The Last Goldfish by Anita Lahey

Author:Anita Lahey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Biblioasis
Published: 2020-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

I planned my evening schedule as follows: History, English, a quick dinner, back to the hospital. Clear CAT scans or not, Louisa was still stuck there till her infection cleared up and her swollen leg was back to normal. Before leaving our unit, I called to ask what she wanted me to bring. As I jotted a list, she mentioned that her name was spelled wrong on the chart hanging on the end of her bed.

“How’d they spell it? With an e? That doesn’t inspire confidence.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Didn’t the nurse last time keep calling you Louise?”

She didn’t seem bothered. But I was. Wasn’t the medical profession supposed to be precise? Yet they couldn’t get the patient’s name right? I got out our tin of crayons and drew her name in big colourful letters on a piece of construction paper. I slipped it into one of the binders she’d asked me to bring and grabbed a roll of tape.

I carried two backpacks; the first, laden with Lou’s binders and notebooks, was strapped to my shoulders. The other, her small green knapsack, I held by its handles like a shopping bag. Into this sack, as per her instructions, I’d stuffed Lucky the Care Bear, the giant Tweety nightshirt that was a gift from her father (his nickname for her was Tweets), some track pants, and a sweatshirt. She’d only been in the hospital two nights but had already spilled grape juice on all the clothes she’d brought, including my camp T-shirt. The clocks had just turned back, and night had fallen early. The hospital entrance to which I was headed was near the end of a poorly lit street with narrow sidewalks. I kept a brisk pace, hugging the curb to avoid the recessed doorways of abandoned shops. I took comfort in the signs nailed to the lampposts: Quiet! Hospital Zone.

Lou was on the sixth floor, in a room adjacent to the nursing station. She was sharing with an older woman, who was asleep. Lou motioned for me to be quiet. I firmly taped my homemade nameplate to the end of her bed. Then she led me down the hall to the TV room. We shut the door. We had an agreement with the nurses, who knew all about far-away Glen and Lou’s career goals—which lately had to do with hosting her own TV show, à la Valerie Pringle—and even a little about me. So long as we disturbed no one, we were free to ignore regular visiting hours. In here, we could be as noisy as we wanted. Sometimes the nurses came in to see us. If they ordered pizza, they offered us some. I didn’t know whether this was normal behaviour for nurses or not. I liked to believe Lou had charmed them, not that they pitied her for being young.

Lou was still wearing the purple-stained T-shirt and pink track pants she’d had on earlier. I’d never seen her in a hospital gown. If she had warning that

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