Emma Donoghue - Room - A Novel

“The left, please,” I say, getting onto Bed.

There isn’t very much but it’s yummy.

I think I snooze for a while but then Ma’s talking in my ear. “Remember how they crawled through the dark tunnel away from the Nazis? One at a time.” “Yeah.”

“That’s how we’ll do it, when you’re ready.”

“What tunnel?” I look all around.

“Like the tunnel, not an actual one. What I’m saying is, the prisoners had to be really brave and go one at a time.” I shake my head.

“It’s the only workable plan.” Ma’s eyes are too shiny. “You’re my brave Prince JackerJack. You’ll go to the hospital first, see, then you’ll come back with the police—”

“Will they arrest me?”

“No no, they’ll help. You’ll bring them back here to rescue me and we’ll be together again always.” “I can’t rescue,” I tell her, “I’m only five.”

“But you’ve got superpowers,” Ma tells me. “You’re the only one who can do this. Will you?”

I don’t know what to say but she’s waiting and waiting.

“OK.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

She gives me an enormous kiss.

We get out of Bed and have a tub of mandarins each.

Our plan has problem bits, Ma keeps thinking of them and saying oh no, but then she figures out a way.

“The police won’t know the secret code to get you out,” I tell her.

“They’ll think of something.”

“What?”

She rubs her eye. “I don’t know, a blowtorch?”

“What’s—?”

“It’s a tool with flame coming out, it could burn the door right open.”

“We could make one,” I tell her, jumping up and down. “We could, we could take the vitamin bottle with the Dragon head and put him on Stove with the power on till he’s on fire, and—”

“And burn ourselves to death,” says Ma, not friendly.

“But—”

“Jack, this is not a game. Let’s go over the plan again . . .”

I remember all the parts but I keep getting them the wrong way around.

“Look, it’s like on Dora,” says Ma, “when she goes to one place and then a second place to get to the third place. For us it’s Truck, hospital, Police. Say it?”

“Truck, Hospital, Police.”

“Or maybe it’s five steps, actually. Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.” She waits.

“Truck—”

“Sick.”

“Sick,” I say.

“Hospital —no, sorry, Truck. Sick, Truck —”

“Sick, Truck, Hospital, Save Ma.”

“You forgot Police” she says. “Count on your fingers. Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.” We do it over and over. We make a map of it on ruled paper with pictures, the sick one has me with my eyes closed and my tongue all hanging out, then there’s a brown pickup truck, then a person in a long white coat that means doctors, then a police car with a flashing siren, then Ma waving and smiling because of being free, with the blowtorch all fiery like a dragon. My head is tired but Ma says we have to practice the being sick bit, that’s the most important. “Because if he doesn’t believe it, none of the rest will happen. I’ve had an idea, I’m going to make your forehead really hot and let him touch it . . .”

“No.”

“It’s OK, I won’t burn you—”

She doesn’t understand. “No him touching me.”

“Ah,” says Ma. “Just one time, I promise, and I’ll be right beside you.”

I keep shaking my head.

“Yeah, this could work,” she says, “maybe you could lie against the vent . . .” She kneels down and puts her hand in Under Bed near Bed Wall, then she frowns and says, “Not hot enough. Maybe . . . a bag of really hot water on your forehead, just before he comes? You’ll be in bed, and when we hear the door going beep beep I’ll hide the bag of water.”

“Where?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Ma looks at me. “You’re right, we have to figure out all the details so nothing messes up our plan. I’ll drop the bag of water under the bed, OK? Then when Old Nick feels your forehead it’ll be super hot. Will we try that?”

“With the bag of water?”

“No, just get into bed for now and practice being all floppy, like when we play Corpse.”

I’m very good at that, my mouth hangs open. She pretends to be him, with a really deep voice. She puts her hand over my eyebrows and says all gruff, “Wow, that’s hot.”

I giggle.

“Jack.”

“Sorry.” I lie extra still.

We practice a lot more, then I’m sick of being pretend-sick, so Ma lets me stop.

Dinner’s hot dogs. Ma’s hardly eating hers. “So do you remember the plan?” she asks.

I nod.

“Tell me.”

I swallow my end of roll. “Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.”

“Wonderful. Are you ready, then?”

“For what?”

“Our Great Escape. Tonight.”

I didn’t know it’s tonight. I’m not ready. “Why is it tonight?”

“I don’t want to wait any longer. After he cut the power —”

“But he switched it back on last night.”

“Yeah, after three days. And Plant was dead from the cold. And who knows what he’ll do tomorrow?” Ma stands up with her plate, she’s nearly shouting. “He looks human, but there’s nothing inside.”

I’m confused. “Like a robot?”

“Worse.”

“One time there was this robot on Bob the Builder —”

Ma butts in. “You know your heart, Jack?”

“Bam bam.” I show her on my chest.

“No, but your feeling bit, where you’re sad or scared or laughing or stuff?”

That’s lower down, I think it’s in my tummy.

“Well, he hasn’t got one.”

“A tummy?”

“A feeling bit,” says Ma.

I’m looking at my tummy. “What does he have instead?”

She shrugs. “Just a gap.”

Like a crater? But that’s a hole where something happened. What happened?

I still don’t understand why Old Nick being a robot means we have to do the cunning plan tonight. “Let’s do it another night.” “OK,” says Ma, she flops down in her chair.

“OK?”

“Yeah.” She rubs her forehead. “I’m sorry, Jack, I know I’m rushing you. I’ve had a long time to think this through, but it’s all new to you.” I nod and nod.

“I guess another couple of days can’t make much difference. So long as I don’t let him pick another fight.” She smiles at me. “Maybe in a couple of days?” “Maybe when I’m six.”

Ma’s staring at me.

“Yeah, I’ll be ready to trick him and go in Outside when I’m six.”

She puts her face down on her arms.

I pull at her. “Don’t.”

When it comes up it’s a scary face. “You said you were going to be my superhero.”

I don’t remember saying that.

“Don’t you want to escape?”

“Yeah. Only not really.”

“Jack!”

I look at my last piece of hot dog but I don’t want it. “Let’s just stay.”

Ma’s shaking her head. “It’s getting too small.”

“What is?”

“Room.”

“Room’s not small. Look.” I climb up on my chair and jump with my arms out and spin, I don’t bang into anything.

“You don’t even know what it’s doing to you.” Her voice is shaky. “You need to see things, touch things—” “I do already.”

“More things, other things. You need more room. Grass. I thought you wanted to meet Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Paul, go on the swings at the playground, eat ice cream . . .” “No, thanks.”

“OK, forget it.”