The techno music played, beats thumping fast, the synthesised instruments battling against one another in a dizzying cacophony that only an adolescent male could truly appreciate. A pair of Converse sneakers walked down the hall, through the glass doors, following a monotonous red line up the ramp to the adjacent stairwell.
The walls faded from green to an off-grey—not the most inspiring colour choice. Jim’s eyes tracked the coloured lines that floated along each wall, leading patients to their colour-coded wards and clinics. A green line appeared parallel to the red, then a yellow joined the race. He watched the green disappear down another hallway while the red line continued on. It led him down two more passages before reaching a massive aquarium, a set of plastic seats and a familiar reception area filled with mounted shelving full of files and folders.
Jim waited a moment to see which nurse was on before removing his headphones. Claire, a plump middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a slight German accent called out to him, “Guten Morgen, Jimmy.”
“Guten Morgen, Claire. How are you?”
“Gut, danke. You’re here early.”
He shrugged, “Just hoping to get it over with.”
“Have you been drinking water?” Claire asked flicking through his file. Jim nodded, “Here is your blood test form. You look wunderbar. What’s that team?” Jim removed his hat revealing his hairless head and checked it.
“San Francisco 49ers, they’re an American gridiron team.” She nodded though she clearly didn’t understand and smiled at him, “They’re no Bayern Munich.”
He laughed, “I guess not.”
Jim took the blood test form and put his headphones back on. This time he followed the brown line to the pathology lab. This was the beginning of what would be his last cycle of treatment, the beginning of the end, he mused. He preferred to go through it alone now. In the beginning his mother and father, even his brother, had accompanied him, sat with him as he went from waiting room to waiting room, waiting until finally the drip was put in and the chemo would start its painful descent into his veins. Soon they found excuses; and it wasn’t like he was a little kid. Far from it. His fifteenth birthday was celebrated during the second cycle of treatment and it had been then that Jim had decided this would be something he would do alone. It was bad enough that he felt like shit during treatment days, but watching his family members struggle with it too only made it worse. No, he just had to get up early, organise his water and music, and then he could deal with the day, come what may.
He didn’t flinch as the nurse finally found the vein on the third attempt. Jim was used to being a pincushion and just hoped his arm veins would hold up for the rest of this cycle. Kyle, his older brother, had teased him that they could find veins in any part of the body. His mind wandered to one part of his body he definitely did not want a needle inserted and shuddered inwardly.
After the vial had been labelled and sent off to the lab, Jim headed back to the ward. He ignored the smell of bleach and vomit as he passed the toilets and found the red line again. He wondered what it would be like painting such a boring line. Surely, the painter would have been tempted to move it up or down, thicken it, maybe blend in a more vibrant red. Jim imagined himself painting line upon line of brilliant colours, racing down the hallways, streaking the walls, criss-crossing the colours, blending them until every bit of grey had disappeared. It was a thought. Maybe he would visit this place one more time after his treatment was finished.
He gave Claire a wave to let her know he was back. She waved at him vigorously and then, grinning, pointed to a young girl sitting on the plastic seats. An explosion of red curls, spattering of freckles and sparkling blue eyes beamed up at him.
Jim folded his arms and walked over, “What are you doing here, Hels?”
“Your mum said you might like the company.”
Oh great, his mother had put her up to this. Jim felt himself flush with embarrassment and let the emotion transmute into anger.
“I’m fine!”
“Oh really, Jim? You don’t look fine. Actually, you look like a grumpy old man.”
Self-consciously, he uncrossed his arms then mumbled, “This place will do that to you.” Hels (or Helena) was his best friend, next-door neighbour and a huge pain in the butt, and, if he was honest, probably the coolest girl he knew. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t want her company, it was just embarrassing for her to see him like this.
She looked around, “It’s not that bad. The fish are cool.” Typical Hels, focusing on the positive. They had been friends since kindergarten. He remembered the day her family had moved in next door. A tiny warrior with masses of flaming red hair had ran up to him with wide eyes and a knobbly stick in hand. She demanded he grab a sword and help her fight the ogres. In complete awe, he had followed her commands and they had belted the wheelie bin to within an inch of its life.
Jim cleared his throat, “It’s going to be a long day. I still have to see the doctor then get sorted for chemo, that’ll take ages. Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do?”
Helena shook her head smiling up at him.
“You’ll get bored,” he warned.
She stood up and held up a finger to shush him, “I heard, that’s why I brought…” She held up her bag and unzipped it, “UNO, Travel Scrabble, playing cards, Ludo, dominoes and chess.”
“You don’t know how to play chess.”
“You can teach me.”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t believe my mum put you up to this.”
She shook her head, her messy red curls bouncing all over the place. “She didn’t. I popped over to see you this morning and she said you were here. Then she said you would be really bored so I thought I’d help un-bore you. Look, I also brought you this.” Helena pulled out three tubes of paint. “Yellow, blue, red. And a couple of A5 blank boards. And this cute little paintbrush.”
Jim couldn’t help but gasp. They were oils.
“Oh Hels, wow, where did you get them?” Jim said, already projecting an image onto one of the boards. He imagined hundreds of coloured lines crisscrossing each other just as he had done moments before in the hallway.
“So, I can stay?” she asked.
Jim caught himself smiling and was quick to supress it. “It’s up to you. You sure you want to? Sometimes I get sick.”
“I know. I can hear you over the fence. It’s okay Jim, truly, I’ve seen a lot worse.” Knowing Hels’ brothers, he didn’t doubt it. He knew how tough she was, she wouldn’t flinch before the gates of hell. She was not like other girls. She never worried about clothes or shopping or anything like that. She liked riding her bike and going exploring. Hels was always trying to fix something she had scooped up from a roadside collection. She even helped in her father’s garage, working on vintage cars and motorbikes. But this, this was hard. It was real and someone like her should be protected from this. He promised himself that this would be a onetime thing.
“Fine,” he conceded, then sighed and sat down next to her. Hels grinned victoriously then continued scanning the contents of her backpack eagerly.
“Okay Jim, so what do we do now?”
Jim shook his head and smiled wryly, “We wait.”