Face by Benjamin Zephaniah Page B

looking out at a mountain range with its valleys, its highs, and its lows. Martin saw his face as a miniature version of that wilderness. He put the mirror down on his lap and closed his eyes. Now he started to feel anger. His mind flashed back to Saturday night, not to the crash but to the moment just before he got into the car. He was seeing Pete Mosley’s evil smile and hearing his voice saying, ‘Come on, let’s go riding,’ and ‘Have wheels will travel,’ and most painfully, ‘All right, ya gotta go to bed, we’ll just take ya home.’ That was the line that had tricked Martin into the car. He heard the lines over and over again in his head.
    He opened his eyes, looking at the mirror once more, but this time he spoke as he stared. ‘So this is me?’
    Alan replied, ‘It’s you now but as you’ve heard, improvements can be made.’
    Martin handed Alan the mirror and simply closedhis eyes. It was a clear signal to Alan and the nurse to leave. Martin listened to them go and kept his eyes shut. Now the image of his face was fixed in his mind. Then he opened his eyes and as he did so he began to cry uncontrollably. It was as if he had opened an emotional tap. He cried for his old face. He cried for his parents. He cried for Natalie. He cried for Matthew and Mark. He cried for his stupidity. Then he cried for his new face. He cried so much that his stomach hurt, he was out of breath and his eyes hurt. He could feel the tears leaving his eyes but he could not feel them running down his cheeks. He put his head under the sheets and cried himself to sleep. For the first time in his life, Martin cried and made no attempt to stop himself.

Chapter 8
~ The Other Pain ~
    The next day Martin slept late. It was eleven o’clock when he woke up. The anaesthetic, painkillers and the various other drugs he had been given still affected him. Even though he was moving, he didn’t feel fully awake.
    Martin looked around the room. It had been transformed. It was obvious that his parents had been in earlier. Get well cards hung off string on the walls. On the table there was a photo of his parents, a photo of Natalie and his Walkman cassette player, complete with tapes and headphones. As he looked at the headphones, wondering how he could possibly use them, Dr Owens entered the room with his mother and father following her.
    The doctor was the first to speak. ‘Hello, Martin.’
    â€˜I’m awake again,’ Martin said as his parents went to one side of the bed and the doctor to the other. ‘I’m not sure how I’m going to get those headphones around my head though.’His mother smiled. ‘Well, your sense of humour is fine.’
    Dr Owens went on to explain to Martin that some surgery would be recommended for cosmetic reasons, but that she thought it was best to let the skin heal as much as it could before then.
    â€˜From now on,’ she said, ‘nature should do the best it can.’
    She then pulled over a chair and sat down looking at Martin with a matter of fact look on her face. ‘Martin, I have just explained to your parents that the skin on your face will never be as it was before. I expect your legs and hands to heal up soon, and we’ll have your stitches out, but you will have to be patient with your face.’
    Martin turned to look at his parents. His mother was struggling to hold back the tears, and her voice trembled as she spoke. ‘We love you, son. We’ll do all we can for you, you know it.’
    Dr Owens took a deep breath and continued, ‘I understand that you have known Mark Thorpe for a long time.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Martin replied. ‘Where is he? How bad is he?’
    â€˜He was released from this hospital today. He has two broken ribs and a fractured wrist. Now – Graham Fisher?’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Graham Fisher.’
    Martin’s father interrupted, ‘The driver of