Page 48 - WTP Vol.IX #3

Chestnut (continued from preceding page)
the first place.
So A Tragedy Stays.
Mum’s pulling grey hairs out in front of the hallway mirror. She says, ‘You’re drinking at the Last Chance Saloon, Suzie.’ I tell her to stick her metaphor up her arse. That’s a lie, I say ‘Thanks Mum. What time are you back from Dennis’s?’ The Yaris is revving. She leaves.
I didn’t revise today; instead I went into town. Bumped into a ghost.
I phone Kirsty.
‘You ok?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your gran OK?’
‘Yes.’
‘You still love me?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you’re at uni and I’m not, can I come visit?’
‘Yes.’
‘I met Mrs Chestnut in town today, outside the library. Remember Mrs Chestnut?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know when we were kids? That she was all fat and anxious and got sacked cos the SATS results were so bad?’
Kirsty took in a breath, but I powered through.
‘Liam got it wrong. She wasn’t fat, she wasn’t anx- ious, she wasn’t sacked. She was pregnant. She went off on maternity leave, had a baby called Jasmine. She’s back at the school now, has been for years she said.’
Kirsty was silent. I was silent.
I had been carrying the myth around for years, like the Titanic round my neck, that I was responsible.
Stupid. I am the most stupidly stupid person in the 41
whole stupid world. But, I now knew one thing... ‘Kirsty, it was nothing to do with me was it.’
Kirsty kept listening. Like a cloud. Like the sea. Like the most beautiful non-judgmental friend she al- ways was.
‘And we walked together past B and M then down past the library. She held my arm and she asked me what I was up to. I told her ‘Not much.’ And she asked where I was going to Uni.’ And I said, ‘Nowhere.’
And Mrs Chestnut
stopped walking
and looked at me.
Her eyes straight into mine. Like a divining rod. A radar. A laser. An X-Ray Machine.
‘I didn’t tell her I never did exams, have never done exams, always backed out of everything.’
‘She knew. All of it. Everything.’
And she held my hand and said... nothing in words.
She gave a slow breathing out.
I knew she was choosing not to let us step into a dark place.
She smiled and said, as if she could lift the Titanic and get it sailing again, ‘You, Elaine, you were my high-flyer. You’re the brightest, cleverest, sparki-
est of all the human beings I’ve ever taught. Never forget that.’
Mrs Chestnut had no love bites.
And I thought Jasmine must be the luckiest little blob in the whole universe.
She bought me a coffee and we sat and drank it, I said nothing, but she knew everything. Everything.
I said to her, ‘You remember the SATS?’ She said she was
‘Sceptical About Testing Systems.’
And she knew some people were
‘Shite At Tests. Simple.’
Then, and I don’t know what it meant, but I thought,