I did not know that this moment would bring so much pain for the whole family. That I am now in the sixties and was back than in my twenties when this began when did this begin? Why it was me as a nine year old.
Why should a grown woman a wife a mother be telling sharing these stories with a kid she barely knows? I often asked myself this later on. But it was a huge thing being sat as she sewed being told her loves and life and all the stormy things which a woman has.
Zeks the first was a woman who had lost it. Her lack of fortitude was as plain as plain. She had no fortune spent her time expanding on her bad luck and did not get along with anyone except in hospitals because in hospital they looked after her.
But at home she said it was her all the time doing this and that. Running like a headless chicken being in there here and everywhere.
"Malicious lies." said dad, "she is never been here and there the dust is still where I left it."
Dad was a amazingly a vain man he liked his shirts ironed or starched did the best deals on that. He wept if it got soaked or coloured with a pink stain. Mother did it on purpose I saw her do it. But she spat at me said shut it.
Mother stamps her feet and leaves me to deal with the kids and everything she has left the house and we wonder when she will return.
Mother and I behaved in reversed sometimes she did not feel old she said so she was young and should be treated like a young woman.
I did not know what that meant please she just glared at me. Mother saying she a young woman meant I was younger than her which made me very youthful. I asked her she replied no you are old.
But that is going further back in time back into the sixties and that's not going to work we must work linear because that is what stories are and were and this is after all a story.
It is only in films when we have the flashback because we know it is a flash back because something in the screen is different like a light and someone else is on a youthful person instead of the one before. But reading one cannot see we must sense it but we cannot see the difficulties as we have only the image of someone else who is speaking.
I am a firm believer in facts.
Who I'm I? I live within the walls of this house like a ghost because not allowed to get out. Like a genii in a bottle and somehow lost in the chaos of life. Because too immature damaged to be seen. Because not as sexy not active do not perform is shy.
One woman's poisonous vibes have got me such a ordeal it is not right or nice. When she has everything when the rest of us have nothing when her ridiculous stance had made me the prisoner. When she was the one who said I was happiest at home. Well here I am still at home after all these years. Honey I am coming to get you when I die you will be haunted like no other. So I am coming for you.
Almost near death he does not fear anything at all. No need I will not touch him he has to be with you to feel and he will be. Whenever he goes for you then I will be there to stop it all. When this is what you both had it is over for me I am going back in time in order to haunt you both. This is not a ghost story this is a story about surviving the ordeals which you made for me and you sharing the stories as if yours. I will take it bit by bit whatever you took from me and then submerged with it you will be madder than now. Of course there are ways of robbing someone without them realising this?
This is a difficult night again I couldn't sleep the nurse must be awaken and heal me with his bad voice and mad behaviour. The nursing staff are getting weirder. It is something they can't help or heal they were patients before they became nurses. I do no longer weep but wait for the time when I too can become powerful and have the right to do harm without being affected by it all. It is a different me I ma no longer helpless I am like everybody in a house in a house with walls.
This female icon star is jealous of me wants things which I have? Well here they are honey they are coming they are nearly here for you all for you.
You know in the past I was nice in the past I was kind in the past there was things I believed in? You took them from me all of it. You took them because you could not stand me having something anything. That is when I began to hate you it is nothing personal you would smile and take. Well it is all about personality I expected such a lot from life got not much. It is all about personality and halving the halves so that you could be content. It is all about you is not it honey?
Well when this is over it is you who will be not here not anywhere but indoors in the walls counting sheep. It is nothing you might add I have the drink. Well that is just it you do drink? Caffeine influence power won't help it is a justified thought is it not?
But never mind it is such a good life that I continue with it. My being here will heal you both and it is both of you is it not? Being married means just that. It is behaviour sin and such like I am just the woman in the middle.
When he leaves for you this is what happens.
Dad was looking at me as if the darker person was never there. That I was the light in the room he said. If I moved he moved he seemed to be fascinated as if I am a rabbit. Mum I shout but she does not respond. How much money has he given her I thought at the time?
Mum sat crossed arms as if the lost wind had called her and her rage was sure to find out the mistakes she had made in having me back. She did not want me there inside that space spoilt her life pleasures.
The obscure little room filled with three beds and a table a television which sat in the centre and then the sleeping two sisters while the rest of me wanted private thoughts a private room. Dad sat there looking as if he had lost the plot as if he had lost the room as if he wanted something.
"I am making tea." I am also a believer in the power of tea making a difficult situation not so difficult.
I went out down the stairs into the cafe and then made tea. Brought the biscuits over too.
"Yes mother I have."
"Well don't say I don't teach you."
Then mother tried to take the empty tea cups down the stairs as if driven to do such a good job on herself. I had been half asleep with the tiredness then she just fell down the stairs as if the rage beating inside her tormented heart had gone into the cups.
"Help me now or I will never get up." She yelled my sisters and I rushed over to help her. "Broke a cup." She stammered.
"Mother you are always breaking them cups. It is as if the favourites go first."
"I got my leg and now lift me."
"Yes sure where is dad?"
"He can't do it." Said mother in a resigned state.
"I can't you are too heavy."
"I can." Said B. She couldn't neither.
"Why I'm I going to be in these stairs the whole night?"
"I can." said Z she was heavier and with our help we got her onto a chair and she sat down for some time crying softly.
"Now I won't be able to work for five six weeks. " She said unkindly.
The lights went out in the cafe there was a moment when we stood still. The whole folly of being poor and disabled was hitting us hard.