them, still assuming they were there for us. We’re like cartoon characters strolling off a cliff into mid-air. How long were we suspended there (
years?
) before I walked in on Dad and Ricky and started falling? Now one by one we’ll all realise, anddrop—and who knows what’ll happen when five people hit bottom? Oh God.
Everything
will change.
Already
everything is different. Between yesterday and today, so much knowing: the blue line across the tester window, the shush of an envelope under a door. Disaster upon disaster, happening so quietly.
Disaster inside me. Leading Pug on to it, really; lying, or moving into a lie; being on the Pill and then forgetting, and not saying, and finally forgetting so often that I’d stopped being on it, and not saying.
I sit up and push back the blanket, listening to the headache, which diffuses forward through my brain, but isn’t very strong. My shoes and socks are right there next to the bed; bending to put them on I ignore the apple inside me, ignore it for a bit longer.
Then the gate clashes and I jump up.
It’s just a Jehovah’s Witness, someone selling vacuum cleaners
. The front door slams. I pick up my jumper and bag.
Pug fills the doorway, in his old black tracksuit with the hood. I’m standing in the middle of the room, red-handed.
‘What’s up?’
‘I have to go.’ I head for the thread of space between him and the doorpost.
‘You feeling okay?’ He closes off the space.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Although nausea throbs in my throat.
‘You goin’ home?’
‘Yeah.’ It sounds like a lie.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No! I mean, I’ll be fine. I’ve got some thinking to do. You’d be—I’ve got to work out what to say to Mum, and everything.’ Babble, babble.
He must know exactly what I’m up to. He grabs me with a thump. ‘Mel?’
‘What?’ That little space has opened up again, but my arms are pinned to my body.
‘You tell
me
what. When are you comin’ back?’
‘I don’t know. I have to see what happens at home.’
He tries to see my face. ‘You were gunna just go, weren’t you? Without say in’. Without leavin’ a note. Were you gunna come back?’ He shakes me. ‘Like,
ever
?’ He takes this outlandish thought out of my head and flaps it in front of my eyes.
I look up in shock. ‘What?’ I try for a scowl of disbelief that doesn’t quite come off.
‘The way you’re acting. Like, you’re running away. What’s up? I don’t mean with your dad and that. I mean with you and me.’
‘Nothing’s wrong with you and me.’ I say it as firmly as possible and look straight into his eyes.
Except that I can’t fool myself any longer. I am absolutely on my own. Absolutely, and so are you
.
‘Why are you runnin’, then? Why are you lookin’ like that?’
Because I’m bad for you. Because you were right; I will move on
.
His letting go sets me back a pace; there’s a thrust in it, of anger.
‘Will you let me past, please?’ I say quietly, presenting the top of my head to him.
‘Will you come back?’
Too long a pause. ‘Sure.’ I still don’t look up.
‘Mel?’ His voice shrinking.
Beware quietness, where disaster happens
.
I push him aside like a gauze curtain, this man who can stop a 76-kilo fighter. I don’t look back. I swing round the post on the landing and thud down the stairs. I’m a coward; I’m running; I’m gone.
I ring Mum from King Street. It sounds as if a corpse answers the phone. ‘Yes.’ Not even ‘Hullo?’
‘It’s me.’
‘Oh. I suppose it’s too much to expect you went to school today?’
‘I went to a friend’s. I had a bad migraine.’
‘Right. So you’re checking how badly you’re in trouble now, hey?’
I laugh, embarrassed. ‘I guess.’
She doesn’t sound amused. ‘Well, I’ve run out of anger for today. You might as well come home.’
‘Is Dad there?’
She snorts. ‘You think he’d
stay
? By
choice
? With boring old
me
?’
Pause.
years?
) before I walked in on Dad and Ricky and started falling? Now one by one we’ll all realise, anddrop—and who knows what’ll happen when five people hit bottom? Oh God.
Everything
will change.
Already
everything is different. Between yesterday and today, so much knowing: the blue line across the tester window, the shush of an envelope under a door. Disaster upon disaster, happening so quietly.
Disaster inside me. Leading Pug on to it, really; lying, or moving into a lie; being on the Pill and then forgetting, and not saying, and finally forgetting so often that I’d stopped being on it, and not saying.
I sit up and push back the blanket, listening to the headache, which diffuses forward through my brain, but isn’t very strong. My shoes and socks are right there next to the bed; bending to put them on I ignore the apple inside me, ignore it for a bit longer.
Then the gate clashes and I jump up.
It’s just a Jehovah’s Witness, someone selling vacuum cleaners
. The front door slams. I pick up my jumper and bag.
Pug fills the doorway, in his old black tracksuit with the hood. I’m standing in the middle of the room, red-handed.
‘What’s up?’
‘I have to go.’ I head for the thread of space between him and the doorpost.
‘You feeling okay?’ He closes off the space.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Although nausea throbs in my throat.
‘You goin’ home?’
‘Yeah.’ It sounds like a lie.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No! I mean, I’ll be fine. I’ve got some thinking to do. You’d be—I’ve got to work out what to say to Mum, and everything.’ Babble, babble.
He must know exactly what I’m up to. He grabs me with a thump. ‘Mel?’
‘What?’ That little space has opened up again, but my arms are pinned to my body.
‘You tell
me
what. When are you comin’ back?’
‘I don’t know. I have to see what happens at home.’
He tries to see my face. ‘You were gunna just go, weren’t you? Without say in’. Without leavin’ a note. Were you gunna come back?’ He shakes me. ‘Like,
ever
?’ He takes this outlandish thought out of my head and flaps it in front of my eyes.
I look up in shock. ‘What?’ I try for a scowl of disbelief that doesn’t quite come off.
‘The way you’re acting. Like, you’re running away. What’s up? I don’t mean with your dad and that. I mean with you and me.’
‘Nothing’s wrong with you and me.’ I say it as firmly as possible and look straight into his eyes.
Except that I can’t fool myself any longer. I am absolutely on my own. Absolutely, and so are you
.
‘Why are you runnin’, then? Why are you lookin’ like that?’
Because I’m bad for you. Because you were right; I will move on
.
His letting go sets me back a pace; there’s a thrust in it, of anger.
‘Will you let me past, please?’ I say quietly, presenting the top of my head to him.
‘Will you come back?’
Too long a pause. ‘Sure.’ I still don’t look up.
‘Mel?’ His voice shrinking.
Beware quietness, where disaster happens
.
I push him aside like a gauze curtain, this man who can stop a 76-kilo fighter. I don’t look back. I swing round the post on the landing and thud down the stairs. I’m a coward; I’m running; I’m gone.
I ring Mum from King Street. It sounds as if a corpse answers the phone. ‘Yes.’ Not even ‘Hullo?’
‘It’s me.’
‘Oh. I suppose it’s too much to expect you went to school today?’
‘I went to a friend’s. I had a bad migraine.’
‘Right. So you’re checking how badly you’re in trouble now, hey?’
I laugh, embarrassed. ‘I guess.’
She doesn’t sound amused. ‘Well, I’ve run out of anger for today. You might as well come home.’
‘Is Dad there?’
She snorts. ‘You think he’d
stay
? By
choice
? With boring old
me
?’
Pause.
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