VIVA LA VIDOO part iii

continued from Viva La Vidoo ii

Confusion is a terrifying state, point blank. Semi-conscious Vidoo would spring up at the mere touch, and gape wildly at the attending personnel. Mutely, she shot us petrified stares, often mouthing, 'Where am I?', 'What happened?' or 'Who are you?'
She seizured and retched, and had to be tied down to the bed-frame. I kept repeating her name, location, and exclamations of love. Personally, I was crept out by this moribund phase, and clenched my teeth in fear and fatigue, and the correlations from my past.
Where am I?
'You're in the hospital, Vidoo. You're taken care of. It's ok.'
Where am I? Is this New York?
'New York? No. This is Israel. You're safe now. They're taking care of you. I love you.'
Is this NYC?
'God forbid, no. It's ok.'
She nods, leans her head back and dozes off. A few days pass.

Then Rotem stands in the doorway.
The monitor beeping, the nurse calls, the ringing phones, die. All I hear for some elongated seconds is blood thudding through my heart, with a triple echo. Vidoo, groggy, submerged in valium and antitoxins, notices her too and raises her head. I am so relieved, I crash my head against my knees and cry.
Rotem squats on the puke-splattered lino before me and holds me tight. She smells good, of outdoors and mountains and wildflowers.
She sends me home and stays with Vidoo, and it all seems very natural although they've never met before.

I sleep fitfully, plagued with ongoing nightmares of Vidoo dying, or reaching for me in a Stephen-Kingesque zombie fashion, eyeballs rolling and convulsing grip tightening on my throat.
The next morning I return to her bedside, which Rotem has decorated with latex-glove balloons, monkey pictures, a hospital sheet canopy festooned with little fiesta flags she sliced out of puke bags. My knees are still jelly and blood pressure low. The psychologist is due to evaluate Vidoo soon, informs Rotem. 'She is able to talk now, eh chica?'
Within 24 hours, all tubes have vanished, just a single arm attached to the IV. She is still bleary and nauseous, but the improvement is way off-scale, which I fully credit to Rotem.
A doctor steps in, a brisk Australian gent, who questions us briefly and dismisses us out.

At the cafeteria, Rotem bares her arm, ties a cord and fixes herself a shot. Sometimes I'd rather forget that she is nearly dead herself.
'You gave Vidoo her life,' she tells me, leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. I don't know what medicine is inside that syringe, but it seems to cause much pain.
'I did what I was supposed to.'
'You didn't have to stay with her, repeatedly proclaim your love – even when she's unconscious.'
'I didn't do it for her,' I retort, then shudder because I get a chill. Rotem opens her eyes. 'I have nightmares,' I tell her.
'The Peyote Witch is trippin' badly?' she teases, but she's concerned.
I don't care anymore. 'It'll go away. Nightmares always ebb off. Thing I'm worried about is Vidoo's upshot.'
Rotem squares her shoulders as if she's been waiting for this cue. 'What're the options?'
'Most probably, she'll be dispatched home. The program, however therapeutic, cannot cater for her.'
'She's BDP,' says Rotem.
'Says who?' [Borderline Personality Disorder – see article]
'My humble diagnosis. Done some research into self-harmers the past few years. Thanks to my renowned maternal surname,' she grimaces, 'I had enough nepotism to maintain contact with some bigshots in the field.'
'Since when are you into psychiatry?'
'I'm not. I happen to be the psychologist's psychopathic kid. But I did want to understand what happened to Bella.'
GONG.

Never, ever, ever ever, mention Bella. Even the carefree have taboos.
Bella, majestic and brilliant - a colossus of a woman - was fervidly admired by Rotem, who found in her the accomplice/debate partner she needed so badly. In Norham, they were known as 'The Girls who Knew Everything.' They could recite Goethe, the Ri"f and Ali G, argue over Kadishman's sheep and Fermat's law. I knew this relationship differed from the rest Rotem held, as she pleaded to please that Hassidic desperada with a lopsided eye.
Then, Bella was kicked out. Enraged Rotem decided to follow suit, and covered for her roommate Tanya's kleptomania. Thus she joined the expulsion epidemic, her last act being the last straw. However, Bella died just before Rotem reached her.

Therefore, you never mention Bella in Rotem's vicinity, cry for me Argentina and all.
'She used to cut,' explain Rotem now. 'As well as slam her fingers in doors and windows. I preferred to ignore that as it confused me. Once I left, I tried to find out more. Felt guilty, I guess, and furiously curious. Had to trace her murderer, so to speak. I corresponded and spoke to a few notable in the field, and swallowed enough scripture to compose a thesis.'
This is unsurprising. She has a habit of researching life. She studies her enemy and lover until she is versed with everything, down to favorite urinating position.
'And you're saying Vidoo's BDP?'
'Merely suggesting. Wait for the doc's verdict.'
'If so, then we definitely can't cater for her.'
'But you can. Adopt her.'
'Who?'
'You. Her.'
I stare. 'I can't.
She gives me her famous smirk.

Continued on Viva la Vidoo iv