Page 49 - WTP Vol.IX #3

‘Samaritans. Ambulance. Triage. Saved.’
She nudged my hand then wiped the frappuccino froth off her lip and told me to get in touch, said if I didn’t, she’d hunt me down. I laughed. She laughed.
She said she had to pick up Jasmine from piano. I went home.
Mum was out.
In the silence I heard tears fall.
Kirsty’s?
Mine?
Mrs Chestnut’s the other side of town as she thought of all the kids she’s saved... and the one she didn’t?
I am sitting on the sofa. Again. I can’t stand it. The words ‘highflyer’ and ‘sparkiest’ cut holes in my head.
I go in the kitchen, wipe the surfaces, clean the fridge, put out the bin, collect the clothes left scattered all over the floor of the house, and chuck them in the wash. I sit there listening to them churn round in the machine.
Door slam. Mum home. Non smiley face, mascara like oil slicks on her cheeks, handbag dumped on the table, her stuff spills out and onto the floor. Uncle Dennis has dumped her. His wife found out; and he’s sticking with her.
As they do.
Mum takes his toothbrush out of the glass by the basin in the bathroom, snaps it in half, throws it into the street.
She sobs.
I tell her he isn’t worth it.
She tells me she’s not crying for him
or for herself
but for me.
She tells me she saw me earlier talking to Mrs Chest- nut in town. She says what she saw was nice and she hated it. She takes in a huge gasp that catches her throat like a hook.
She opens the back door and says,
“Iknew she was choosing not
to let us step into a dark place.”
‘Elaine, look who’s there? See?
No-one.
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