Free The Not So Secret Emails Of Coco Pinchard by Robert Bryndza Page A
Authors: Robert Bryndza
am trapped in an Ingmar Bergman film. I’m looking out into the grey drizzle whilst Daniel plays mournfully on the piano downstairs.
Monday 2nd March 16:30
TO: [email protected]
Nothing has changed. They have put even more machines around your Nan’s bed so now only two of us can be in her room at a time. I’m sharing shifts with Tony; your Dad is going in with Meryl. It doesn’t look promising.
Tuesday 3rd March 19:00
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
I held Daniel’s hand on the way home in the taxi tonight. The latest news from the Consultant is bad. He doubts Ethel will ever wake up, she was starved of oxygen for twelve minutes.
They have placed Electrodes on her temples but there was little sign of brain activity, not even when we put on her favourite, The Jerry Springer Show . The Hospital has started talking about the ‘option’ to switch off her ventilator.
Rosencrantz has just come home from classes and lit up one of my cigarettes. I didn’t say anything. Ethel would be proud, her saying has always been, ‘cigarettes maketh the man.’
Meryl is mopping the kitchen floor. Again. Tony is outside in the gloom oiling the Tandem and Daniel is playing some dark dramatic Rachmaninoff on the piano.
Wednesday 4th March 23:56
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
Thank you for the Lilies that you both sent. Ethel would have loved them, but flowers aren’t allowed in Intensive care. When we got back from the Hospital tonight we opened some wine and all sat in living room looking at old photos of Ethel. She was scowling in most of them, even the ones from her own wedding. The only picture we found of her looking happy was taken in 1949, when she won a ballroom dancing competition at the Catford Working Men’s Club. She looked like a different person, young, beaming in a slim elegant gown next to Daniel’s Dad. I asked them why she never smiled.
Meryl told us Ethel had had all her teeth out after the war and that the false ones she was given were too big.
“Why didn’t she get smaller ones?” asked Rosencrantz.
“Couldn’t afford to,” said Daniel. “Then when Dad died and left her with two small kids and no money, life was hard. I suppose she got used to not smiling.”
The Hospital had been pushing us all day to make a decision about turning off Ethel’s life support. After more tests, it is almost certain that she will never wake up. We opened more wine and it felt like a horrible version of Jury duty, discussing the pros and cons of keeping Ethel alive. In the end it came down to the fact that she told us on many occasions,
‘If I’m a vegetable, switch me orf, don’t faff, and don’t waste the lectric bill dithering.’ A cloud descended over the room as we realised we had made the decision.
Meryl, Tony, and Rosencrantz drifted off up to bed; Daniel and I were left alone. One lamp was glowing and the fire was beginning to die down. The rain rattled on the roof. He leant over and topped up my wine glass.
“Could I get some warder?” He said.
“Oh Daniel, drop the accent,” I said. “You sound like a bad Cliff Richard impersonator.” I went into the kitchen, and when I came back with a glass of water, he was crying. He took a long drink and wiped his eyes.
“I thought Mum would live to see her four score and ten.” I put my arm around him.
“You want to know why I did it? Why I cheated on you?”
“We don’t need to do this now,” I said.
“I don’t want to end up like my Mother. Bitter, miserable and never achieving anything,” he said. I asked him how shagging a twenty year old would help him achieve something.
“She needed me.”
“I didn’t need you?” I said, hurt.
“Yeah, I’ve gone and you’re fine”
“I am not!”
“Mum said you’ve been living the life of Riley, out on the tiles with Chris, Marika enjoying this house, which I could never have bought you, no matter
Monday 2nd March 16:30
TO: [email protected]
Nothing has changed. They have put even more machines around your Nan’s bed so now only two of us can be in her room at a time. I’m sharing shifts with Tony; your Dad is going in with Meryl. It doesn’t look promising.
Tuesday 3rd March 19:00
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
I held Daniel’s hand on the way home in the taxi tonight. The latest news from the Consultant is bad. He doubts Ethel will ever wake up, she was starved of oxygen for twelve minutes.
They have placed Electrodes on her temples but there was little sign of brain activity, not even when we put on her favourite, The Jerry Springer Show . The Hospital has started talking about the ‘option’ to switch off her ventilator.
Rosencrantz has just come home from classes and lit up one of my cigarettes. I didn’t say anything. Ethel would be proud, her saying has always been, ‘cigarettes maketh the man.’
Meryl is mopping the kitchen floor. Again. Tony is outside in the gloom oiling the Tandem and Daniel is playing some dark dramatic Rachmaninoff on the piano.
Wednesday 4th March 23:56
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
Thank you for the Lilies that you both sent. Ethel would have loved them, but flowers aren’t allowed in Intensive care. When we got back from the Hospital tonight we opened some wine and all sat in living room looking at old photos of Ethel. She was scowling in most of them, even the ones from her own wedding. The only picture we found of her looking happy was taken in 1949, when she won a ballroom dancing competition at the Catford Working Men’s Club. She looked like a different person, young, beaming in a slim elegant gown next to Daniel’s Dad. I asked them why she never smiled.
Meryl told us Ethel had had all her teeth out after the war and that the false ones she was given were too big.
“Why didn’t she get smaller ones?” asked Rosencrantz.
“Couldn’t afford to,” said Daniel. “Then when Dad died and left her with two small kids and no money, life was hard. I suppose she got used to not smiling.”
The Hospital had been pushing us all day to make a decision about turning off Ethel’s life support. After more tests, it is almost certain that she will never wake up. We opened more wine and it felt like a horrible version of Jury duty, discussing the pros and cons of keeping Ethel alive. In the end it came down to the fact that she told us on many occasions,
‘If I’m a vegetable, switch me orf, don’t faff, and don’t waste the lectric bill dithering.’ A cloud descended over the room as we realised we had made the decision.
Meryl, Tony, and Rosencrantz drifted off up to bed; Daniel and I were left alone. One lamp was glowing and the fire was beginning to die down. The rain rattled on the roof. He leant over and topped up my wine glass.
“Could I get some warder?” He said.
“Oh Daniel, drop the accent,” I said. “You sound like a bad Cliff Richard impersonator.” I went into the kitchen, and when I came back with a glass of water, he was crying. He took a long drink and wiped his eyes.
“I thought Mum would live to see her four score and ten.” I put my arm around him.
“You want to know why I did it? Why I cheated on you?”
“We don’t need to do this now,” I said.
“I don’t want to end up like my Mother. Bitter, miserable and never achieving anything,” he said. I asked him how shagging a twenty year old would help him achieve something.
“She needed me.”
“I didn’t need you?” I said, hurt.
“Yeah, I’ve gone and you’re fine”
“I am not!”
“Mum said you’ve been living the life of Riley, out on the tiles with Chris, Marika enjoying this house, which I could never have bought you, no matter