The State of Me
A beautifully written debut novel by an exciting author.Curriculum VitaeName: Helen FleetWork Experience: Waitress; Serial volunteerEducation: Four Highers: French (A), English (A), Maths (A), Chemistry (A), 1981; Ordinary Arts degree, MA, 1990; Certificate in Counselling Skills and Theory, 1992Travel: France, Madeira, San Francisco, Rome, Greece. And London.Relationships: Sex with three men: Hadi, Ivan and Fabio. I still love Ivan.Additional Information: I have a mini hi-fi and a pine bookcase, and an expensive leather briefcase (got it in the January sales after Fabio and I had finished) and a suit I haven't worn since my graduation.It's 1983 and 20-year-old university student Helen Fleet should be enjoying the best days of her life, but while all her friends go on to graduate and have careers in London, she is forced to return to her parents' home, bedridden with vile symptoms that doctors can't explain and often don't believe. She is eventually diagnosed with M.E., a cruel illness that she must learn to live with over the next decade. All of her relationships are tested – and changed – by her condition, but Helen's story is so much more than an account of her suffering. At times sad and at times funny, the author skillfully leads the reader through the trials and tribulations of Helen's life, perfectly capturing her unusual experiences as a twenty-something woman living in 80s Scotland with a mystery illness.Based on the author's own experience of ME The State of Me explores the loneliness and chaos of one of the most misunderstood illnesses of our time, but also celebrates the importance of family, friendships, and sexual love.A stunning, eloquent and linguistically perfect debut novel.
Читать The State of Me онлайн беплатно
The State of Me
Nasim Marie Jafry
The Friday Project
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
First published by The Friday Project in 2008
Copyright © Nasim Marie Jafry 2008
FIRST EDITION
Nasim Marie Jafry asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9781906321055
Ebook Edition © JULY 2010 ISBN: 9780007303199 Version: 2014-09-10
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents portrayed in it are either the work of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
for lizzie
Table of Contents
12 A Wedding, a Graduation and Ganesh
18 Granny Fleet, Peter and Finn
Tell me right away if I’m disturbing you, he said as he stepped inside my door, and I’ll leave at once.
You not only disturb me, I said, you shatter my entire existence. Welcome.
Eeva Kilpi
(translated by Börje Vähämäki)
All you need to know is this: Coxsackie. Coxsuckie. Cock-a-leekie.
Three funny words that sound the same.
Can you guess what they mean?
I’ll tell you: a virus, a sexual act and a kind of soup made from chicken and leeks.
WHEN SHE’S FALLING asleep, she rubs her left foot against her right foot. Stop that, he says, you’re like a giant cricket. He deserves an acrobatic lover, a Nadia Comaneci. When she’s got energy, she goes on top as a special treat.
Dragging legs, concentrating on every step, I feel like I’m wading through water. I take a trolley even though I’m only buying a few things. I don’t want to have to carry a basket. I pick up some tea bags. My arms and face are going numb, my bones are burning. I stop the trolley and pretend to look at the coffee. The lights are too bright, there are too many shiny things to look at, too many jars and bottles. I don’t feel real. I abandon the trolley and go to the checkout, picking up a lime on the way.
The woman in front of me places the NEXT CUSTOMER divider between her dog food and my lime. She has a pink pinched face and limpid blue eyes. You can’t see her eyelashes. A mountain of Pedigree Chum edges towards the scanner.
I focus on the lime and hope my legs will last.
I’m wondering how many dogs the pinched woman has, and if her husband loves her without eyelashes, when a shrill voice punctures my head: the voice of the checkout girl. I haven’t realised it’s my turn.
D’you know how much this is? she says, holding up the lime. She’s typed in a code, and PUMPKIN LARGE has come up on the till display.
It’s not a pumpkin, I say. It’s a lime.
She rings for the store manager, who appears from nowhere, brisk and important. He gives the girl the correct code and disappears again in a camp jangle of keys. The girl rings up the lime and I’m free. I go outside and sit on the wall. I feel spectacularly ill.
I make my way home with no shopping. It’s only a five minute walk. I pass the dead seagull folded on the road. It’s been there for three days. It has blood on it.
I reach the house and the smell of fresh paint hits me as I unlock the front door – we’d painted the bathroom last week, my arms left like rags.
I’ll need to call him.
When he answers the phone, I try to sound independent.
I got ill at the supermarket, I say. Can you please get some groceries on the way home?
What do we need?
Pasta, salad, bread. Basics.
I’ll nip home just now. I need to get out of here for a bit anyway.
Can you get some Parmesan too?
Okay.
I’m sorry, I say.
It’s not your fault, he replies.
That seagull’s still there, d’you think I should call the council?
They’ll be closed, he says, it’s after four.
Someone’s moved it into the gutter, at least it’s not in the middle of the road anymore.
Call them tomorrow, he says.
I just feel sorry for it.
