Jena Takes Care of Anna

Anna's spectacularly dumb fall occurred on a Tuesday.

She'd been reaching for some books on a high shelf, stood on the edge of a chair that was absolutely not intended as standing space, and discovered mid-air that the laws of gravity still applied. Both wrists took the impact; Hospital confirmed sprains rather than breaks, and attached a pair of solid splints before telling her to keep it on for about a week. She could use her fingers. She could do very little with her hands.

Anna's first reaction (once the painkillers had taken hold) was that she would manage.

Jena's was to take her sister's keys, bag and the discharge notes, and announce that she was moving into Anna's flat for the duration.

No arguments. Jena saw that her sister needed help, and decided to provide it.

By Wednesday morning Anna had discovered that two wrists were a curse with almost limitless reach.

Opening a yoghurt pot was impossible; carrying a mug required considerable negotiation; doors with stiff handles became hostile impediments; getting dressed meant a constant state of negotiation and compromise; washing her hair was an impossibility; showering required some sort of assistance; certain other specific personal matters were even less dignified than that.

Jena dealt with the entire list of indignities in the same pragmatic way that she approached everything else. She cut up the food into manageable pieces. She held the mug up while Anna drank. She washed Anna's hair in the sink with all the detached efficiency of someone washing up dishes. When more private assistance was required, Jena simply did as she had to do and left the humiliation completely to Anna.

Anna found this entire situation intensely uncomfortable.

She was the older sister. She was the one who looked after people. Being looked after, she decided, was something of a demotion. Jena did not appear to share this opinion.

The clothing dilemma reared its head on the second day.

Lower half garments were less of a problem with assistance; knickers and loose shorts were negotiable, but clothing for the upper half presented an entirely different class of difficulty. The simple business of getting arms into sleeves with both wrists splinted required time, patience and a second person. The reverse process was little better.

Jena weighed up the options for roughly ten seconds.

"When you don't need to be dressed," she said, "you could just stay like this from the waist up."

Anna stared at her, "No."

"It would save a lot of time."

"I don't care."

"You're making everything harder than it needs to be."

"I am not walking around topless in my own flat."

Jena looked genuinely confused. "Why not?"

Anna gaped at her, then closed her mouth again and realised that every answer that sprang to mind was suddenly ridiculous when expressed aloud to someone who did it every day.

The argument bounced back and forth for the entire day.

Anna's side of it was, as far as she was concerned, indisputable; there was a distinct difference between needing help with private matters and choosing to sit about topless, the former of which was appropriate in the circumstances and the latter of which was not. The situation was a medical necessity, and she was not going to turn it into a choice.

Jena's side of it made no sense whatsoever.

By Thursday the situation had become something of a routine.

"I helped you with the bathroom yesterday," Jena remarked, as she attempted for the third time that morning to guide Anna's arm into a T-Shirt sleeve.

"Yes."

"And I did the shower for you."

"Yes."

"I've done practically everything this week."

"Yes."

"So I can wipe your arse, but you don't want me to see you nude?"

Anna hesitated, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's different."

Jena considered this.

"It isn't, though."

"It is to me."

She didn't understand, but Jena accepted that without question, the way she accepted most of other people's stranger rules. She stopped arguing, and simply continued to dress Anna whenever Anna saw fit, while Anna chose to remain nude in the most matter-of-fact way possible.

It didn't improve her mood any.

By Friday Anna had accepted a temporary solution.

At home, when no one else was to be seen, she remained nude from the waist up. It was easier, but it was wrong, and every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she felt a new swell of irritation at her own wrists, at Jena, at the fact that Jena could sit opposite her completely nude and with no apparent interest in any of it.

To her credit, Jena simply continued to do exactly as she always had done.

What she wore was completely irrelevant to what she was doing. It always had been.

Anna did not find this entirely fair.

Beneath the practical argument, something else was going on.

Jena was being attentive in a way Anna had not seen before. She anticipated problems; she adjusted to them without being asked; she never once made Anna feel clumsy, only temporarily hampered. Anna, who had most of her life been the reliable one, slowly realised that it was possible be looked after without feeling like a failure

She was, if anything, even more thoroughly unimpressed about the circumstances. The person who was doing the looking after was rapidly becoming something of a surprise, though. She was quietly and unexpectedly grateful for her.

On Saturday the intercom rang.

Jena answered it.

"It's Jack," she called. "He's coming up."

Anna's reaction was immediate, and volcanic.

"I need to get dressed. Now."

Jena looked at her, baffled.

"Why?"

"Because Jack is coming!"

"He's our brother!"

"I know he's our brother! He has never seen me like this and he is never going to!"

Jena didn't, apparently, find this remotely urgent. She did understand the tone, though. She was helpful.

The next three minutes were not pretty. Anna barked out instructions, and Jena followed them with the calm efficiency that made Anna feel increasingly panicked at the sound of approaching footsteps. A T-Shirt was retrieved. Arms were guided through sleeves. The hem was pulled down. Anna announced herself to be decent with roughly four seconds to spare.

Jack knocked. A nude Jena opened the door.

She greeted them both normally, sat on the sofa, and proceeded to spend the next few minutes talking about nothing in particular. After a while he frowned at Anna.

"Anna?"

"Hmm?"

"Your T-Shirt's inside out."

Anna looked down.

The tag hung neatly at the front of her collarbone.

There was a short, dense silence.

Jena noticed at the same time and tilted her head, regarding the problem with pure practical interest.

Anna weighed the effort of removing the shirt, pulling it the right way, and replacing it against the simple fact that she was, at least, covered.

She decided that it could stay.

Jack, for his credit, didn't press for an explanation. The visit continued. When he left, Anna didn't let out the long, controlled breath until the door clicked shut. Jena looked at her.

"You could have just stayed--"

"Finish that sentence and I will kill you," Anna said quite reasonably.

The rest of the week rolled into a strange but workable pattern.

Anna still needed help with the majority of her tasks, and Jena still carried out each one without complaint or comment. There were small comic set pieces whenever Anna attempted something grandiose with her limited mobility, or insisted on more elaborate garments than the situation allowed for, or was embarrassed by something Jena saw no reason to be. Underneath it, the care continued in the same steady, sure way that it always had been: reassuring, pragmatic, strangely comforting.

Anna stopped resenting it altogether.

By the following Tuesday the splints were removed.

Anna's wrists were stiff, but at least they weren't sore. She dressed herself that morning with the concentrated care of a woman reasserting a right. She washed her hair. She made her coffee. The relief was physical.

Jena watched without comment, then began to pack up the few items she had brought with her.

At the door Anna stopped her.

"Thank you," she said. The words were simple and entirely sincere. "You didn't have to do all of that. You didn't have to, but you did. It mattered."

Jena nodded, once, as if the thanks were noted.

Anna hesitated, and delivered her final opinion of the entire matter.

"I promise I'm never getting naked again."

Jena considered this for a second.

"Try not to break your arms again," she said, and left.