Blink of an Eye (2013) by Cath Staincliffe Page A
Authors: Cath Staincliffe
Tags: General/Fiction
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round the gap, I try from different angles, but my teeth are on edge and there’s a jittery feeling in my stomach. Any moment something could rear up and bite me, devour me. Am I too scared to remember the crash? Because it was frightening? I can’t remember any of it, sights or sounds, what the accident felt like; it’s like catching smoke.
And earlier, further down the dark corridor? Outside their house, Alex kissed me – yes. Were we coming or going? And food. Piles of food, lots of colours. So beautiful you’d think it had been airbrushed for a magazine. Was that the same day? It could have been some other time. Suzanne always goes all out for it; the way it looks is as important to her as how it tastes. I see the food and try and touch on something either side of that recollection, but there is only space, empty space, grey and swirling in mist. It’s like blind man’s buff, fumbling my way further back with my arms outstretched, fingers stiff, holding my breath. All the other players have gone and left me there, blindfolded, flailing like an idiot. I give up.
I try a rational approach: if we were at the barbecue, then we must have got ready beforehand. This thought produces sweet FA. No glimpse of what I wore or when we left or whether we took a bottle to contribute.
I remember hearing about the job, though! There like solid ground, land ahoy. I remember Alex getting back to ours, his face all bright, and yelling at me with excitement. Punching the air and shaking his head. And me running at him, launching myself at him, wrapping my legs around his thighs and clinging on, kissing. Kissing him. That’s it. Kissing him at home and then again at Suzanne’s . . . then the ICU. No stepping stones in between. The film stops running and there aren’t even any snapshots unless you count the food, and I don’t count it, it tells me nothing. Some crappy product placement: here is Suzanne’s feast! Cut and pasted on a blank page. So there is nothing until service resumes at the hospital.
I want to see Alex. I want to kiss him. Though the furry teeth need a deep clean first. I want to be better and go home and get on with everything. Looking for a flat or rooms in a shared house. And he’ll need to get some clothes: shirts and suits. God, sounding a bit Suze-ish there (she hates being called Suze). She chooses Jonty’s clothes, you know. Buys stuff for him.
Alex doesn’t understand it when I talk about Suzanne. He thinks she’s fine – maybe a bit scary, I got him to admit that much. He reckons I’m exaggerating the way she has to control everything and boss me about. He’s never experienced anything like that because he’s an only child. He only had his mum to quarrel with and they actually get on really well. She’s so proud of him and she worked and brought him up pretty much on her own, though her mother looked after him when Monica was away.
Alex thinks Suzanne’s funny, the way she criticizes people, and she can sometimes be very arch, dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not such a laugh if you’re the target.
It’ll be so cool to be on our own again. I hope I get a job; I’ll do anything really. I wouldn’t want to be stuck at home while he’s out in the world doing stuff.
I wonder who crashed into us?
CHAPTER NINE
Carmel
I walked up to the shops and bought some food. It was the first chore I’d done for days and it had that unreal quality to it, like the first hours home after a foreign holiday. Everything’s familiar but you notice things with a keener eye, an edge of objectivity. The high street looked neglected, everything from the tatty awnings outside the shops to the litter on the pavement and the carcass of a bicycle, its wheels and saddle missing, chained to a metal pole.
After I’d got some fruit and vegetables and bread, I went into the butcher’s for chicken. The butcher was making conversation with the customer ahead of me, talk of the summer weather forecast,
And earlier, further down the dark corridor? Outside their house, Alex kissed me – yes. Were we coming or going? And food. Piles of food, lots of colours. So beautiful you’d think it had been airbrushed for a magazine. Was that the same day? It could have been some other time. Suzanne always goes all out for it; the way it looks is as important to her as how it tastes. I see the food and try and touch on something either side of that recollection, but there is only space, empty space, grey and swirling in mist. It’s like blind man’s buff, fumbling my way further back with my arms outstretched, fingers stiff, holding my breath. All the other players have gone and left me there, blindfolded, flailing like an idiot. I give up.
I try a rational approach: if we were at the barbecue, then we must have got ready beforehand. This thought produces sweet FA. No glimpse of what I wore or when we left or whether we took a bottle to contribute.
I remember hearing about the job, though! There like solid ground, land ahoy. I remember Alex getting back to ours, his face all bright, and yelling at me with excitement. Punching the air and shaking his head. And me running at him, launching myself at him, wrapping my legs around his thighs and clinging on, kissing. Kissing him. That’s it. Kissing him at home and then again at Suzanne’s . . . then the ICU. No stepping stones in between. The film stops running and there aren’t even any snapshots unless you count the food, and I don’t count it, it tells me nothing. Some crappy product placement: here is Suzanne’s feast! Cut and pasted on a blank page. So there is nothing until service resumes at the hospital.
I want to see Alex. I want to kiss him. Though the furry teeth need a deep clean first. I want to be better and go home and get on with everything. Looking for a flat or rooms in a shared house. And he’ll need to get some clothes: shirts and suits. God, sounding a bit Suze-ish there (she hates being called Suze). She chooses Jonty’s clothes, you know. Buys stuff for him.
Alex doesn’t understand it when I talk about Suzanne. He thinks she’s fine – maybe a bit scary, I got him to admit that much. He reckons I’m exaggerating the way she has to control everything and boss me about. He’s never experienced anything like that because he’s an only child. He only had his mum to quarrel with and they actually get on really well. She’s so proud of him and she worked and brought him up pretty much on her own, though her mother looked after him when Monica was away.
Alex thinks Suzanne’s funny, the way she criticizes people, and she can sometimes be very arch, dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not such a laugh if you’re the target.
It’ll be so cool to be on our own again. I hope I get a job; I’ll do anything really. I wouldn’t want to be stuck at home while he’s out in the world doing stuff.
I wonder who crashed into us?
CHAPTER NINE
Carmel
I walked up to the shops and bought some food. It was the first chore I’d done for days and it had that unreal quality to it, like the first hours home after a foreign holiday. Everything’s familiar but you notice things with a keener eye, an edge of objectivity. The high street looked neglected, everything from the tatty awnings outside the shops to the litter on the pavement and the carcass of a bicycle, its wheels and saddle missing, chained to a metal pole.
After I’d got some fruit and vegetables and bread, I went into the butcher’s for chicken. The butcher was making conversation with the customer ahead of me, talk of the summer weather forecast,
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