I had gotten home late last night, or this morning rather. Not much party. We called the hospital this morning. Billy had gotten an infection over night and a high fever, and we were not allowed to visit him today. Not looking good. I had already been thinking if we should somehow reach his family, even though he is not on good terms with them, and the doctors suggested that, too, by now.
***
*Update: Vincent did call Billy’s family, and he asked me to help out, too, because I can speak German. Vincent started out explaining the situation in English, but I am not sure the communication went very well. Billy’s dad did not wish to speak with any of us, “Er kann grad nicht zum Telefon kommen” we were told by his mom, which means “He can’t come to the phone right now”, but we heard her converse with a man in serious voices whilst it sounded like she was holding the speaker closed; and so we tried our luck with Billy’s mother. I had never heard anything about her, so I didn’t have any picture in my head what she was like, but in hindsight I guess I could have figured as much.
Josiane Keller “Vincent on the phone” (2016)
Josiane Keller “Vincent on the phone 2” (2016)
Josiane Keller “Vincent on the phone 3” (2016)
After some initial attempt to get the point across what this was about Vincent had given the phone to me with a somewhat frustrated face expression, and I explained what had happened and that her son was in a critical condition and maybe they or she might want to try to get on a plane to come see him, in fact: as soon as possible, considering the situation. Upon which she then asked me, what museums and art galleries were in our city and in particular nearby the hotel;
I was a bit baffled by the question and tried as cautiously as possible to explain to her that Cooks Lane wasn’t exactly an area with elegant art galleries or cultural things like that. In my mind prosecco glasses holding, cheek-kissing, well dressed crowds popped up. Nope, sorry, nothing like that around here, really.
I suggested to get them a different hotel a bit more up-scale, or as up-scale as they needed it to be, anyways, and nearby the hospital. I suppose she was contemplating the option. Then she asked if there were any boutiques in the area or at least fashion stores for window shopping. I regretted there weren’t any I knew of, as it is not exactly the kind of thing I do, so I am the last person to ask for such places.
Upon which she said: “Ach, da ist ja ueberhaupt nichts Schoenes zu sehen!”, which translates to something along the lines of “Oh, so there isn’t anything beautiful at all to see?”
Indeed, bitch, you got that one right. Nichts Schoenes, nothing beautiful whatsoever. Only a very skinny young man with a broken stomach and a broken heart in hospital and with a tic more bad luck there might be also a beautiful, beautiful funeral (in Austrian, in fact there is an expression for a ‘beautiful funeral’, which are very popular, and it is called: ‘a schöne Leich’.)
I thought that to myself, I didn’t say it out loud to her. Let me get this straight, lady. Your son is in a critical condition and might actually die and you wanna go shopping? (Also that I did NOT say out loud to her.)
I could see how with a family like that Billy at some point during his childhood might have given up voicing his opinions, and also voicing his needs, in fact: perhaps even giving up just allowing himself having any needs. Damn. Well. We didn’t really come to a conclusion as she ended the phone call with: “Es tut mir leid, ich hab jetzt ganz lange zu gehoert und ich kann jetzt nicht mehr zuhoeren, ich habe noch Damen zum Kaffee eingeladen, die stehen gleich hier vor der Tuere, und habe mir die Haare noch nicht frisiert!” (or in English: “I am awfully sorry, I have now listened to you for a very long time and can’t listen to you any longer, I invited some ladies for coffee and in a minute they will show up here and I have not done my hair yet!”)
Click.
With that she hung up. I am not sure if she is intending to come see Billy or not, but honestly, it didn’t sound like it was top on her to-do list. Shit, man.
It’s one of my life experiences, if you just wait long enough the answer to any question you might have will come to you.
Or in brief: No wonder, that’s all I have to say to that. Oh well.
In honour of Billy, a song by P.J Harvey “Is that all there is?”: