The Diet of No Return
For a week after Tails’ news, my life stagnated. I’d given up. Didn’t eat—much. As for Sister Salome’s porridge, she could have it.
Sister Salome shoved a bowl of porridge under my nose. ‘It is good porridge! Eat it M-Anni, eat it!’
‘Eat it yourself!’ I muttered curled up on the bed.
‘Your baby needs you to eat.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘What?’
‘About Andreas,’ I said. ‘Is it true?’
Sister Salome cleared her throat. She does that when she’s not quite telling the truth. ‘Officially.’
‘Officially? And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Andreas won’t be coming back, my dear.’
‘Why?’
‘Work it out for yourself.’
‘I can’t, that’s why I’m asking.’ I thumped the mattress. ‘Unless it was you who orchestrated the whole thing.’
‘Min—Anni! How could you!’
‘Easy, considering our discussions on the road trip here. I bet this whole Boris thing is a ruse.’ I paused. ‘Although, I wouldn’t put it past my mother.’
‘Oh, but it is real, my dear. We have our people closing in on the creature, at this very time,’ Salome said. ‘And a more serious situation has arisen. The son of Boris is on the loose. We have to find him. Very grave times. Very grave.’
‘So, your brother could be out there still…’
‘I cannot say.’
‘Then there’s hope.’ At light speed, then on Boris World, Günter’s life would be standing still, while mine moved on rapidly. I had to wait. If I followed, I would end up in a continuous game of time tag. I arrive, and he would have left, maybe only Boris-minutes before. He could arrive back on the Pilgrim Planet, and I could be out searching for him. Anyway, I was only days, maybe a week away from giving birth; the pursuit of Günter was not an option at this stage. Theoretically, the longer he was gone, the more chance that he would not return in my lifetime. However, there was a chance that he would be back. Time, space, black holes and Boris World become rubbery in space and the laws of physics become a law unto themselves. So, I had to wait, and hope and not move on.
‘Please do eat, Anni. This is g-Andreas’ baby, a-and your’s we are talking about. Go on it is very tasty. It is good for you—to eat it,’ Sister urged. I couldn’t fathom why she stuttered as if she had a speech problem.
‘I told you! What part of eat it yourself don’t you understand!’ I buried my head in the pillow to avoid Sister’s force-feeding tactics. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the porridge -laden spoon zoom towards me.
‘Look, what would Günter say if he saw the way you were behaving?’ Sister whispered, the spoon lingering above my cheek.
‘What? Are you doing a candid home movie to show him in twenty years’ time when he finally returns, are you?’
‘Who says it would be twenty years? He could come home tomorrow.’
‘He’s been gone weeks now. I’ve done my calculations—that’s twenty years or more!’
‘Oh, you don’t know that. Space can do funny things. And him too. Don’t underestimate him, dear. Now eat!’
‘As if you care—about us!’ I roared into the feathery down. ‘No! I will not eat! Go away! Leave me alone!’ With that I shut myself off. I pulled the blanket over my head and blocked out all light and Sister Salome.
‘Dear, can’t you see as Anni and Andreas it would’ve never worked. It wasn’t real.’
‘Too late to do the Dr. Phil routine on me!’ I screamed. ‘Get out!’
‘Very well,’ Sister said. ‘Have it your way.’ I heard the bowl touch down on the side table and the spoon go clink as she placed it inside the bowl. I counted the retreating steps as Sister stomped towards the door. The steps stopped and Sister Salome added one last biting comment, ‘But, if you don’t eat by tomorrow, I will be forced to call the doctor who will take your baby by caesarean. Understand?’
‘Fine, then I can go to Boris World and look for Günter myself,’ I mumbled into my bed linen.
‘You won’t find him there.’ Sister Salome chuckled. Then she said softly, ‘Just wait till I get my hands on that blabber-mouth Liesel.’
When I no longer heard her footsteps, I grabbed my voice recorder from under the sheets, saved the last comments and stored them. She had spoken in her ancient German tongue, but I had a translator. I played the results again and again.
The door burst open. I shoved the device under the blankets.
‘You haven’t seen my communicator around, have you?’ Sister Salome eyes wide paced the room picking up pillows, breakfast trays, and the bowl of porridge. Fancy that! Mobile phone detachment anxiety disorder.
I ignored her. Sister Salome’s communicator was stowed under the mattress by me. I had plans for that mobile phone…Who has she been talking to? Günter, I bet… I was glad that Sister Salome’s absent-mindedness had landed me the opportunity to hear what everyone was not telling me, and to try and make sense of it all. Salome never need know I was the “gremlin” that stole her phone and then put it back in an obvious place.
Unsuccessful in her quest to find the lost phone, or communicate with me,Sister Salome left me to my own and her state-of-the-art I-Phone. I stared at the cold porridge. It looked up at me in cold hard lumps saying: “Eat me!” Before I could consider what I was doing I dug into the bowl and scooped a spoonful of grey mass into my mouth. The lumps stuck to the roof of my mouth. I tipped the mattress and retrieved some sugar packets from the base. I sprinkled a few grams of sugar and ate a further few small spoonsful.
Holding Salome’s phone, I tottered to the window. Raindrops splattered on me as I pushed the pane open. I examined the communicator and my options. It rang. I pressed the answer button and put the phone to my ear.
‘Hello?’ A young man’s voice spoke. But not through the phone.
He stood at the door, bandages over his eyes.
‘What?’ I flung the phone out the window. Salome’s mobile smashed into a million pieces onto the path below. ‘Oops!’
[Read the continuation of Chapter 8 on Wattpad…]
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2023
Feature Photo: Murton, Switzerland © L.M. Kling 2014
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And now, for some Weekend Reading…
Go on a reading binge and discover the up close, personal and rather awkward relationship between Gunter and that nasty piece of cockroach-alien work Boris in…
See how Boris seeks revenge in…
And the Mischief and Mayhem Boris manufactures in…
Or if you would like some Aussie Outback adventure…
Check out my travel memoirs, click on the links.
The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977
Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981
Tru-Kling Creations 