Emma Donoghue - Room - A Novel

Ma pulls her clothes off and puts on her sleeping T-shirt. I do mine. She doesn’t say anything she’s so furious at me. She ties up the trash bag and puts it beside Door. There’s no list on it tonight.

We brush teeth. She spits. There’s white on her mouth. Her eyes look in mine in Mirror. “I’d give you more time if I could,” she says. “I swear, I’d wait as long as you needed if I thought we were safe. But we’re not.”

I turn around quick to the real her, I hide my face in her tummy. I get some toothpaste on her T-shirt but she doesn’t mind.

We lie on Bed and Ma gives me some, the left, we don’t talk.

In Wardrobe I can’t get to sleep. I sing quietly, “ ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.’ ” I wait. I sing it again.

Finally Ma answers, “ ‘His name is my name, too.’ ”

“ ‘Whenever I go out—’ ”

“ ‘The people always shout—’ ”

“ ‘There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt—’ ”

Usually she joins in for the “na na na na na na na,” it’s the fun-nest bit, but not this time.

Ma wakes me but it’s still night. She’s leaning in Wardrobe, I bang my shoulder sitting up. “Come see,” she whispers.

We stand beside Table and look up, there’s the most hugest round silver face of God. So bright, shining all of Room, the faucets and Mirror and the pots and Door and Ma’s cheeks even. “You know,” she whispers, “sometimes the moon is a semicircle, and sometimes a crescent, and sometimes just a little curve like a fingernail clipping.” “Nah.” Only in TV.

She points up at Skylight. “You’ve just seen it when it’s full and right overhead. But when we get out, we’ll be able to spot it lower down in the sky, when it’s all kind of shapes. And even in the daytime.”

“No way Jose.”

“I’m telling you the truth. You’re going to enjoy the world so much. Wait till you see the sun when it’s going down, all pink and purple . . .” I yawn.

“Sorry,” she says, whispering again, “come on into bed.”

I look to see if the trash bag is gone, it is. “Was Old Nick here?”

“Yeah. I told him you were coming down with something. Cramps, diarrhea.” Ma’s voice is nearly laughing.

“Why you—?”

“That way he’ll start believing our trick. Tomorrow night, that’s when we’ll do it.”

I yank my hand out of hers. “You shouldn’t told him that.”

“Jack—”

“Bad idea.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“It’s a stupid dumbo plan.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” says Ma very loud.

“But I said no.”

“Yeah, and before that you said maybe, and before that you said yes.”

“You’re a cheater.”

“I’m your mother.” Ma’s nearly roaring. “That means sometimes I have to choose for both of us.” We get into Bed. I curl up tight, with her behind me.

I wish we got those special boxing gloves for Sundaytreat so I’d be allowed hit her.

I wake up scared and I stay scared.

Ma doesn’t let us flush after poo, she breaks it all up with the handle of Wooden Spoon so it’ll look like poo soup, it smells the worst.

We don’t play anything, we just practice me being floppy and not saying one single word. I feel a bit sick for real, Ma says that’s just the power of suggestion. “You’re so good at pretending, you’re even tricking yourself.”

I pack my backpack again that’s really a pillowcase, I put Remote in and my yellow balloon, but Ma says no. “If you have anything with you, Old Nick will guess you’re running away.”

“I could hide Remote in my pants pocket.”

She shakes her head. “You’ll just be in your sleep T-shirt and underwear, because that’s what you’d be wearing if you were really scorching hot with a fever.” I think about Old Nick carrying me into the truck, I’m dizzy like I’m going to fall down.

“Scared is what you’re feeling,” says Ma, “but brave is what you’re doing.”

“Huh?”

“Scaredybrave.”

“Scave.”

Word sandwiches always make her laugh but I wasn’t being funny.

Lunch is beef soup, I just suck the crackers.

“Which bit are you worrying about right now?” asks Ma.

“The hospital. What if I don’t say the right words?”

“All you have to do is tell them your mother’s locked up and the man who brought you in did it.” “But the words—”

“What?” She waits.

“What if they don’t come out at all?”

Ma leans her mouth on her fingers. “I keep forgetting you’ve never talked to anybody but me.” I wait.

Ma lets her breath out long and noisy. “Tell you what, I have an idea. I’ll write you a note for you to keep hidden, a note that explains everything.” “Good-o.”

“You just give it to the first person — not a patient, I mean, the first person in a uniform.” “What’ll the person do with it?”

“Read it, of course.”

“TV persons can read?”

She stares at me. “They’re real people, remember, just like us.”

I still don’t believe that but I don’t say.

Ma does the note on a bit of ruled paper. It’s a story all about us and Room and Please send help a.s.a.p., that means super fast. Near the start, there’s two words I never saw before, Ma says they’re her names like TV persons have, what everybody in Outside used to call her, it’s only me who says Ma.

My tummy hurts, I don’t like her to have other names that I never even knowed. “Do I have other names?” “No, you’re always Jack. Oh, but — I guess you’d have my last name too.” She points at the second one.

“What for?”

“Well, to show you’re not the same as all the other Jacks in the world.”

“Which other Jacks? Like in the magic stories?”

“No, real boys,” says Ma. “There are millions of people out there, and there aren’t enough names for everyone, they have to share.” I don’t want to share my name. My tummy hurts harder. I don’t have a pocket so I put the note inside my underwear, it’s scratchy.

The light’s all leaking away. I wish the day stayed longer so it wouldn’t be night.

It’s 08:41 and I’m in Bed practicing. Ma’s filled a plastic bag with really hot water and tied it tight so none spills out, she puts it in another bag and ties that too. “Ouch.” I try to get away.

“Is it your eyes?” She puts it back on my face. “It’s got to be hot, or it won’t work.”

“But it hurts.”

She tries it on herself. “One more minute.”

I put up my fists between.

“You have to be as brave as Prince JackerJack,” says Ma, “or this won’t work. Maybe I should just tell Old Nick you got better?” “No.”

“I bet Jack the Giant Killer would put a hot bag on his face if he had to. Come on, just a bit longer.” “Let me.” I put the bag down on the pillow, I scrunch up my face and put it on the hotness. Sometimes I come up for a break and Ma feels my forehead or my cheeks and says, “Sizzling,” then she makes me put my face back. I’m crying a bit, not about the hot but because of Old Nick coming, if he’s coming tonight, I don’t want him to, I think I’m going to be sick for actual. I’m always listening for the beep beep. I hope he doesn’t come, I’m not scave I’m just regular scared.

I run to Toilet and do more poo and Ma stirs it up. I want to flush but she says no, Room has to stink like I’ve had diarrhea all day.

When I get back into Bed she kisses the back of my neck and says, “You’re doing great, crying is a big help.” “Why’s—?”

“Because it makes you look sicker. Let’s do something about your hair . . . I should have thought of that before.” She puts some dish soap on her hands and rubs it hard all on my head. “That looks good and greasy. Oh but it smells too nice, you need to smell worse.” She runs over to look at Watch again. “We’re running out of time,” she says, all shaky. “I’m an idiot, you have to smell bad, you really — Hang on.”