The Quiltmaker

I was laughing so hard I could barely hold the razor-blade still. Dr. Gerald – that is what I sometimes called him – stood in the doorway as plain-faced as always. He did not move, but I knew what he meant.1

“That’s right!” I waved the blade in his direction, the white foam like streaks of cloud across my face, “You told me to use an electric razor! ‘Perhaps you should avoid sharp objects,’ you said, ‘Because you are mental after all!’ I mean, fancy that, a psychiatrist making fun of his patient!”2

He stared at me, but I understood. I rubbed the foam splatter from my hair with a corner of the quilt wrapped around my naked waist.3

“Oh, don’t give me that, Doc. You’re like a brother to me, but don’t forget how it all started.” I said. He followed me through to the cluttered area I referred to as my bedroom. It looked like a bomb-site covered in the world’s largest collection of home-made blankets. “That reminds me. Check out the new design I’m working on, I call it ‘The Blackpool Tower’. Yeah, I always told you I wanted to do it… you know, to commemorate my last trip with Granny before she died. She said she wanted to sew it and then give it to me as a gift, but she never got around to it.”4

Gerald did not respond to my excitable gestures towards the pile of fabric in the corner, he just stared out of the window. His usual faint aura seemed to be more vivid in the morning light. Never mind, I thought, he has probably seen it already. 5

I picked out a shirt from the closet. It was dusty and smelled like an old man. With a little effort, I put it on and then attached a clip-on tie to my neck. I twirled on the spot like a ballerina.6

“How do I look? Seriously though, Gerald, this is a big day. I mean, you must remember just after Granny died, when I turned up in your office with ear-plugs in… the first time we met. She wouldn’t get out of my head. I was a mess. Seven years since then, Doc. I want you to be with me today, this is down to you. It’s been seven years since I’ve done anything like this. I can’t believe you are talking me into it.”7

I checked I had everything, kicking pizza boxes around the floor as I stumbled from the desk to the bed. God I was nervous. Dr. Gerald looked at me and I grinned.8

I walked briskly down the street, checking behind me at regular intervals. I was always worried about being jumped in this neighbourhood. It was a dump. Gerald did not speak, he never did, and he wore the same frozen expression. I wanted to reach out and clap him on the shoulder as a way of thanks, but I knew he would disappear again. The last time I tried to shake his hand he left me for a week. I was going out of my mind without him next to me at all hours of the day. 9

I was lucky. The bus arrived within a few minutes and I jumped on, paying the driver double as always. Sometimes this heap of scrap metal was up to an hour late, so I made sure I gave myself a little extra time. I cautiously stepped along the aisle and tucked myself away next to a window. Gerald sat by me. 10

I hated going out in public. People always stared at me like I was an animal in a cage, fondling faeces in its hands. My fingers started going through the movements of sewing, the only thing in the world that calmed me. I guess it reminds me of the good times I had when I used to watch Granny make her blankets. When I did not have to face horrible truths. The bus stopped again and a young man got on, shuffling to the back and sitting a few places away from me. His eyes locked with mine and he frowned as if he was trying to figure out what he was looking at. I saw Gerald turn his head, and the man switched his attention to his mobile phone.11

“Thanks,” I whispered. Gerald continued staring at the youth, those glazed eyes never blinking. “I don’t know what I would do without you protecting me the entire time mate, you’re like a bloody guard dog. I guess that’s why you came back, right? I remember what you said…”12

I had trailed off because my head was suddenly filled with terrible images. I had hated hospitals ever since I watched Granny deteriorate in her bed, unable to move for the agony. My disliking had worsened after Gerald had been taken sick. God, just remembering it brought tears to my eyes. My only ever friend, apart from Granny of course, as pale as the pillow he rested his head upon. ‘My biggest regret in life,’ he had said, ‘was not curing you, mate. I couldn’t help you and now I never will’. I tried to tell him that by putting his job on the line and befriending his patient he had helped me more than he would ever know. He always said that the root of my problem was my loneliness. Sure, I was still messed up, cooped up in my flat making quilts and talking to myself, but at least I was happy. He wouldn’t have it. He wanted to see me have a normal life.13

“Well, here I am, Doc. You’ve talked me into it. It’s time to take a shot at a normal life. Who would have thought it, eh? You died, wishing you could have helped me, and then they let you come back. Here we are… me and you just like before, trying to get me better.”14

The bus stopped again. This time it was my stop, the centre of town. I hopped out into the street and we walked down the road. People were up already and going about their daily business. Buying and selling, Gerald had always said, that was what the world was about. It would soon be my turn to get a piece of that pie. We waited on a bench for a while before we headed towards the shop.15

“Here we are!” I pointed at the huge picture of a sandwich that hung above me. “What do you think? I’ve never been very good at making sandwiches, but they teach you, right?”16

Gerald stared at me. I bet he was so excited. I was more nervous than excited, but I wanted to do this for him. I told him to stay where he was. They probably wouldn’t allow friends to come into the interview, especially friends who were ghosts. 17

I felt naked without Gerald. I was suddenly aware of people looking at me; I suppose it was because I looked a bit different. I was pale; I did not like going out in the sun and I barely ever slept. The lady led me through to the back of the sandwich shop and into a small office. She stopped once to ask me if I was okay because I had burst into a fit of giggles. I had realised that she looked a bit like a ‘newsreader lady’. Gerald thought newsreader ladies were very pretty. 18

She closed the door and we sat down. I remembered what the Doc had said and I handed her my resume. She took a little while to read it. I suppose she had to consider all the details. When she took the paper away from her face I saw that she was wearing a strange expression.19

“Do you prefer Jake or Jacob, Mr. Simpson?” 20

“Jacob.”21

“Ok, Jacob. You don’t appear to have much experience in the food industry. In fact, you don’t have any work experience at all according to your application. Can I ask you what qualities you think you would bring to Super Sandwiches?” I fidgeted uncomfortably. I wished Gerald could whisper the answer in my ear just like he always did. 22

“Well… I like sandwiches. I don’t know much about them, but I will learn. I make sandwiches every day. I used to go to the shops with my friend to get—"23

“Are you being serious here, Mr. Simpson?” The newsreader woman interrupted.24

“Yes, I would like a job. I’ve always wanted to have one but I’ve been a bit nervous about it, that’s all.”25

“Ok,” she started to look a bit uncomfortable, “We just have a few problems here. In your activities and interests section you have written that you spend all day, every day, making quilts and blankets in your flat. Do you sell them?”26

“No, no! I just like them. Making them helps me keep calm.”27

“Mr. Simpson… Jacob, you’ve even included drawings. Have you ever applied for a job before?”28

I started to sense that this was not going the way I wanted it to go. At that moment, through the tiny window in the door, I could see Gerald’s gormless face. I gulped hard and shot him a stern look. He did not move, so I started to flick my hand at him, being careful not to arouse too much suspicion. 29

“Is everything okay, Jacob?” She looked at the door as if she expected to see something there.30

“I’m so sorry about him; I don’t know how he got in here. I told him to stay outside!”31

“Okay, Mr. Simpson. I think we’re done here.”32

“What? I thought you had to ask me lots of questions. You’ve only asked a couple. Did I get the job?”33

“I think… I think you should ask a friend to show you how to fill in job applications. Super Sandwiches look for experience, Mr. Simpson. Perhaps we could reconsider after you have had more practice... in industry. I’m afraid we’re going to have to say ‘no’.”34

When I got back outside Gerald led me to a bench. I sat down and threw my head into my hands. I did not understand what I had done wrong, apart from perhaps being myself. I looked up at Gerald. He loomed over me.35

“Well… I tried, old friend. I guess I’m not cut out for this ‘normal life’ stuff. I suppose you would have liked it though… you know, if you were here in person. At least I tried.”36

Then, for the first time since he had fallen ill, a grin spread across Gerald’s face. I was so shocked I leapt to my feet. He just stared at me, his lips curling and glee in his eyes. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t. Instead, my eyes passed through my translucent friend and fixed upon a giant golden ‘M’ sign in the distance.37

“Come on,” I said, “Let’s find another job.”38

With my friend by my side and a smile upon my face, I headed back into the street.39