Through My Eyes. Again
Copyright© 2019 by Iskander
Chapter 10
November 22nd – 24th 1963
We entered the smoky end of November, with the smell of coal fires hanging in the cold air, thickening the fogs and permeating the month’s miserable drizzles. My worry about JFK’s assassination grew. I knew it happened towards the end of the month, but not the date – even though I remembered it happened in Dallas.
Was it going to happen in this world? What would it mean if it didn’t happen?
At home, I scoured the newspapers for information, but I had long realised there was nothing I could do about it. In my searches, I’d found nothing conflicting with my memories, but Col sensed something was bothering me. When she tried speaking to me, I passed it off as my usual angst, but she knew me better. This created a tension between us and made us both twitchy as the days passed.
When I arrived at Col’s house, it felt as though I had sand scattered under my brain, leaving me irritable. Col gave me a welcome kiss, but my response was half-hearted. Col pulled back, eyes narrowing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, with a touch of annoyance.
Col dropped her hands from my shoulders “Like what?” Her voice echoed the snippiness in mine.
“Like you’re judging me.”
Col closed her eyes and breathed out, her tension ebbing. Eyes open, a hand caressed my cheek. “Willi. I’m sorry.” She started unbuttoning my coat. “I know something’s bothering you and it’s making me uneasy.” She pulled my satchel off my arm and hung it on the hall stand as I removed my coat.
I tried to clamp down on my teenage brain. “I’m sorry, Col.” I should be better at this by now, but my body reacts strongly to its emotions; they surge and slosh almost beyond control.
Col guided me to the table where we usually sat and did our homework. “Can you tell me what the problem is?” She sat me on a chair and swivelled gracefully to sit on my lap. “Is something going on with your father?”
I shook my head.
I hadn’t been able to tell her the truth about me – I was a mix of young Will and an old Will. The truth was so strange I was scared it might drive her away. I still hadn’t found the courage do it.
“No ... but I feel something is going to happen...” my voice petered out.
I hated this deception.
Col reached her arms around me, hugging me tightly and then leant back, smiling at me. “Well, let’s see if I can distract you with our homework.” She gave me a playful kiss then retrieved our school bags from the hall. After an hour or so of work on her Maths and our French homework, I’d been distracted from my worry. In part due to the satisfaction of concentrated study – but mostly it was due to Col’s soothing presence.
After tea, we were settling down on the sofa to snuggle and read when the music Mutti Frida was listening to was interrupted.
“News has just come in that President Kennedy has been shot. There’s no news yet of his condition. It happened as the president was riding with his wife in an open car through the streets of Dallas, Texas. Several shots rang out and the president collapsed into the arms of his wife. One eyewitness said he saw blood on the President’s head. The Governor of Texas, Mr John Connally, who was with him, was also shot down. The president was rushed to hospital, where there’s still no word of his condition.”
Even though I was expecting this, it was still a shock. I heard Mutti Frida gasp and saw tears rolling down her face.
Col threw off the blankets and was at her mother’s side in a moment. “Mutti, what’s wrong?”
I disentangled myself from the blankets Col had scattered and stood beside them.
After a while Mutti Frida sat up, reaching arms round the two of us. “He was a great man. I had such hopes after his Berlin speech.”
She must mean his Ich bin ein Berliner speech when he firmly planted himself on the side of the encircled half-city of West Berlin ... and all western Europe.
“Hopes?” asked Col.
“That one day east Germany would be free, the Party and Stasi broken and we could go home.”
I ached to comfort her with the knowledge it would happen in twenty-five years – at least in my world – but all I could do was hug her. I couldn’t recall the assassination affecting my previous life.
We were huddled over Mutti Frida for a minute or so, until she stood up. “I think we all need a cup of hot chocolate.” She busied herself in the kitchen whilst we were sitting at the table. In the background, the BBC was playing sombre music.
When the hot chocolate was ready, Mutti Frida sighed and chased us back to the sofa and helped tuck the blankets around us. “Read your book.”
We sipped our hot chocolate, but the zest had gone out of our reading and we stopped. We sat there, listening to the music and holding hands under the blanket.
After about an hour, there was another announcement.
“The latest news from America is President Kennedy has only minor injuries and is recovering in hospital, but the bullets meant for him have seriously wounded the president’s wife. She is undergoing surgery and we wait for further announcements.”
An electric jolt ran through me – JFK was alive. My stomach heaved at the shock and I tore myself from the enfolding blankets, reaching the toilet in time to deposit the hot chocolate and my tea. The solidity of the world I was in had been wrenched from beneath my feet. I grasped the bowl and vomited again as reality swirled around me. I half-heard Col’s anguished cry of, “Willi.” before the world greyed out.
I tried to sit up but was held down.
A gruff male voice came from above me. “Settle down, young’un.”
My eyes tried to understand the strange, swaying environment and the thumping pain in my head.
“You’re in an ambulance on the way to the ‘ospital, son. Seems like you ‘ad a nasty turn and fell down, giving your ‘ead a proper crack. ‘Spect you’ll need stitches.” The ambulance attendant glanced down at a clipboard.
“It’s Will, innit?”
Nodding seemed to be a bad idea, with the pain in my head and fluttering in my stomach, so I whispered, “Yes.”
“Lie there, Will. Tell me if you’re gonna be sick again.” My stomach twinged as I recognised the acrid taste of vomit in my mouth.
“Could I have a drink of water, please?”
“Hmm – only a sip, now and spit it out into this bowl.” He held a bottle out, containing a straw, which he brought to my lips. A small suck brought the sweet, cleansing taste of water. I swirled it round my mouth and swallowed.
“Oi – I said to spit it out. You’re not supposed to be drinkin’ nuffin ‘til the doctor’s seen ya.”
I closed my eyes and let the motion of the ambulance sway me around.
JFK was alive.
My reality slipped and flowed. The ambulance man must have been watching as he had a bowl beside me as I retched again.
“See, I told ya not to swallow the water.” he said, wiping my face with a moist cloth.
I lay there, trying not to think – until I realised my collapse must have been so scary for Col and Mutti Frida.
“How are the people I was with?” I managed to ask.
“Them Germans?” Contempt coloured his voice, He was of an age to have experienced the war.
“Yes.”
“Dunno,” he said, dismissively, “but the woman said she’d tried to phone your mum but there was no one there.” His eyes narrowed. “What you doin’, ‘angin’ around with them Jerries?”
The swaying of the ambulance was not helping settle my stomach. I closed my eyes and ignored the question.
“Hey. Don’t you go to sleep on me. We’re nearly there.” He picked up my wrist to take my pulse.
The ambulance came to a halt and the rear doors were opened. With great efficiency, my stretcher was removed and they wheeled me into the Emergency Department. The strong aroma of surgical spirit and disinfectant assaulted my nose.
A pair of nurses helped transfer me to a curtained bed and I lay there, eyes closed and glad not to be moving.
Outside, the ambulance man spoke to the nurse, “‘E was with a pair of damn Germans an’ ‘ad a turn, fell over and cracked ‘is head on the toilet.”
“Germans – is he German, then? Does he speak English?”
“‘E’s English, ‘is name’s Will. ‘E was speaking to me fine in the van. According to the German woman, ‘is mum’s at work but she wasn’t able to get ‘old of ‘er so she rang the ambulance.”
A moment later a nurse bustled through the curtains and placed a bucket by my bed.
“How are we feeling?”
I opened my eyes. “A bit woozy.”
“Well, there’s a bucket if you feel sick again. We’re going to examine your head in a minute when the doctor gets here. You lie still for the moment.” The doctor came and they unwrapped the bandage on my head, mused over the significant bump and gash and decided it needed stitches, which were duly applied under a local anaesthetic.
I was lying there quietly when I heard Mutti Frida’s voice. “But I am his friend’s mother – he was at my house when the accident happened. I wish to see him.” A door closed and I couldn’t hear the conversation.
But then the curtain rustled, and Col was standing beside me, holding my hand fiercely in hers. “Oh, Willi. You were lying in the toilet with blood all over the floor. I thought you were dead. What happened?” She kept her voice low to avoid alerting the staff she was with me.
“I don’t know – I must have fainted.”
“You hit your head on the toilet – there was blood everywhere. Oh God, Willi, I thought you were dead, but Mutti bandaged it. We tried to call your mother but there was no reply, so we called the ambulance.” It all came out in a single breath, her hand squeezing mine.
“Please, don’t break my hand.”
“Sorry.” She relaxed the squeezing, but still didn’t let go. “I’ve been so scared.” She leaned down to kiss me but pulled back when she caught the whiff of vomit still on my breath.
“Ugh – you need to clean your teeth.” she whispered, smiling to take the sting out of her words.
A nurse came in with a clipboard. She gave Col a sideways glance. “Are you supposed to be in here?”
“Sh ... Col’s my best friend. Please let him stay with me. I feel safer.” I gave the nurse my best puppy eyes, hoping she hadn’t noticed my near slip.
“Hmmm.” She saw Col’s hand still holding mine. “I need to take your pulse.” She gave me a pointed stare.
I offered her my other hand.
She bustled around the bed, produced a thermometer which she stuck under my tongue and then took my pulse, writing up the results on a clipboard from the end of the bed.
Then my mother arrived.
The nurse raised her head, annoyed at the continued intrusions into her domain. “And who are you?” she asked, irritation showing in her voice.
My mother was not someone to be trifled with in a medical environment. “I am doctor Johnstone,” she said, then her voice softened. “This is my son. Please tell me what is happening.”
The nurse deflated rapidly. “He had a turn and fell, hitting his head. He has three stitches and the doctor is worried about a concussion.”
My mother picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and examined it, then addressed the nurse. “Please let doctor...” She glanced at the clipboard. “Doctor Fredericks know I am here so I can talk with him.”
The nurse remained there, unsure of what to do.
“Now, please nurse.” My mother’s voice was curt, used to lesser medical staff doing her bidding without question.
The nurse left and my mother turned to Col.
“What happened, Col?” she asked, in a friendly voice.
I jumped in. “Col had nothing to do with it – it was an accident. I felt ill and fainted.”
My mother sat on the side of the bed, opposite Col. She stared at Col’s hand, which was still holding mine. “Rest easy, Will. I want to try to work out why you fainted.”
“Col, can you tell me what you were doing when this happened?”
“We’d had tea and were sitting reading when the news announced President Kennedy had been shot. Then the news came he had been injured but his wife was in surgery.”
“What time did you have tea?”
“About six o’clock, I think. We all had the same – Gemütlichkeit – sort of a beef stew with noodles.”
My mother was worried about food poisoning. She leaned forward. “You feel fine?”
“Yes, Doctor Johnstone.”
“Thank you, Col.” My mother patted Col’s hand. “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s here somewhere. They wouldn’t let us in the ambulance, so we walked round here. She was trying to get in to see Willi, but they wouldn’t let her.”
A half-smile played on my mother’s lips. “You slipped in here when no-one was watching?”
Col didn’t say anything.
She leaned across and patted his hand again. “You stay here and I’ll go and find Dr Fredericks and your mother.”
I was still feeling a bit woozy and had a splitting headache, so I lay with my eyes closed. The bed shifted and Col laid down beside me.
Col whispered in my ear, “Well, we’re in bed together, but it’s not quite what I was expecting.”
I squeezed her hand. “Wicked girl.” I whispered back, smiling. Then we lay in silence.
After a while, I heard footsteps and the curtain swished back. The doctor and my mother came in, with Mutti Frida and the nurse behind them. My mother frowned at Col lying beside me. Col sat up but kept hold of my hand.
“How are we feeling?” The doctor asked.
“My head hurts.”
He gave a wry smile. “I’m sure it does. Seeing as you have a doctor in the house,” he said, glancing across at my mother and nodding in acknowledgement, “I think we can let you go home.” Having delivered his verdict, he swept out.
“Well, Will, let’s get you out of here.” She gave Mutti Frida a quick smile. “Can I give you a lift home?”
“Thank you, Frau Doctor, but just to your house. We can walk from there.”
Supported between Mutti Frida and my mother, I was walked out to the car. I lay in the back with my head in Col’s lap. At home, I was walked up to bed.
Col and Mutti Frida said goodnight and set off for home as soon as I was safely upstairs. My mother fussed around me for a while but left me in peace, leaving the bedroom door open so I could call for help.
I lay there, totally confused by what was happening, the pain in my head thudding with each heartbeat did not help. The world I knew was not this world and I had no idea what might happen as a result. It would affect politics in the US, but JFK strode the world’s stage.
The painkillers worked and my head calmed down enough so I could fade into sleep.
I woke to find my mother leaning over me, a hand on my forehead, morning light pushing through the curtains. “How are you feeling, Will?”
“Sore – and thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
She was back in a minute with a glass, which she put on my bedside table. “Here, let me help you sit up a bit.”
I levered myself up and my mother fluffed up my pillow and put a second one behind me. “Okay?”
I smiled at her and reached for the water.
“Remember, don’t drink it all at once.”
I took a few sips and put it down.
My mother was studying me, cogs turning in her head. “What’s happening with you, Will?” She sat down on the edge of the bed, searching my face. “About a year ago something happened and you ... changed.” She stared into my eyes silently before her eyes dropped. “I know things here at home needed to change and I’m so sorry I did nothing until that night with your father. But now you are different – and it feels like you are...” She stopped, searching my face. “Hiding yourself from me?”
I held her gaze, saying silent.
She picked up my hand. “I don’t know who you are now.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Sometimes you are so mature I can scarcely believe it, but...” Her head shook in confusion. “I don’t understand you at all.” She paused, staring off to the side, trying to pull her thoughts together. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Your fainting spell doesn’t seem to have any physical cause. Talking to Col last night suggested it was a shock reaction.” She paused again, in puzzlement. “But why would you be shocked President Kennedy was alive? I could understand it if you had a reaction to the shooting – but to him being alive? It’s almost as if you expected him to be dead.”
I stayed silent – I couldn’t answer. My mother was an intelligent woman and she was picking at the fabric close to a thread she might untangle and follow.
“I know you’ve been taking the newspaper to read – and then bringing it back down again,” she gave me a knowing smile. “I know you’re interested in what’s happening in the world. Being shocked at JFK’s death I could understand...” She stopped again, frowning in puzzlement. “Was it delayed shock?”
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