Happiness some say is not with other people? Is that right? Can other people make one unhappy? Where are the companions I longed to find? I am turning into stone my heart is crackling with glee to see so many of my pieces in there here and everywhere. I must find the piece that fits my heart. Where did I go wrong what turning was the wrong turning? Where did life cripple this poor woman? Look she is prostrate crying in shame she has suffered she never had a proper relationship until 51. What has she done that is a crime what is her sin? Where did she go wrong? What tide did twist her arm? What has fate done to her this woman in the dock alone weeping to be heard because now she is in charge of an imbecile her mother and she doesn’t want to be? Her family have deserted her; she is cast into the land of the carer she earns about £100 a week she has been on that for most of her life. There she goes in the dock cast aside neglected she is to be stoned by her neglected heart she will not be heard first she shall be stoned with her tears which have cast her in shame as she is breaking under the strain of her weight. Her will power is deserting her she has become a cast away on a ship going nowhere forever at sea forever at sea an anchor she shall rot at sea. She understands most would not but she understands where she went wrong but she doesn’t want to admit she has been at fault if someone had bothered to explain it to her maybe she would have understood. The verdict is not been reached the jury have difficulty finding if there is a case to be answered the jury have been out for a long time. The many tears she has found to release her chains. She can’t walk the dog forever she has to find something to do with herself. Maybe she should go to a ball and party like everyone else? She is not invited she creates boredom she doesn’t like crowds she is shy. What is the meaning of this scandal what is the meaning of these words? Undo, erase it at once this is a no nonsense world where no mistakes are allowed. Please sir will you go to hell and leave me to rot? There are no corpses and one cannot cop it if there aren’t any death scenes. This is a respectable novel with nothing happening. Just like Henry James you know William James brother? Who are they when they are at home? Were at home you mean they have sadly become no longer living and able to create it is a sad fact of life that death comes to everyone and living die too.
“Are you threatening me bitch?”
“Yes I am taking all my belongings and giving them to Germany. That will teach everybody a lesson including me.”
“Why give to Germany why not Cyprus?”
“Because Cyprus has the mafia and too many relatives with wit they will steal my things and I will not be intimidated by those people who have nothing but blood.”
“What about Britain?”
“Britain does not pay its artists so I think I best leave it to those people who have shown me a bit of kindness.”
“That is that then you are suicidal?” Homicidal I fear I am about to murder my babies my novels my plays my stories I am putting them into a pile and setting alight to them so that no one will see the struggle I made that they will just see this lazy good for nothing slattern and that will be that. I am not free without this greed this hunger this life what else is there? There is fulfilment somewhere? No there is absolutely nothing but enmity and pomposity and nothing but being nothing. I a servant of my mum and the sand castle the family I will wash up do the meals and make violent passionate love only to have nothing. Be nowhere anything at all but a waste of space. I am a waste of space actually someone else must do all this work. I am sure people will take pride in my achievements they are out there beaver away trying to destroy what there is of mine. All this is very inconvenient you know. It is not done it is not Tiffin. When is the time for all that sort of things you fool? What with the ageing population how many of us Emine’s are there? We glide merrily having missed our chances and we spend the rest of our lives missing boats and ships and volcanoes and canoes and sinking sands and shifting ground. Is it any wonder that there is nothing to do but to be a carer with plenty of non caring thoughts?
I myself you know has the jury issued a verdict am I to be released from the tyranny of myself? This exiled thoughtless me? This exiled thoughtless drifter this lack of commonsensical nonsensical thing that I am? What nonsense you talk? I talk less than nonsense I speak the truth as people can’t stomach it they turn against me. It is usual to come to blows with all that I speak, they think they know me then when I speak the truth they cease wanting to know me. I am a traveller with no place to go saying hellos and goodnights without a will to myself to drift is all that I can do for there is nowhere to go. No one has come and said this is the woman I want take care not to offend her for then I will be offended. No one has said that word that important word. No one has stood up to me and won the round and every round I went I had to battle it myself. I’m I being too womanly when I say that is what I want to happen? That is my dream?
The jury has not reached a verdict whether to live or to send me to rot with this woman my mum who happens by sexual activity to have brought me into the world and is now God.
“You blaspheme, you shameless hussy to say that about your mum!”
“No the stork brought me into the world in a pillow!”
“My God you disgusting pervert.”
“Not at all that is what she believes that it was not sex it was an ordeal placed there to try her and she lived up to it. In fact I remember that she seemed to like nothing better.”
“You are too free with your memories.”
“I don’t care it is the truth.”
“What is the reason behind all this truth? Who wants to hear the truth anyway? There is nothing like lies to oil the wheels and make the world an interesting prison.”
“I want to be free.”
“What no more lies?”
“No more of that let there be truth and light and reason and less shame.”
“Where in the world did parents go wrong?”
“I can’t say there is always a black sheep.”
Ah God to know the truth and it hurts the truth hurts like a diseased mind it gnaws at me playing with my mind making my imagination my prison.
Why do I feel such a rage of imprisonment? It is as if the brakes are gone as if I am propelled into a world of deceit and lies as if my mind is made into a cloud. Why do the images in my mind not live up to my feelings? It is forever dark in here there is no light as if my mind is in the clouds. Who am I to speak there is no one to tell my tale it is a sealed book without anyone willing to break the seal. I am forever sealed from myself as if the pages are stuck together in old fashioned paper. I am not free. I am not afraid anymore because I am not bound in the past like I had been. But there is no future, there is only the present, as if that matters the most. The past does not matter the future does not exist it is the present that is the most pressing on me.