Some.body

ALEXIS, 20-SOMETHING, IS SITTING IN A MEDICAL BED. HER HAIR IS WET AND SHE HAS A TOWEL AROUND HER SHOULDERS. THE WHITE BEDDING SHINES BRIGHT IN THE OTHERWISE QUITE DARK ROOM. A RADIO PLAYS CLASSICAL MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND.

ALEXIS: Once, I had a body. It was a fairly ordinary body with all the parts that usually belong. You know, head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. The whole kit and caboodle. I didn't particularly like or dislike it. It just was there, doing what it was supposed to. Taking me where I wanted to go. It's not that my body no longer exists, as you clearly can see, but it has changed. I can see it, feel certain parts. At least I think I can feel them. But it could just as well be phantom pains. 

A CARETAKER COMES IN TO THE ROOM. THEY HELP ADJUST ALEXIS POSITION AND PUT WOOL SOCKS ON HER FEET. 

CARETAKER: Alright love, let's put these on. We don't want you to be cold after the pool, right? Your Dad told me your Nan made these, they're beautiful. 

ALEXIS: Itchy. Nan always knitted itchy ones. These probably are too. 

CARETAKER : I think I should dry your hair some more. 

THE CARETAKER TAKES THE TOWEL FROM ALEXIS SHOULDERS AND PUTS HER HAIR IN A TURBAN.

ALEXIS: I wonder if these socks still feels too tight or if the first swipe of deodorant still stings in my armpits? I know something feels uncomfortable, must be those damn socks. 

CARETAKER: Is it okay if I leave the towel like that for a minute?

ALEXIS NODS HER HEAD THREE TIMES AND THE TOWEL-TURBAN WOBBLES SIGNIFICANTLY. 

CARETAKER: Is that a yes or a no? 

ALEXIS: It's an "it fucking itches, don't you get that?" It itches a lot these days. It itches in my will, but nobody understands that. I'm full of scabs that I can't scratch. It's a tearing eagerness that flows forward without finding its way out. Just because the words no longer come from my lips doesn't mean they don't exist. They sit in the corner of my mouth, ready to leap out like parachutists and shout, "ha ha, just joking". 

CARETAKER: Try again. Once for yes, two for no. 

ALEXIS: I am still, within myself. On the outside, there are burglary attempts, like this right now, going on.  

CARETAKER: Nod once for yes, twice for no. You can do it. 

ALEXIS: Just when the words are ready to fly away, someone comes to check on me; turn, treat or tell me something. That's when words crash on the tip of my tongue and fall down my throat again.

ALEXIS ONCE AGAIN NOD THREE TIMES AND THE TURBAN WOBBLES EVEN MORE. 

CARETAKER: I'm sorry Alexis but I really have to be going. Here's the alarm-button, you know the deal, just press if you need anything. Alright? 

THE CARETAKER HANGS AN ALARM-BUTTON BESIDE ALEXIS SO THAT SHE CAN REACH IT WITH HER CHIN. THEN THEY HURRY OUT BUT STOPS IN THE DOORWAY.

CARETAKER: Oh, I forgot, your Dad said he and your Mum is popping over tonight. 

THE CARETAKER THEN LEAVES AND CLOSES THE DOOR. 

ALEXIS: Ma and Dad haven’t talked properly for years, just the two of them. It’s quite amusing seeing them try to come up with something to say when they visits me. Now that I’m, you know, put on silent mode. Even though they were divorced, they still insisted on spending all holidays, birthdays and so on, together. “For the sake of the children”. The children being me and my big sister Anna. Thankfully, it doesn't happen very often now when we are adults but when it does, I used to be the one saving us from complete embarrassment. I would just talk and talk and talk. My sister called it compulsive but I think it was calming. Anna’s the quiet type. Perfectly fine with silence. She’s told me that when I was in a coma, she just sat in my room for ages. She played music and sometimes read to me. If it were the other way around, I would’ve gone absolutely nuts.

THE TOWEL-TURBAN NOW FALLS DOWN FROM ALEXIS HEAD AND COVERS HER FACE. IRRITATED, SHE SHAKES HER HEAD UNTIL THE TOWEL FALLS DOWN TO THE FLOOR. 

ALEXIS: Here, everything happens according to someone else's schedule. Wake up, breakfast, brushing teeth, rest, lunch, therapy, rest, dinner, brushing teeth, goodnight. Who the hell decided everyone should go to bed at nine o'clock? I guess it was the same idiot who formulated the guiding principles for this place; Patience, Acceptance, Compensation, and Empowerment, or simply "PACE". Small words probably meant to soothe and cheer up. Instead they drain all rooms of oxygen, becomes unclear and soporific like ether, when all I need is a breather. No wonder I'm always so tired. 

RADIO PRESENTER: And now it's time for our Shakespeare Saturday afternoon. Today's guest is actress Dame Orla N'doo Arden who'll read us a sonnet. 

ALEXIS: For fucks sake. 

ALEXIS LOOKS AT THE ALARM-BUTTON, TURNS HER HEAD TOWARDS IT LIKE SHE'S GOING TO PRESS IT BUT STOPS. 

DAME ORLA : As an unperfect actor on the stage,

Who with his fear is put beside his part...

ALEXIS : Tell me about it.

DAME ORLA: ...or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart.

ALEXIS: Why can't they just stick to playing music? 

ALEXIS LOOKS AT THE ALARM-BUTTON AGAIN BUT DOESN'T PRESS IT. 

ALEXIS: For several months, my doctor has told me that I have to accept that this is the "new me". As if I had travelled to somewhere like India on one of those silly spiritual, "find yourself" trips and not crashed my motorcycle straight into a bus. I'm grateful that no one died, off course I am. But I didn't die myself...  And I didn't die myself. "But" or "and". It's not always entirely clear which I should choose.

DAME ORLA: And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love, and look for recompense,

More than that tongue that more hath more express’d.

ALEXIS SMILES MISCHIEVOUSLY AND SEEMS TO REMEMBER SOMETHING. 

ALEXIS : At least not all of the staff here are bad, my physiotherapist is alright. He understands the significance of glances. During our first water rehabilitation session, I gave him a Superman-stare when he started talking about "compensating for lost abilities and blah blah blah." Since then, he stays quiet. Once, on the way from the pool, my bathing suit slipped down so that one of my breasts was completely visible. Luckily, it was the breast where I have my piercing, because in the corridor we met the Hottie who lives in the room next to mine. The caretaker pushing me noticed nothing, of course, but the Hottie looked for a long time, grinned, and gave me a mischievous wink . When we passed each other, the Hottie reached out a finger and stroked my arm. How I had missed non-prescription touch. You know, the kind that doesn't involve hand sanitizer and plastic gloves.

DAME ORLA : O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.                              

ALEXIS : When we got to my room, the caregiver started mumbling to himself that I looked like I had a fever. "Your cheeks are all red". He felt my forehead and worriedly stated that I felt very warm. He was going to ask the nurse to come in and take my temperature. Two hours later she showed up, apologised for being late but cheerfully added that I had good patience. I actually agreed with her. I had been forced to listen to nonstop 90s eurodance because the caregiver misunderstood which radio station I preferred. Surprise, surprise, I didn't have a fever. Before the nurse left, she turned up the radio and even more cheerfully said "this song is great, don't you think?" I endured that damn Duracell-bunny music for another hour or so by daydreaming about the Hottie. I imagined that finger exploring all over my body. When it reached my ears, I no longer heard the terrible music. And when the finger touched my mind, just for a moment, my body forgot its paralysis, trembled and like an unrhythmic dance, pleasure spread its way throughout every part of me. With my now fully functioning finger, I pointed out the window and made myself a promise: I will find who I was before all this, before stillness took over, before my words calcified, before synapses were shredded. One day I will be able to scratch off all the scabs, let the eagerness flow freely and steer away from here. That day, my body will be mine again.