Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
And there it was. I’d heard it in my own voice. I wanted to laugh at the banality of it. Couldn’t I have come up with something cooler, more original. Mummy issues.
“That sounds hard to deal with.”
“You think?” I snapped, relenting immediately as I shifted, again, in my seat. “Sorry.”
“Tell me about them. What’s your mother like?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Why? You didn’t know her.”
“But I know you, and I’m sorry for you.”
I’d never really understood the whole apologising for something you had nothing to do with schtick, but the rest of the world seemed to gel with it so I let it go. “My mum was…” I trailed off, sucked in a deep breath. “She was impatient. Selfish. Irritable. Sad, a lot of the time. Eventually, she became a drunk. Stopped caring altogether.” I started laughing through a pitiful smile. “Could be describing myself, huh.”
Phoebe didn’t comment. Didn’t laugh with me.
“I also remember her laugh, though. It’s the weirdest thing, the happy moments. They don’t…fit. Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve dreamt them and turned them into memories.”
“Want to share one with me?”
Did I? Why not? I was telling her everything else. Even stuff I hadn’t planned to kept tumbling out of my mouth of its own accord. “It’s really not that interesting…” I felt it only fair to warn her. I got bored easily listening to other people’s stories. My mind would wander. I’d start to stare at other things, allow other thoughts into my head. It was rude, I’d been told countless times as a kid, but I couldn’t seem to help it.
“That’s for me to decide. I’ll let you know if I get bored.”
I liked that answer. Why couldn’t everyone be that honest? It would save so many people getting offended. “Okay, so, my dad took me shopping one day. I must’ve been, six, seven maybe. Nowhere fancy, just the supermarket. At the checkout, the cashier asked if I wanted a go of the barcode scanner. She smiled down at me, held up the grey gun with this cool looking red laser. I really wanted a turn of that thing. Wanted to know how that hard plastic casing felt in my hand. Wanted to hear the lil’ beep. I knew I would feel real grown up, you know? Like she was, the checkout lady. But…I couldn’t answer her.”
“You didn’t have a turn of the scanner?”
“I shook my head, tried to cuddle into my dad’s side. Hide. He pushed me away, told me to get out from under his feet while he packed the bags. But, fuck, I…I can still feel how hard my heart raced thinking about that scanner. I wanted to do it so badly, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say yes. It had been sprung on me too quickly, I guess. Of course, that was all I could think about for the rest of the day. All the way home, I replayed the situation over and over in my head. I went over what I should’ve said a thousand times. When we got in, I just headed upstairs and cried. Didn’t talk for the rest of the day.”
Wrap it up, my mind’s voice interrupted. I studied Phoebe’s face, looked for signs of boredom in her expression. She smiled. I took that as a green light to continue.
“Anyway, I said this was a happy memory, and it’s coming, honest. So, when I didn’t answer Mum’s call to come down for dinner, she came looking, found me in a ball on my bed, face buried in my jumper. I did that a lot, then. Hid my face. ‘Is this about what happened at the supermarket?’ she asked me. I remember my breath stopping for a second. No one ever seemed to know what was happening in my head…and I was never able to tell them. But she knew and I was really fucking happy about it. Relieved.”
“Had your father told her?”
“I guess so. Didn’t ask. I was just so thrilled someone knew. She knew. My mum. And I hadn’t needed to say a word. Next thing, I felt something digging into my palm. I closed my fingers around it, curious, you know. Mum told me she didn’t have a scanner, but she used this fob at work to get into the offices and it had a laser just like the things at the shops. She said when I was ready, we could go scan some stuff in the kitchen. I felt a bit stupid at first, but I’d practised what I should’ve said to the checkout lady a thousand times, so I made myself do it. I pulled my jumper off my face and I pushed that tiny word out. ‘Okay.’
“It only took a few minutes for me to stop feeling self-conscious. I stood at one side of the kitchen table while Mum brought me tins and packets of biscuits from the cupboard. I remember ‘charging’ her, like, fifty quid for a packet of Hobnobs. That’s what did it, made her laugh. She had a real throaty laugh, like a smoker. Funny, I can’t remember if she smoked or not. If she did, she probably hid it from my dad. He hated that shit. Anyway, I think that’s my favourite memory. Like I said, it’s nothing special, but she made me feel better that day. She …understood. For that one day, she got me. Had my back. I felt like she loved me that day.”