Amy Barker (ed) Through the Clock's Workings (pdf)

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she stepped into Jody s family s home. She hoped her office heels and
skirt gave a sense of efficacy clean lines in a chaos world where
children protect their parents from the destructive things in life. Dara
knew, or had at least guessed, having seen the piles of dishes in the sink
and put the pieces together, even before Jody explained. Her mother,
newly separated from her second marriage, had taken to drinking. The
past few months had culminated in the day Jody had come to visit her
mother to find her passed out drunk on the kitchen floor, bleeding from
the head.
She could have died. And, when I got her up and took her to the
hospital she didn t even care. She just came home and went right back
to drinking. She paused, looking up at Dara with eyes filled with fear,
then continued. If she keeps this up she ll kill herself. Jody stared down
at the centre of the table blankly as she spoke. Dara sucked her breath
in sharply at the thought of it, not sure what to say.
Jody explained that she had moved back to her family home since that
incident, to keep an eye on her mother, but it hadn t made any
difference. If anything it made things worse. This morning I found
mum passed out again, the final straw, so I took her to an emergency
rehab clinic some phone help line told me about. Jody shivered, and
then looked around her, noticing her surroundings for the first time
since she had started speaking. She stood up and filled the kettle to boil
water, fussing around in the kitchen to find tea bags. There was one left,
an ex-motel English breakfast sachet in the nearly bare cupboards.
But there s no milk or sugar. Jody held the fridge open to prove it; the
shelves held only a few ageing vegetables and condiments. Jodie
laughed uncomfortably, apologising with a shrug. No one s been
shopping for a while. I eat out a lot.
Black is fine. Hey, I remember that motel tea-bag brand from when I
stayed at your apartment that time.
Yeah? Want to know why? My step-dad, the fuckhead, he stays at
hotels and brings the toothbrushes and shit home. He told us it was for
work. Turns out he was sleeping with his secretary. Bitch.
Shit, that s awful Jody. I m sorry to hear that.
69
Don t be sorry. I m sorry. That I m a lying piece of shit like everything
else in my life. That I stole your guitar to get your attention and never
even talked to you after that. I can t believe you would come over now,
after all that. No one else would.
Dara stood up, her chair scraping loudly in the quiet kitchen, and went
over to where Jody stood to hug her tightly. Apology accepted.
It doesn t matter anymore. I ve moved on with my life, things are
working out with me. Dara told her, breathing Jody in. Jody was warm
and smelt sweet, the same slender body she remembered from the one
intimate time they had shared, all stolen kisses and warm hands on soft
skin. Jody trembled in her arms and almost immediately she began to
cry, huge gulping sobs that seemed to come from deep inside her. She
crumpled at the knees and, when Dara couldn t hold her full weight,
they sank together to the kitchen floor where they sat, holding each
other as Jody pressed her face against Dara s neck, her warm tears
running in a shiver down her chest. Along with the deep sympathy of
friendship, Dara felt flooding back the teenage attraction she had for
Jody. She felt the faintest feeling of hope perhaps something new
could come out of all of this. She hoped that she could make Jody feel
the same, to take the edge off her sadness. She stroked Jody s hair until
her sobs eventually subsided. Finally, exhausted, Jody whispered to
Dara that she needed to sleep. It was now completely dark and they had
to feel their way out of the kitchen, along the hallway to Jody s
bedroom. Neither bothered to turn on the light, it somehow felt easier
to keep things in the dark.
Can I cook you some dinner? You probably haven t eaten all day. I can
just go down to the supermarket, or we could order some Indian
takeout, Dara offered, wanting to make herself useful, to be a comfort.
Jody shook her head.
No, please don t go anywhere. I m not hungry. I just want to sleep. I
haven t slept in months. Every night I lie awake to listen out for what
my mother might do to herself. Now I know she s safe I can sleep.
Anyway, I have to leave for work early in the morning.
Jody had learnt the habit of drink before bed, keeping a half-empty
bottle of whiskey by her bed. She shrugged when Dara asked her about
it, said she needed it to sleep. She mumbled in protest when Dara took
the bottle away but gave in on the promise that Dara would stay with
her until she fell asleep.
70
Perfunctorily, like a nurse, Dara helped Jody wearily take off her
cardigan and jeans. My role is a comforter, she told herself, as Jody lay
in only her underwear, silhouetted by the street lamps that striped in
bars of light across her face. She looked so beautiful Dara s throat
caught. Jody reached up to kiss Dara hard, urgently unbuttoning Dara s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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