. He noticed the corners of Maria’s lips. Tight. Was she fighting a smile?

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