I recently wrote this for my advanced fiction writing class. I hope you enjoy it:
She
fell into the mattress, swallowed into memories past. The Man was there, and
the Woman. Their voices rang off the walls, charging up to the Girl's ears in a
roaring song of battle. The Girl wrapped her arms round her body. Sleep,
she thought to herself.
All
at once, she awoke in the grown-up bed in the house that did not smell like dog
hair and sweat. She breathed deeply; the air was clean. Above her head, the
window was ajar. The curtains were open. Don't keep the curtains open -
this is a house, not a shop window.
Not
every night was like the previous. Some nights the memories stayed downstairs:
they did not creep past her door and bare their teeth. But since the Man died,
they had begun to fester under her pillows.
The
Girl put on an ill-fitting skirt and a drab blouse. It did not matter what she
wore - never did. She scraped back her hair - the one thing she liked about
herself. She had tried very hard, but she could not be sad that he was gone. She
poured her cereal into a bowl and silently scorned herself for the size of the
portion. That's why you're so fat - you eat so much. Nope, that didn't
affect her, not as much anymore. She was going to eat it, wasn't she? Most
people today probably wouldn't be eating any breakfast; their stomachs would be
heavy with grief. Why was she not like them?
The
walk to the Woman's house was short and brisk. Leaves, the same copper shade as
her hair, pooled at her feet and stuck to her plain shoes. She added her
bouquet to the arrangement on the driveway. So many flowers; so much guilt. She
was surprised there were so many tributes here because she was expecting a
small funeral. The Man had not been a sociable creature. The Girl bent to read
the cards on the flowers. The first one was from her younger sister: Thank
you for being the best father in the world. The Girl felt a lump in her
throat. She closed her eyes. She decided not to read any more cards.
The
Girl listened as the strangers talked about a good man. A peacemaker.
The Girl fought vomit. He was taken too soon, they said. She
wondered if she had any memories to share of the Man. There was her hamster
lying bloodied in his ball after it had been kicked across the garden. And
there was her china tea set, so delicate and pretty, lying in pieces in its box
where it had 'fallen' from the shelf. No. The Girl did not have any memories of
her stepfather that were suitable for a wake.
She
hurried along the road, feeling in her pocket. The plastic rope felt cool in
her hands. The path at the back of the library led down to the brook wood, full
of solid old trees. It was dark there. Slumped against a tree, each tear was a
miserable little orgasm, a triumph of pain.
Everything I was, everything I
became was never enough. And the Man had been enough. His wake was
proof. The Girl's funeral would not be like that. She had been a horrible
little girl; everyone said so. She had punched and bitten, lied and stolen. She
had not known how to be any other way.
She
pulled the cord from her pocket and unrolled it, winding the end round her
fingers. She glanced above her head at a solid-looking branch. She could tie
the right knots; she had read about it on the internet.
"I
don't think you want to do that."
"Who
- who said that?" Her voice wavered. She glanced round anxiously. Settled against
the trunk of a nearby tree was a stranger. "Who are you?" she
whispered. "I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“If
you must know I live nearer to the city." He uncrossed his arms. "But
I’m here for my business."
"What’s
your business?"
"You,"
he said, "and you do not want to do that."
He nodded at the plastic rope.
"How
do you know?"
"I
already told you; it's my business. It has brought you here, hasn't it?"
"I
can't forgive him. I'm the only one who can't."
"But
nobody is asking you to forgive anyone. The question here is, do you want to
keep on living?"
"No."
"You
do. You just don't know what else to do with yourself."
"There's
nothing I can do with myself," she said scornfully. "Now
leave me alone so ..."
"No.
I have something for you. It's all part of my business."
"What
might that be?"
"They're
over there." He nodded towards the fence bordering the library. "Two
saplings, down at the bottom. See?"
She
leaned forward, squinting. Right near the ground were two green streaks of life.
"I see them."
"In
exactly five days, I want you to come back here to see how they have grown.”
"What?"
The Girl frowned at the saplings, then back at the stranger. "Firstly,
that's a barbed wire fence. Those trees aren't going to grow far next to a
barbed wire fence. And secondly, even if they did grow...they won't do
much in a week."
He
cocked an eyebrow. "Five days. You come back here and listen to what I
have to say. If you don't like it, you can carry out your original plans."
The
Girl was not sure what she was being offered, not even sure she was awake. She
thumbed the rope. Could she bear another week?
"Yes,
you can," said the stranger. "Five days is nothing. And yet, it could
be everything."
"Fine,"
she said eventually, mostly because she needed to escape.
"One
more thing," he said. "Come here. Closer."
The
Girl stepped toward him with caution. She felt the tickle of his hot breath
against her neck and stiffened. There was a sharp, wet pain and she jerked
away. "You bit me!" She retreated back to the shadow of her tree,
touching the two curved, red welts upon her pale skin.
"I've
made you the same as everybody else. Just for the week."
The
same as everyone else? She realized that she didn't know quite what it was.
She
left the wood feeling different. If she believed in Hallmark-type feelings,
she'd have said she had a spring in her step.
The
stranger didn't feel real. Yet the bite was still present on her neck, the pain
vague and sweet. It seemed to have twisted her world on its axis. Why would
someone want to help?
The
Woman called and invited her for dinner on Thursday. The Girl wondered how
anything was meant to be normal in the old house. The Woman was pleasant to
her.
"How
are you coping after the funeral?" the Girl asked.
"I
can't really believe he's gone. I know
he wasn't a saint, but I can't help but miss him. And you know how your brother
feels..."
The
Girl's stomach lurched as she listened to the Woman's sadness, and for a
second, wondered if she was finally experiencing grief. No. She still did not
feel anything for the Man. But she felt for those who grieved him. She
understood their loss and wanted to be of comfort. She felt.
***
She
reached the tree she had slumped against five days ago, rope in hand. It was
uncomfortable to think about it, but sure enough, the rope was there now. She
reached down to pick it up.
"You
see, I told you I'd let you have it back," said the stranger.
"Thank
you," she said.
"So
how have the past few days been?”
“Better
than I had expected."
"Have
you seen the saplings?" The stranger nodded towards the fence behind her.
She
turned and walked over to the fence, bracken crackling beneath her heels. The
first sapling had tried to grow around the barbed wire, and was distorted, its
trunk warped. Its branches seemed to tuck back into itself rather than reaching
for the sun. The second tree had grown up normally, its trunk thick, leaves
lustrous. When she examined it she realized that the barbed wire was running right
through it. And yet...it looked so healthy.
"Well
then," he said, "Which one are you?"
"I
suppose I'm the crappy tree. I tried, but I went...wrong."
"That's
not how you've been this week, is it?"
"No,
I guess not," she replied. "But I don't understand; the healthy tree
still has the barbed wire straight through. It must hurt. How can it
be...normal?"
"Maybe
it is normal."
The
Girl nodded. She understood now. She could be damaged inside and it wouldn't
matter. She could still be happy.
"Are you going to turn me back?" she
asked him, nervously.
"To
what?” He chuckled, “I didn't do anything."
"But
you bit me!"
"Because
it made you feel something."
"So
you mean...I can stay as I am?"
"As
you always were," he replied.
A
warm smile spread across her face; it had never felt so good to smile. The Girl
lingered a moment before turning on her heel. She made her way back up the
brook wood path and out into the sunshine.
