Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Part X- Cos if you hold it too close, you lose it

'Oh Honey I'm so glad your safe'

I look down to check for the tell-all cannon hole, but I can only see peroxide blonde and violet spasms engulfing my face, pungent with vanilla, ammonium, cinnamon and cherry blossom.

'Hey mum',

'Oh my god, sweety you're awake! You were mumbling like nobody's business, are you alright in there?'

I choose not to answer, you've always been full of silly questions.
'How was your day', 'would you mind babysitting', 'have you done your homework'.
etc, etc.
As usual, I mumble.

You sit up.
My stomach hurts...
Why does my stomach hurt?

Oh right, the cannon hole.

Wait hang on, cannon hole??

'What happened?'

Silence.

Wait, my mother, silent??
Something bad...

Something very bad...

'...mum...'

'I....sweety....'

Speechless.

Oh god.

'.....mum?'

'...'

....

'I...I can't say it sweetheart. I... I'll tell you as soon as I can'.

Whats that supposed to mean?
And why is it such a big deal to tell me why my stomach hurts?

Oh well, might as well catch up on the last 37 seasons of Bold and the Beautiful while I wait for her to pull herself together, she probably had another breakup or something.

Now where is that remote?

Ah, there. -click-

'Yet another development on the horrifying tragedy unfolding today, as yet another body is removed from the school centre. We cannot state for certain the death toll, but at present we estimate it to be at least ten.'

Hang on... that courtyard...those double doors, that ugly green council sign.
my school?

As the reporter babbles something about parents picking up their kids, I find myself staring at my stomach, not remembering moving my gaze there.

I think to look at my mother, after what seems like an eternity, full of blank memories, meaningless pain, and the shadow of a thought that I do not want to know why my stomach hurts.

I remember a movie I saw when I was little, called a little princess. long story short, girl in school, father in army, father thought dead, girl servant. father not dead, next door with amnesia, girl finds father, father remembers girl, lovely reuniting scene in the rain.

But before that he says something I never understood, when he couldnt remember what he felt was missing. 'how strange to have your heart remember something your mind does not' and I know what he means now.

And it hurts, my heart hurts.
Profoundly, deeply, unreasonably.

I look to my mother, who stares blankly out of the window some more, unchanged but for the tears rolling down her face, silent and acidic.

She finds me looking at her, she says your name and something else after that, but I can't hear it over my own screaming.

But you keep talking, as if I am saying nothing.
Hang on, why aren't I screaming?

how can I be silent when she just said what she said...

I don't know how, but I don't think I'll ever speak again

1 comment:

  1. your story's really good louise
    i wish i could write well.
    my stories just end up as rambles and i give up......
    -it's jema btw

    ReplyDelete