I Love It When You Visit
by
Kendal Coombs

“That Ben boy across there that you talked to that time, well he went off his nut the other day,” she starts. “You know he’s got that thing, that, schizophrenia?” Hush hush nana. “You know what that is don’t you?”
She has a funny way of talking to me and interrogating me at the same time, always testing me on what she’s said so she knows I’ve been listening. I’m always listening. I love her stories. She never went to school but boy can she tell a story.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Like Russell Crowe in A beautiful Mind.” She loves movies. If I ever struggle to explain something to her I refer to a movie. She must have nearly seen them all.
“Yes. Well, anyway, he has these pills that he has to take to stay normal you see and he went off them.” She pauses and clicks her tongue. I use the opportunity to add an astonished “oh?”
“Yes, well, I woke up the other day,” she tells me. “At seven like I normally do you know?” I do. “Well I woke up and I had my breakfast and I’m still in my dressing gown see and there’s a knock on the door. I’m thinking ‘who could this be?’”
“Who was it nana?”
“Yeah, well, I answer the door and you know I nearly died from a heart attack. I opened the door and there was a policeman and a policewoman on my step. My God, you know what I was thinking?”
“I could only imagine nana.”
“Well I’m thinking ‘who in my family would be driving this early?’ Well the police people, you see one was a lady, and she said to me, she tells me not to be alarmed. She says they just wanted to see that I was ok. ‘Well’ I said, ‘I’m fine. Most people are this early in the morning.’ ‘What’s your name?’ she says. ‘Well it’s Joyce,’ I say. You see they went to the other old lady over here too.” She points out the back to the fourth flat in her block. There are four and all but this Ben boy are of the retired age, the age where you all chip in for a newspaper subscription and pass it around so everyone gets a read. “I think because this Ben went a little silly they thought it might have affected us. No but this lady here she saw him out sitting on his door step the other day and she said you could have taken off all his clothes and wrung them out from the perspiration. He wouldn’t hurt any of us though, he’d only hurt himself you see?”
She pauses and clicks her tongue.
“I see nana. Well that’s good.”
“Well the police came back form the lady there and asked me what my birthday was. I said ‘are you going to arrest me for living?’” She had a little chuckle to herself. She liked that call. “He shouldn’t be living over there by himself. His mother came down the other day to look after him. They put him in a mental hospital for a bit you know? I should get back to these curtains.”
She gets up and turns on her iron. Her flat is awash with cream coloured mesh. She’s fixing curtains for her friend, her friend that is young enough to be her daughter. She lets her drive her car if she’ll take her out of town occasionally. She said if she didn’t want to be her adopted daughter she could still be her chauffeur. She always wanted a daughter, I can tell. She likes my sister and I the best out of the grand kids because we’re both girls. I know she’s fixing the curtains for this friend because she told me last time I was here. And the time before that. And the time before that.
“What’s this bag of material here?” She licks her finger and tests the iron while keeping her eyes on me.
“I had it at home and thought I’d leave it here so I have to come over and make something.”
“Oh that’ll be nice. I’ll go buy some buttons and we’ll make some more shorts. I like to know you have clothes, and it’s nice to see you.”
She turns back to her ironing. “I don’t think I cut this straight. I didn’t have much to go by. I’ll have to press a hem into it.”
She’s not talking to me. She’s been living by herself for a while. She says things out loud because it helps her think, she’s not silly enough to actually talk to herself the way I’m sure Ben must when he stops taking his pills. I think she talks to a protégé, especially when she’s sewing, telling them what she’s doing so they might learn. That used to be me almost every weekend. But I don’t live here anymore.
“Do you want to do something today?” I can tell she wants to get out of here so I suggest we go down to the plaza. “Yes. You know the picture of you and Ally?” I know it, she shows me every time I come over here, even though she gave me my own copy. “I always say I’ll take it with me when I go down the street and get a frame, but I always forget it.”
“I’ll remind you this time,” I say.
“Ok. I’ll go and get my bag. I’ll put this back in the spare room… leaving threads all over my carpet.”
She’s talking to herself again.
She comes back out sniffing around the living room for something.
“Where are those shoes I had on yesterday?” She sits down on the sofa near my bag of material and puts her socks on. “Where’d you get all this material from?”
I tell her how I got it free when my cleaned out all her dancing costumes.
“I scored this cardigan the other day…” she trails off, struggling with her first sock.
“Did you see that picture there of you and Josh too? I think there’s a copy for you behind it.”
“No, you already gave it to me.”
“Oh, right.” She’s struggling a bit with her socks. She’s still quite nimble for her age, but she isn’t as flexible as she used to be. I wouldn’t dare help her though. She’s still independent, and there isn’t anyone who is going to tell her otherwise.
“I forget these things some times. You know, it happens when you get to be as old as me.” She puts her shoes on. “That’s warmer with my shoes on. Let’s go get some lunch.”
“Don’t forget your photo,” I say. She smiles.
“Thank goodness you’re here. You know I always say I’m going to take it with me when I go down the street but I always forget to bring it?”
“Oh really? Fancy that.”