Lizzie
‘How did you forget?’ Samantha asked for the fifth time in as many minutes. She paced the hospital room, throwing her hands about as she spoke.
‘I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know how I forgot, I just did.’ A layer of treacle covered Lizzie’s thoughts. She tried to explain through the pain radiating across her temples. Every millimetre of her head hurt. The innermost part of her brain pounded rhythmically outwards, whilst the outside of her skull, neck and shoulders ached, she guessed from hitting the floor. ‘I lost track of time on the flight. I meant to take them when we landed, but then it was too late.’
Lizzie didn’t mention to Samantha that the medication took her on a merry-go-round, spinning her endlessly around and around. Or the fact that until her face had smacked against the cool tiles of the airport toilets, she’d thought they were an impotent gesture, prescribed by Dr Habibi because he didn’t know what else to do for her.
It hadn’t crossed her mind that she’d actually have a seizure, and spend the first day of her around-the-world adventure in a hospital bed. A burst of colours filled the room. Red and blue hues floated across her eyes adding to the fog and the pain.
‘Every twelve hours, Lizzie,’ Samantha said. ‘Not fourteen hours. Not eighteen. You could have been seriously hurt. What if you’d been standing up and cracked your head open on the sink? What if—’
‘I know,’ Lizzie cut in, wincing as the sound of her voice sent a fresh wave of pain through her head. ‘I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m fine.’
‘Okaaay.’ The doctor who’d taken her blood pressure returned to the room, dragging out the ‘a’ sound for a few beats. ‘How are you feeling, Miss Appleton?’
‘Good.’ She nodded, forcing herself to smile through the nausea that sprung up from her head movement. ‘Really good.’
‘I am pleased to hear it. All of your vitals are also good, but we would like to keep you in overnight for observation, and send you for an MRI scan in the morning. This is to make sure nothing has changed, based on what you’ve said about your tumour. Depending on the results of the scan, we may also need to do a lumbar puncture and an EEG.’
He spoke English with a clipped accuracy, pronouncing every syllable with a slight American twang. It made her think of Dr Habibi, her neurologist in London. In the twenty-six years he’d been her doctor, his Persian accent hadn’t softened at all.
‘No.’ Lizzie sat up in bed, and the movement caused the pain in her head to resonate through her body. The colourful blotches turned black, casting the room into shadow. She resisted the urge to scrunch her eyes shut and flop back onto the pillow. Staying overnight in hospital was not an option, and an MRI was out of the question. ‘I really just want to go to our hostel. I forgot to take my anti-seizure medication. It won’t happen again.’
‘Too right it won’t,’ Samantha chided from beside the bed.
If every single one of her muscles didn’t hurt, Lizzie would have reached over to Samantha and squeezed her hand. Samantha’s mothering tone was her way of coping, of regaining control. However hard the seizure had been to go through – conscious but unable to focus, aware but unable to control – it would’ve been just as hard for Samantha and Jaddi to watch.
‘Still,’ the doctor, whose name she’d already forgotten, began, ‘seizures put a lot of stress on the body. Postictal symptoms of a seizure can develop up to forty-eight hours afterwards. You may develop drowsiness, become confused, nauseous, or have another seizure. It would be better if you stayed here so that we can monitor your condition. If you still feel well after your MRI tomorrow, then you can go.’
Lizzie turned her head to Jaddi, who was sitting bolt upright in a chair on the other side of the bed. She looked pale, her features strained. Lizzie hoped her eyes conveyed her silent plea to Jaddi for help, but her movements felt sluggish, as if she was commanding her body to do things through a faulty connection.
‘Excuse me, Doctor Chang … sun … en.’ Jaddi smiled and stood up, stepping towards the doctor and smoothing out the creases in her vest top.
He returned the smile and nodded, before correcting her pronunciation: ‘Chang-sung-noen.’
‘Doctor Chang-sung-noen, it’s taken so much for us to travel to your beautiful country. I’m sure you can understand why Lizzie doesn’t want to stay cooped up in a hospital bed. We’ll take care of her. We’ll make sure she rests for a couple of days. If there’s even the slightest hint that she is unwell, we’ll bring her straight back.’
‘No late-night parties?’ he said.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Okaaay. It’s your choice. I will start the process. Bear with me, please.’ He clasped his hands behind his back and strode away.
The blotches disappeared from Lizzie’s vision. She sighed and looked around her. Her surroundings were just like every other hospital room she’d stayed in – plain walls, polished floors, monitors on tripods with wheels – but when she closed her eyes she could hear Bangkok City buzzing around outside: the high-pitched whir of motorbike engines; horns honking in urgent beeps. She craved to be among the noise.
Lizzie opened her eyes, her gaze falling to Ben, leaning against the wall in the corner. He’d moved his camera down and held it just above the belt of his combat trousers. She couldn’t tell if he was filming them or watching footage he’d filmed earlier. Her seizure, no doubt.
He looked up and met her stare, the corners of his mouth moving into a slight smile. It softened his features, and for the first time, Lizzie noticed a concern in his brown eyes, amplified by the thick rims of his glasses.
She wanted to be angry at him for filming her seizure. Did the man have no decency? But the anger wasn’t there. Only his voice was there, in her head. Deep and calm. Hang in there. You’re going to be fine. Was it a coincidence that the seizure had loosened its grip on her the moment he’d spoken? Or had his words penetrated through the seizure, freeing her from its depths?
When she’d first registered his presence, kneeling on the floor beside her, she’d tried to respond. The question had formed in her mind, but had lost its way, so she hadn’t asked him, How do you know? ‘Holy cow,’ Jaddi said, weaving around a flatbed filled with large sacks of rice. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever sweated this much in my life.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Samantha muttered from the other side of Lizzie.
‘No.’ Jaddi shook her head. ‘Seriously, this heat is crazy. Look at me! I’m sweltering.’
‘How dare you say that to us?!’ Samantha narrowed her eyes as Jaddi tied the bottom of her top into a knot, exposing a toned stomach. ‘You, I will admit, are glowing somewhat in the heat, but us on the other hand –’ Samantha waved a finger between herself and Lizzie, and smiled ‘– look as if we’ve been swimming. My hair is dripping.’
‘Thanks for the compliment, Sam.’ Lizzie laughed, grateful, for once, for her cropped hair, as the excitement of their trip wound its way back through her. ‘Hopefully we’ll acclimatise tomorrow.’
Against the protests from Samantha and Jaddi, Lizzie had insisted that they walk the fifteen minutes to their hostel. She’d needed to absorb something that wasn’t white tiles, toilets, taxis, or hospital rooms. And seeing Bangkok, alive with lights and people in the early evening was exactly what she’d had in mind.
The oppressive humidity had hit them the moment they’d stepped out of the hospital, as if they’d walked fully clothed, backpacks on, into a sauna, the dense air and sweat soaking them in minutes. The humidity had been a shock, but it was nothing compared to the city streets. Four lanes of cars, buses and motorbikes crawled in both directions, the gritty petrol smell of exhaust fumes adding to the stifling air. Noise bombarded them from every direction: the hum of the engines; the clattering of the old buses; the pip pop of the motorbikes; music blaring from radios; car horns; people shouting; shop owners heckling. And yet, through the noise, the throbbing of her headache lessened with every step.
‘Er, hello?’ Jaddi laughed. ‘My hair has quadrupled in size.’ Jaddi lifted a lock of hair up and frowned.
‘That’s true.’ Samantha grinned. ‘Shame the camera’s not on to film it.’ Samantha shot a glance back towards Ben, walking a pace behind them.
When they’d cut down a side road, Ben’s camera had gained him an entourage of young teenage boys, appearing from nowhere, keen to learn what he was doing in their broken English, keener still to touch the lens and try to hold the camera. Ben had been forced to stow the camera away in his bag, something Samantha had delighted in.
‘Hey look, there’s a street market,’ Jaddi said, pointing into a narrow street crammed with stalls and colourful merchandise stretching for as far as they could see and lit by startling neon lights. ‘Wow, it looks amazing! We have to come back tomorrow for a look around.’
‘Why wait?’ Lizzie grinned, already moving towards the crowds and stepping into the street, her eyes feasting on the vast colours and quantity of items now surrounding them. The energy of the city was seeping through her skin and igniting inside her. She sensed Jaddi and Samantha beside her, absorbing the buzzing market that seemed to be enticing them into its depths. The air simmered with whiffs of spices and meats that made Lizzie’s stomach gurgle.
‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ Samantha touched Lizzie’s arm.
Lizzie glanced back at Ben.
He heaved the strap of his camera bag further onto his shoulder – so that it rested on the cushioned strap of his rucksack – and scowled.
Lizzie nodded, her smile widening. ‘Absolutely. Come on.’ All at once she felt like any other traveller. No one knew her history or her future. She had her best friends and she had the world to explore. ‘We can grab something to eat too. I’m starving.’
‘I don’t need to be told twice,’ Jaddi said. ‘Look at all these clothes. I’m in heaven.’
As they moved further into the market and the crowds, Samantha dove towards a table crammed with sunglasses and bags.
‘Oooo,’ Samantha squealed. ‘I want them all. Look at that red one.’ She pointed to a large, dark-red holdall. ‘Tell me that isn’t exactly the same as the Michael Kors I’ve had my eye on for the last year.’
‘You might have to wait.’ Lizzie tugged Samantha’s arm and glanced at the unfamiliar bodies budging at their sides and trying to get closer to the stall. ‘We’ve lost Jaddi already.’
Samantha turned and surveyed the street. ‘No, look –’ she pointed ahead ‘– there she is.’
Lizzie stood on her tiptoes and watched Jaddi dash in zigzags between the stalls.
‘Come on.’ Lizzie laughed. ‘We’d better grab her.’
‘Good point,’ Samantha said. ‘That girl can burn through spending money as quickly as you burn through a pack of jaffa cakes.’
‘Oi!’ Lizzie grinned, following behind as Samantha weaved through the jostling crowd. ‘You know as well as I do that you can never have just two jaffa cakes.’
‘Two? Surely you mean a packet?’
Lizzie laughed as they rushed to catch up with Jaddi.
An hour later, they stepped out of the market and onto a quiet street lined with scooters and motorbikes.
‘Can you believe this place?’ Lizzie said, her words lost amidst the heckles from the stall owners.
‘Where you from?’ a man called to them from a doorway which led through to a shop filled with more clothes.
‘I’m beginning to think,’ Samantha said, turning back to stare at the market, ‘that, “Where you from?” roughly translates as, “What currency should I try to sell you things in?”’
Lizzie grinned and followed Samantha’s gaze to Ben, camera on his shoulder, pushing through a group of women gesticulating widely over a reel of fabric. She hadn’t realised he’d been in the market or filming them. Despite the heat and the sweat cloaking her body she still felt the rush of blood to her cheeks as the lens followed her movements.
‘I have no idea how I’m going to fit this stuff in my backpack,’ Jaddi said, grinning and lifting four bulging carrier bags – the thin kind with the handles already stretched and ready to snap.
‘I’ll help you,’ Samantha said, taking two of Jaddi’s bags for her. ‘I bet you haven’t even Swiss rolled your clothes in your backpack.’
‘Swiss rolled? What are you on about?’
Sam shook her head and smiled. ‘I’ll show you later.’
‘I’m just glad we’ve eaten,’ Lizzie said. ‘That noodle dish was lush, I want to eat it every day.’
‘I bet you won’t be saying that by the end of a whole month in Southeast Asia,’ Jaddi said.
A sudden silence fell over them. Jaddi’s comment hung in the air. A whole month. One month. One third of their trip. Would it be enough? Lizzie wondered, dropping a few paces behind Samantha and Jaddi as they traipsed in the direction of their hostel. Only then did she notice the weight of her backpack on her back and the pain of the straps digging into her shoulders.
‘Here,’ Ben said, zipping his camera back into its case and falling into step beside Lizzie, ‘I got you this—’ He pulled a black watch out of his pocket. ‘It’s not very pretty, but it works.’
‘You got me a watch? Why?’ she asked, turning the square plastic object over in her hands and pressing a tiny black button on one side.
In one swift movement Ben snatched the watch out of her hands. ‘Don’t press that,’ he snapped.
‘Oh.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘Look, thanks and all that, but I’m not really a watch person.’ She shook her head and picked up her pace. On the bathroom floor at the airport, and again in the hospital, she’d thought she’d glimpsed another side to the cameraman. One that wasn’t quite so rude and obnoxious. But clearly she’d been wrong. Why buy her a crappy plastic watch only to snatch it back again?
‘Just wear it, please.’ Ben frowned, handing her the watch again. ‘I’ve set the alarm for eight in the morning and eight at night. Every twelve hours. So you know when to take your medication.’
‘You think I’d forget again? Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ She shoved the watch into her pocket and dropped her eyes to the pavement. The brief feeling of normal she’d felt in the market disappeared.
‘Once we leave Bangkok, getting to a hospital is going to become a lot harder.’
‘Fine.’ The smooth confidence of his voice carried in her head once more. Hang in there. You’re going to be fine. She shook it away. What did he know?
‘Hey, there’s our hostel,’ Jaddi said, pointing at a two-storey yellow building on the opposite side of the road, its colour like a beacon against the backdrop of grey structures that surrounded it.
‘Lizzie,’ Ben said, drawing her gaze back to him, ‘when we get into our rooms, I’m going to get a quick bit of footage of the three of you in your dorm, and then I’m going to need to do some editing and send everything from today back to the studio, so it can go into the first episode on Saturday.’
‘Oh.’ She squeezed through a gap between two parked scooters, her mind racing through the events of the afternoon. Ben had asked her in the hospital if she’d wanted to watch the footage from the restroom, and she’d said no. She didn’t want to see it, but she didn’t want anyone else to see it either. She wished she had a little more, or any, of Jaddi’s guile when it came to getting what she wanted from the opposite sex.
‘And before you ask,’ Ben said, ‘the answer’s no. I send it all. No special cuts.’
‘I wasn’t …’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes, you were. And don’t even think about sending Jaddi to sweet talk me. I saw the full force of her charms with the doctor, and they won’t work on me.’
‘Jaddi’s charms work on all men.’
‘Not me.’ He shook his head. ‘But look, there’s something you can do.’
‘What?’ Lizzie asked, the throbbing returning to the back of her head.
‘Do tonight’s video diary as soon as we get into the hostel. Explain what happened. Reassure the viewers that you’re OK.’
Lizzie’s energy levels dipped as they crossed the busy road to the hostel. So much for normal, she thought again. Then she pictured her parents, settling down on their floral sofa to watch the first episode; her dad on the left with a glass of his home-brewed beer and a packet of smoky bacon crisps, and her mum beside him with a glass of wine or a Horlicks, depending on her mood. How would they feel when they saw their daughter collapsed on the floor? A rush of guilt accompanied the image. She’d put them through enough.
‘OK,’ she mumbled, picking up her pace and catching Jaddi and Samantha as they stepped into their home for the next four nights.
‘You all right, hon?’ Jaddi asked. ‘I’d hug you, but I’m too sweaty, and frankly, so are you.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Ben wants me to do a video diary the minute we get into our dorm room.’
Jaddi nodded. ‘That’s a good idea, so everyone knows you’re fine.’
‘That’s what he said, but …’ Lizzie’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t find the words to voice her frustration.
‘But what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘I tried doing one on the plane and it was all right, but it was weird too, you know? I can’t decide if I should think about it as talking to my mum and dad, or like I’m talking to you guys, or at the however many people watching.’ Lizzie sighed as they stepped into the yellow-walled foyer of the hostel. She wasn’t making any sense.
‘It’s called a diary,’ Jaddi said. ‘Maybe the easiest thing to do is forget everyone else and talk about your day like you’re talking to yourself.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Maybe.’
‘If you run out of things to say, then I can jump in, or better yet, just video Samantha meticulously unpacking her backpack. That alone will get some laughs.’
‘Hey!’ Samantha leant over Lizzie and shoved Jaddi. ‘Our backpacks are our snail shells. Our home away from home. It doesn’t cost anything to be organised.’
‘Of course not.’ Jaddi laughed.
Lizzie smiled and tried to laugh, but the burst of energy she’d felt stepping into the market had drained away, leaving the aftermath of the seizure tainting her thoughts. A desire to sleep overwhelmed her along with relief at having dodged an MRI. Day one, and she was clinging to their dream with a spider’s thread. At this rate they wouldn’t make it to day five, let alone ninety.