the volume of the TV set and scanned the
channels thinking to himself how Bruce Springfield had got it right
when he declared ‘fifty-nine channels and nothing on’. The shopping
channel tried its best to sell Leroy a singing Marvin Gaye memorial
doll, Leroy tried his best to stay awake, both failed. Sleep swept
over him without protestation, Leroy kicked back on the reclining
mechanism and within seconds succumbed. The faint drone of the ever
present shopping channel salesperson receded and all was silent in
Leroy’s world, save for the approach of dreams.
SATURDAY
‘Uh...What the …’
Someone was screaming. Leroy woke with a start, confused,
disorientated. He looked around, trying to obtain his bearings,
trying to fix on the noise. It wasn’t screaming. It was loud, very
loud talking.
‘AREN’T THESE DOLLS BEAUTIFUL. GET THEM WHILE YOU CAN, THESE
BABIES ARE GOING TO BE WORTH TRIPLE WHAT YOU PAY FOR THEM NOW IN
JUST THREE YEARS TIME. ISN’T THAT RIGHT KIRSTIN?’
‘ YOU’RE NOT JOKING, BOB. REMEMBER OUR LIBERACE MEMORIAL DOLL,
EIGHTY-FIVE BUCKS TWO FALLS AGO? ONE SOLD AT AUCTION IN MICHIGAN
FOR OVER FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS AND THAT’S NOT ALL; OUR MARVIN GAYE
MEMORIAL DOLL COMES COMPLETE WITH A CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICATION
AND THIS UNIQUE PRESENTATION BOX. WE ARE CONFIDENT THAT YOU WON’T
BUY A BETTER INVESTMENT THIS YEAR THAN THE MARVIN GAYE MEMORIAL
DOLL.’
Leroy stared at the screen finally comprehending where the
noise was coming from; his arm had fallen asleep and gone numb,
pressing his weight on the remote handset’s volume button. He shook
his arm trying to get some life to return to the dead limb. The
remote fell to the floor as a rush of blood brought pins and
needles along with restored feeling.
He bent down and reduced the volume. He stared at the plastic
facsimile of Marvin Gaye.
‘Brother, you better off dead than seeing this shit.’ Leroy
rose from the armchair. Daylight flashed a tentative eye through
the small gap in the curtains. The clock on the wall told him it
was 7-50, Leroy knew that it must be later than that because the
battery had been running down for the past six weeks, it had been
losing up to five minutes a day, though Lia usually reset it at
least once a week. Leroy had been meaning to buy a new battery but
it was way down a long list of things that he meant to do and never
seemed to get the time to get around to. He ambled to the bathroom
quietly, not wanting to wake Lia up, not just yet. He showered and
shaved and put on his towelling robe, ready to make breakfast.
Breakfast in bed with Lia sounded good to Leroy, and after
breakfast maybe a little love. Leroy certainly felt the need of a
little comfort after the past few days. He stood over the stove,
shuffling the bacon rashers back and forward, trying not to weld
them to the non-stick pan. He flipped the eggs over and let them
rest against the blistering surface for only a minute before
removing them and placing them carefully onto the hot buttered
waffles. As bad a cook as he was, Leroy’s stomach was doing a tango
in anticipation of some sustenance. He poured some orange juice and
two cups of freshly brewed coffee, placed them all on a tray and
walked down the hall to the bedroom. The door was pushed too, as
usual; Leroy opened it with his back while keeping the tray in
front of him.
‘Hey, sleepyhead, time for breakfast.’ Leroy turned and faced
an empty bed. The smile faded from his face. ‘Baby?’ He put the
tray on the bed and moved swiftly down the corridor, knocking open
the second bedroom door, empty. The bathroom, the kitchen, the
lounge, the toilet, all-empty. And it slowly dawned on him that
‘empty’ was the correct adjective. How he didn’t notice until now
baffled him. Even when he was in the bathroom he failed to spot
that all of Lia’s wash things had gone. Leroy went to her wardrobe
and pulled it open. The clanging hangers echoed around the house,
sounding the death knell of a home
channels thinking to himself how Bruce Springfield had got it right
when he declared ‘fifty-nine channels and nothing on’. The shopping
channel tried its best to sell Leroy a singing Marvin Gaye memorial
doll, Leroy tried his best to stay awake, both failed. Sleep swept
over him without protestation, Leroy kicked back on the reclining
mechanism and within seconds succumbed. The faint drone of the ever
present shopping channel salesperson receded and all was silent in
Leroy’s world, save for the approach of dreams.
SATURDAY
‘Uh...What the …’
Someone was screaming. Leroy woke with a start, confused,
disorientated. He looked around, trying to obtain his bearings,
trying to fix on the noise. It wasn’t screaming. It was loud, very
loud talking.
‘AREN’T THESE DOLLS BEAUTIFUL. GET THEM WHILE YOU CAN, THESE
BABIES ARE GOING TO BE WORTH TRIPLE WHAT YOU PAY FOR THEM NOW IN
JUST THREE YEARS TIME. ISN’T THAT RIGHT KIRSTIN?’
‘ YOU’RE NOT JOKING, BOB. REMEMBER OUR LIBERACE MEMORIAL DOLL,
EIGHTY-FIVE BUCKS TWO FALLS AGO? ONE SOLD AT AUCTION IN MICHIGAN
FOR OVER FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS AND THAT’S NOT ALL; OUR MARVIN GAYE
MEMORIAL DOLL COMES COMPLETE WITH A CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICATION
AND THIS UNIQUE PRESENTATION BOX. WE ARE CONFIDENT THAT YOU WON’T
BUY A BETTER INVESTMENT THIS YEAR THAN THE MARVIN GAYE MEMORIAL
DOLL.’
Leroy stared at the screen finally comprehending where the
noise was coming from; his arm had fallen asleep and gone numb,
pressing his weight on the remote handset’s volume button. He shook
his arm trying to get some life to return to the dead limb. The
remote fell to the floor as a rush of blood brought pins and
needles along with restored feeling.
He bent down and reduced the volume. He stared at the plastic
facsimile of Marvin Gaye.
‘Brother, you better off dead than seeing this shit.’ Leroy
rose from the armchair. Daylight flashed a tentative eye through
the small gap in the curtains. The clock on the wall told him it
was 7-50, Leroy knew that it must be later than that because the
battery had been running down for the past six weeks, it had been
losing up to five minutes a day, though Lia usually reset it at
least once a week. Leroy had been meaning to buy a new battery but
it was way down a long list of things that he meant to do and never
seemed to get the time to get around to. He ambled to the bathroom
quietly, not wanting to wake Lia up, not just yet. He showered and
shaved and put on his towelling robe, ready to make breakfast.
Breakfast in bed with Lia sounded good to Leroy, and after
breakfast maybe a little love. Leroy certainly felt the need of a
little comfort after the past few days. He stood over the stove,
shuffling the bacon rashers back and forward, trying not to weld
them to the non-stick pan. He flipped the eggs over and let them
rest against the blistering surface for only a minute before
removing them and placing them carefully onto the hot buttered
waffles. As bad a cook as he was, Leroy’s stomach was doing a tango
in anticipation of some sustenance. He poured some orange juice and
two cups of freshly brewed coffee, placed them all on a tray and
walked down the hall to the bedroom. The door was pushed too, as
usual; Leroy opened it with his back while keeping the tray in
front of him.
‘Hey, sleepyhead, time for breakfast.’ Leroy turned and faced
an empty bed. The smile faded from his face. ‘Baby?’ He put the
tray on the bed and moved swiftly down the corridor, knocking open
the second bedroom door, empty. The bathroom, the kitchen, the
lounge, the toilet, all-empty. And it slowly dawned on him that
‘empty’ was the correct adjective. How he didn’t notice until now
baffled him. Even when he was in the bathroom he failed to spot
that all of Lia’s wash things had gone. Leroy went to her wardrobe
and pulled it open. The clanging hangers echoed around the house,
sounding the death knell of a home
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