Swiss Cheese

Ruth

I sat in the bathroom, face buried into my hands and breathing rapidly. I could hear Robert yelling outside the door. He was confused, going on about the same things we talked about every single day. I wished he would stop for a minute, give me silence and peace for just a little while but the heavy accusations kept coming. Why do you keep me here against my will? Why can’t I go see mom? When was the last time you thought about me, what’s best for me? You do nothing else but hate me. I want to leave. I want to go home.

How could I explain to him that this was his home. That mom had died twenty years ago. That I did not hate him, and I tried the best I could to take care of him. I did what I could so that he was able to live at home he did not recognize as his own. Would it be better to put him into a nursing home? There he would not have his own furniture and belongings, though and strangers would take care of him. Would it matter? There were days that even I was a stranger to him.

I got up and sprinkled my face with cold water. A tired, old and wrinkly woman stared back at me from the mirror. I was old, too old and too tired to take care of my beloved brother much longer. I simply could not do it anymore. I felt that I was not good enough. I was not able to help Robert. I tried though. And never got as much as a thank you for trying. Who would thank me? I was not a hero, I was carrying out my responsibilities. I was doing what anyone would do in my place. I changed his diapers, made sure he ate well and healthy, kept the house clean and safe, read books out loud to Robert and played him music as that sometimes seemed to bring back memories. His feet would start moving with the beat and he would suddenly remember long-forgotten things from childhood. He recognized the music.

The tiny, frosted glass bathroom window pointed towards the garden and from it I saw all the colors of the spring. It was nice that summer was coming. We could go to the park to feed the ducks and I could buy Robert an ice cream cone. It would be good to get out of the house. Robert was in good physical shape and he would have been able to go outside during winter too but I was not. A bad hip. I was able to move pretty well with my walker but I was too afraid of falling on the icy, slippery ground. And I knew that if I fell, I would probably not walk again. Then who would take care of my brother?

Robert was banging the door with his fists. He had always been calm, sweet and happy person, all of his life. Until he came down with the sickness. Then he started to have these tantrums. He scared me when he was like that. His words were sharp and hurtful, sometimes he even hit me but the most painful thing was to see the look in his eyes. It was a look of pure, raw terror. He was scared of the world around him. The world he was not able to recognize anymore. Who would not be afraid as a prisoner inside the faceless, unknown world. I opened the door and looked at Robert. Between his eyes were deep wrinkles of worry. He dropped his hand.

“Why can’t I go home?”

*

I woke up, in the middle of the night, to a feeling that someone was staring at me. I was not mistaken. Robert was standing at the door. I was not able to see his face in the dark room. I rose to sit and waited for him to get angry again but he just stood there. Suddenly he whispered in an unfamiliar, childlike voice:

“Mommy. Someone is eating up my brain. Someone is inside me and eating me away.”

I sighed in horror. He had never before seemed to be aware of his condition. Sure, he had stated that he had a bad memory couple of times but nothing like this. Shivers went down my spine. Could he be able to feel his condition? Could he be able to feel it inside him?

“Mommy. Soon I will be no more. Something’s gonna eat me and then I will be gone. Then there will only be that something who ate me.”

“Rob…” I whispered and turned on the light on the nightstand. I realized in horror that he had scratched his face bloody. The nail marks were red and the skin had broken so that tiny drops of blood ran down his cheeks.

“Oh Rob, why did you do that? That must hurt. Come, I’ll clean it”, I said and Robert stared at me confused.

“I was just trying to get it out of my head”, Robert answered in an innocent voice. It was terrifying to hear him distort his voice like that. I got up, took his hand and lead him to kitchen where I sat him down. I fetched a tiny towel I soaked in cold water, a bottle of disinfectant and couple of band-aids.

*

It went on for two weeks. Robert woke up in the middle of the night, and came to me thinking that I was mom. He kept going on that something was eating up his brain. He explained that his brain was like Swiss cheese, full of holes. Every time he spoke with a weird, childlike, high-pitched voice I had never heard him use before. Often he had scratched his face and couple of times even ripped his thin, gray hair. I was getting really worried and did not know what to do. So I called Robert’s doctor who wanted to see us. Unfortunately, the next free appointment was almost a month away. Until that, he recommended me to cut Robert’s nails short and make sure he was not hurting himself. The doctor also told me, that I could try a knit cap that covers the head and face but would not accidentally cover his mouth or nose while sleeping.

I cut and filed Robert’s nails that very evening. He did not like that and it took almost an hour as the whole time, he tried to fight back. After that I was warming up some honeyed milk for us. My own health was getting worse. Last few days, I had used my walker even inside the house. Getting up from the table, taking the couple steps to the refrigerator and then from there to the stove felt like an exercise. I was afraid I could not get out even during summer, by this rate. I glanced out the window and saw the Rowan tree standing there. The Bohemian waxwings had eaten all the berries during winter and now the new leaves were slowly sprouting.

Robert sat in the table staring out the window as well. Suddenly, he said in a low, coarse voice that reminded a dog’s growl:

“Cheese, cheese.”

I was startled and dropped the honey pot I was holding. Luckily, the lid stayed on and there was no mess but I knew I was not able to pick it up from the floor by myself.

“Do you want cheese with the milk? I can cut a few pieces for you, if you like? And Rob, sweetie, could you please pick up the honey pot for me?”

“Cheese, cheese, more holes. Soon there’s nothing left!” His growl grew into a terrible scream. I got so scared I burst into tears. I realized he was talking about his brain. It crossed my mind that maybe it was not my brother speaking at all.

“Who are you?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Hmm… We live here now. He’s gone soon completely” Robert answered grinning. I could not be left alone with this thing. I started to make my way towards the bathroom, waddling painfully and slowly with my walker. Tears ran down to my chubby cheeks.

“You can’t run. When you are hungry, really, really hungry, you can never be full”, Robert growled after me and then laughed. I reached the bathroom, went in and locked the door. Then I sat on my walker and took deep breaths to calm myself down. For once, I was able to sit there in peace, the whole house was dead silent. I could picture in my mind, Robert sitting in the table, smiling a stranger’s smile. After a few minutes had passed, I heard how the milk started boiling over. I had to go back to the kitchen. Robert was standing at the stove, holding the pot, smiling happy and said in a perfectly normal voice:

“Whoops. This is ruined now but we’ll make a new batch, right?”

*

Officer Ainsley

I had never seen anything like that in my life. The neighbors had called the police when they heard loud screaming and shrieking. We got there as soon as possible and spent a good while knocking on the door without an answer. We tried the door and it was not locked so we let ourselves in. We went through the house trying to find somebody. When we got to the bedroom, I sighed in horror. Like I said, I had never seen anything like that in my life.

In the corner of the room, there was an old man hunched over an old woman’s still body. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that the old woman’s stomach had been ripped open and the intestines were hanging out. The old man turned toward us and his face was covered in blood. He was chewing a piece of meat that was partially hanging out of his mouth. When he saw us, he smiled and shrieked in a high-pitched voice:

“Cheese!”