On the days she comes she brings something with her. Flowers or a packet of biscuits or a box of chocolates. Something like that. Actually not flowers, because flowers aren’t a very good present for a man, are they? And I am a man. It’s polite to do that, to bring something. Mum taught her that. Never taught me that but I suppose she was too busy to teach me stuff like that. Too busy doing other things. Like teaching her daughter to play the piano and to speak languages and write poetry, I think it was, and manners too. Being polite and that sort of thing. I was always in my cot or my room or in another room. Not with mum. Not with my sister who had the golden hair and the straight, white teeth and the manners, who talked to all the adults in the other rooms. Rooms where people laughed on the other side of closed doors. There would be the sound of the piano, she was playing, and it was played without mistakes and sounded the same as when mum put on a CD for them to listen to, and the adults in there would clap and then the little girl’s voice, my sister’s voice would say something, and then there was laughter. She was so talented and funny and the adults loved her. Smart, talented, popular and so grown up. A little lady.

A blue teddy on top of the cupboard.

It’s good when she brings biscuits. I like Kingston biscuits. They’re nice. I once ate a whole packet when I was a little kid, and mum got angry. Mum didn’t hit me though. Mum never hit me. Just ignored me and left me in my room.

Once I put almost my whole left foot into my mouth.

When she brings something, she tells me she’s missed me and tells me how mum’s going. Mum’s old now. I haven’t seen mum for years. I have to stay here and if nobody comes to visit me I just watch TV and sit in my trackies on the chair with the tray attached to it.

She cried last time she came. She brought photos. A photo album from when we were kids. There was a picture of me as a little baby and mum was holding me and she was at the piano playing and all three of us were in the room together. A family. Mum looked happy and my sister looked happy too. I didn’t look happy in the photo. No smile. I wasn’t happy. Mum tried, but she couldn’t get me to smile. Didn’t know how.

The stripey socks are itchy and sometimes I take them off when it’s hot.

And there was a photo from a concert with her in it, at the piano. Playing. She cried when she looked at it and she closed the book with the photos in it.

I ate some more biscuits. They were Kingstons. Kingstons are nice. I like Kingstons.

Published in: on March 6, 2014 at 7:18 pm  Leave a Comment  

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