1 May 2012
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with my parents, downstairs in our living room. The room is "biscotti" in colour and adorned with teal and grey accents. I don't really like it. It says nothing about us as a family, all generic, off the peg art and decorative stuff from high street stores, none of it tells a story. There is very little evidence of my brother anymore. I think I like that part though.
We chat about stuff and my Dad is warm and funny, Mum seems to be breathing more steadily now. That is until I forget and remove my cardi. I can tell she had seen something from the widening of her grey eyes and the sudden urge to send me to the garage for more kitchen roll.
Returning I suddenly grasp what "cut the atmosphere with a knife" is really on about. They are clustered round the breakfast bar in the kitchen, Mum's back is to me but her stance swells with anger.
"why?" Is all she can manage to say before the mask cracks. It's as if the gorgon of Greek myths inhabits my mother's slim frame. I have seen her like this before and know how each of our roles must play out.
"Cordi, you must understand we have listened to you in the Doctor's this afternoon. You all but swore this hadn't been happening."
Dad paused to draw breath and collect his thoughts. So she pounced, I swear if any Arganoughts had be around fire would had shot from her eyes. I held firm. A few bruises, old pear yellow in colour were just visible below my 3/4 length sleeves. She poked them. I winced. I wished I hadn't immediately.
" You lied. After all that's happened. After all.... Is this some kind of revenge?"
"For what?"
"For being left out, attention seeking after Ben."
I scoffed. Annoyance bubbled up and it was only the sight of my Dad's once youthful face looking drawn and ashen, that I withdrew. Slightly.
"You wish!"
And that's were I left it. Retreating to my bedroom. The place that I had once used in a visualisation lesson in Humanities as my safe place. Only it wasn't anymore. And even though I felt like I was a stranger in my own room, that there could be something unavoidably terrifying nestling in fibres of my room. I sat in the dark illuminated only by my phone and started to reach out to Anya, in the hope that her sanity would reunite my own.
I was waiting for her to reply a second time when tiredness clubbed me and I slipped unwillingly to sleep.
No Title.... Part 7 • Opuss № I