Juliet Butler - The Less You Know the Sounder You Sleep

Masha had rolled her eyes, like she does, in a good-natured way and said, ‘What’s it like to be separate, babulya ?’ The woman had looked confused. ‘How would I know? I’ve always been like this.’ And Masha had laughed and said, ‘There’s your answer then.’

She hadn’t left though, she’d kept staring and staring at us, even though we were talking to Father Alexander and ignoring her, and then finally she asked it: The Question. Everyone’s Question:

‘How will you die?’

Father Alexander frowned at her, shook his head and waved her away until she finally drifted off. After that, we sat there on the bench for maybe ten minutes, not saying anything while the crows cawed. Then I’d looked at him. He knows about death. He’s a priest.

‘How will we die?’ I’d asked. I felt Masha tense.

‘Well now, dochinka ,’ he’d said. ‘When one goes, the other will follow soon enough.’

‘Will it be painful?’ we’d both asked together.

‘No no. The doctors will give the surviving sister a sleeping draught. That way you will go together.’

We’d thought for a bit and then Masha had asked, ‘Where to?’

He’d smiled gently and stroked the heavy gilt cross hanging round his neck amongst his black robes. ‘The Lord put you on earth to suffer the trials of hellfire and you have been through them. You have earned your place in Heaven with the ones you love.’

‘But hang on, Father,’ Masha had said, and pointed up at the sky. ‘Are we still going to be Together up there?’

He’d paused for a moment, then said: ‘No, no. You’ll be separate. You have separate souls.’

Masha snorted. ‘ Khaa! Well, I’m not letting her out of my sight. She’ll run off like a rabbit as soon as she gets through the pearly gates, looking for her precious Slava. And then I’ll be spending all of eternity charging after them.’ And we’d all laughed.

But I still didn’t get my answer.

I look across at her. She’s finally fallen asleep. She’s breathing heavily, but she seems to be OK. Everything’s going to be OK. Perhaps it isn’t a heart attack? Perhaps it’s just… bad indigestion? Yes, that’s what it is, she’s going to be fine. Just fine. She’s tough. She won’t die. Not my Mashinka. I lie back on my pillow. She’s zhivoochi. We both are.

I asked Joolka once what sort of life expectancy conjoined twins had, and she said it was hard to say as there are so few of them – probably only six unseparated adult twins in the world. Chang and Eng, the original Siamese twins were in their sixties when they died, and that must have been hundreds of years ago. We’re not going to die. Not us, no we’re not going to die…

I look across at her again. She’s grey and waxy. But if Masha does , if she does die… then what will happen to me? I don’t mind death. I’d want to die if she’d gone, but how? How? I want to know. Why has no one ever explained to us? I’d rather she died first because she’d be lost without me.

I want to talk to her, I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, but I mustn’t wake her. Let her sleep. Yes, yes, let her sleep. My heart’s pounding in my chest, hard, fast and strong, but hers is fluttering back to me in weak little bursts.

I lean over towards her, I want to press my cheek against hers, to kiss her, but we’re too far apart. I strain to get closer, to hear her breathing. Has she stopped breathing? Oh God! I put my fingers on her neck and can still feel the jumpy pulse. I keep my fingers on her neck and stroke her ear and her cheek with the back of my hand. She likes that. I stroke and stroke…

I open my eyes as the pink morning light is coming over the balcony and see the lemon tree, Lyuba, sitting out there all forlorn. We forgot to take her in last night. Masha will be upset. I turn to her. She’s breathing heavily and slowly. I sit up and shake her arm gently.

‘Mashinka? We left Lyuba out.’

She doesn’t wake. I shake her again harder this time and bite my bottom lip. ‘Mashinka, wake up.’ I bite so hard I can taste blood. ‘Mashinka… we left Lyuba out.’ She still doesn’t move. I know she’s asleep, I can feel it, but it’s a different sleep, it feels heavier. Much heavier. I shake her again, harder. ‘Wake up, Mash. Wake up !’ But she lies there like a rag doll. I have to get help. She needs to know about Lyuba. She really, really needs to know about her. ‘I’m sorry, Mashinka, I’m so so sorry. She’ll survive, I promise you she will.’ I lean over her, pick up the phone and call the duty nurse number again. Someone answers, a man, Viktor Yanovich I think, one of the duty doctors. Yulia must have gone off duty without even bothering to come and see us.

‘Viktor Yanovich, it’s Dasha Krivoshlyapova! Masha’s unconscious, I can’t wake her up. Quick, oh please, please, come quick! I think she’s had a heart attack!’

‘Calm down. I have three emergencies on the go here. I’ll get there when I can.’ He puts the phone down.

I dial Aunty Nadya’s number.

‘I can’t wake her up! She won’t wake up! And the duty doctor won’t come!’

‘Shush, shush, I’ll call him myself, I’m just on my way. Keep her warm, Dasha, cover her with blankets, don’t panic, I’m on my way, I’m taking a taxi.’

I lean back and stare helplessly at the ceiling. Then I reach back and start banging on the wall behind us with both my fists. ‘Help! Help! Somebody help me!’ But the thumping just reverberates with a stupid dull, clumping sound around our isolated room at the end of the corridor with no one next to us. It echoes off our big TV and our fridge and our pretty wallpapered walls. ‘Help! Is anyone there? Anyone? Help!’ Olessya’s room is four doors down. Can’t she hear me screaming in her head? Please, please, hear me. I sit back up, panting and stare at Masha’s sallow face. Then I grasp her round the back of her neck, shaking her. ‘Wake up! Help me, Masha! Wake up!’ But she lies there, heavy and sagging, her heart flickering like a sputtering flame to me as I beat hard and fast to her. She’s dying while I’m trying to get her to live. Mashinka! I remember the bolt from her when she read that letter about Slava’s death. A lightning bolt straight from her heart to mine. And how many times has my heart jolted through to hers? Surely it’s jolting now, jolting hers back into life? Why, why won’t they come?

What seems like hours later, Aunty Nadya bursts into the room. ‘Dashinka! Dashinka! Don’t worry, I’m here! Where’s the doctor? Where is he?’ She runs to the phone, almost falling over the armchair. ‘Viktor Yanovich, Viktor Yanovich! Get in here this instant, this is a medical emergency! Viktor?’ She looks at the phone. ‘He’s put it down the svoloch! Svoloch !’ She gets up. ‘I’m going to the medical room, stay here!’ She storms out and ten minutes later she’s back.

‘There’s no one there. No one in Administration either, except a little bitch who says they don’t have the authority to call an ambulance until Zlata Igorovna gets in. And she’s not in until eleven this morning. That’s not for another hour! This is a nightmare, a nightmare! I’m calling the hospital.’

Aunty Nadya rings hospital after hospital but no one will come without permission from the Sixth Administration. Then she goes rushing out again to look for Viktor Yanovich. I don’t know how long it is until she comes back with him in tow. He doesn’t even go over to Masha, who’s still lying unconscious. He stands there, in the corner of the room, by the fridge, with his hands in the pockets of his white doctor’s coat, looking sullen, while Aunty Nadya shrieks at him.