its a jittery day.
Things feel somehow perilous, Like we’re teetering on the edge of a cliff. Son has visited today, Talked a lot but said nothing. It’s a Sunday. A day with a stillness all of its own. We stand at the limen between winter and spring. Hovering but hopeful. There is a fuzz of pale green in the woods, The garden is trembling on the edge. Shoots coming through, Tiny buds appearing. Some tentative squeaks from a few brave birds. The sky is high and blue. The day is bitingly cold. How many times have I written these words in these blogs? No matter what happens in our little lives The earth turns in space. In all its beauty and terror We sit and tremble. On this shivery day We are invited to tea by Son and Wife No 2. We arrive. There is an atmosphere. Wife No 2 takes my Husband to one side, They sit at the table muttering. Grandson No 1 and his Father are in the kitchen, They are arguing about the washing up. Son is preparing food in an erratic fashion. Grandson No 2 takes me upstairs, He wants to show me his newly decorated room. I return downstairs, There is shouting in the kitchen. Son is raging at his son. I storm in and break up the argument. I order Son out. He storms upstairs, ranting. Grandson comes to sit at the table. Husband takes me to one side, Apparently Wife No 2 has found used needles on top of the kitchen cupboards. There had been a confrontation that day. They had had a bad few weeks. The table is partly laid for the fake family tea. A splendid salad wilts in a bowl. There is an artisan loaf and butter on a wooden board. There is a bottle of red wine. There are 4 glasses. Grandson No 1 looks uncomfortable, Grandson No 2 remains in his room. The melodrama plays on. Son reappears sweaty and aggressive. He starts to bring dishes in from the kitchen. We all, with the exception of No 2 Sit round the table in silence. Grandson tentatively says something to his father, Son erupts. Husband jumps to his feet. “This can’t go on, We’re going home.” He looks at Grandson No 1 “Are you coming?” “Yes.” “Go and get your brother.” We walk out. Me, Husband, Grandsons 1 and 2. They will never return to their Father’s so called care again...
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Normal life goes on
Alongside paying off drug dealers, Lying to grandchildren, Lying to Wife No 2, Being economical with the truth to Daughter. A visit to the dentist looms. Why in this age of massive advances In medicine and technology Is going to the dentist still akin to A state of medieval torture? I have put it off. I have put it off. The ache goes on, My tongue seeks out the jagged gap in my tooth. All manner of foodstuffs settle in it. I spend hours poking about with various implements Trying to dislodge disgusting pieces of food. Ugh. The die is cast. The appointment is made. I press the bell and enter. I step back in time. A rockweiler receptionist scowls at me. Fading water colours adorn the walls, Pot plants hover menacingly. The table groans under the weight of ancient manuscripts, Woman’s Own and Lancashire Life. I cower in the heat of the waiting room. The 70’s gas fire hisses. Then. The internal door swishes open A duplicate rockweiler appears, I am summoned. Soon I am supine on that leather chair. There is a bunch of bright yellow daffodils In a glass pot glinting in the splashes of sun from the outside world. I stare at them. Then there are bright blue rubber gloved hands, Brilliant lights dazzle me. Metal objects wrenching my mouth into impossible chasms. My fists are clenched and sweaty. Dentist questions me. I reply with animal noises. I am dribbling. Another set of blue hands shoves an orange hose into my mouth. It slurps at my tongue. It’s more than weird. Then he says “This’ll sting a bit.” Dentistspeak for “I’m going to cause you unspeakable agony.” He heaves the drill above my face I can smell burning. It digs at my shrieking tooth. He is tunnelling and scraping. I am gagging. Then it’s done. I taste metal. I am rinsing grit from my mouth. I am spitting into a shiny funnel. It rattles as it is sucked away. The blue gloves are snapped off. He smiles at me, My face is immobile. I slobber my goodbyes. My tongue seeks out the once broken fractal. It is smooth and polished. I am mushy with relief. I am released into a bright cold world. I blink. I feel exposed. My mum tied a scarf round my face in the distant past. In that simpler long time ago With its whispering memories. A past when I’d never heard of heroin. And the dentist was the worst thing I would ever endure... It starts well.
He finds a new job. He does as he’s told at home. He washes up. The kids wash up. He puts his clothes away. The kids keep their bedrooms tidy. They all know how to keep the peace. She makes the rules. Not such a bad system, really. The job stresses him. We all know about him and stress. He manufactures aggro. There are arguments at work. He sees the doctor. The doctor pathologises his ups and downs. Finally. He quits. Fortunately she has a steady job. We know she won’t let him sit around and do nothing. His days have to be accounted for. He has job applications to make. Things to do round the house. But he’s home all day. Ducking and diving. She watches. But she does not yet know the extent of his cunning. We watch. But, he is exquisitely crafty. His self deception knows no bounds. To be fair. He does want to work. He always has. Just his complicated psyche and the drugs Got in the way. The kids tick along. They grumble and fight and moan. Wife No 2 continues to work. He continues to shapeshift. Money disappears. He deceives everyone. He charms her still with his lies. He is still driving the car. We interfere. Finally convince her to remove the keys. The kids are at risk. It’s too dangerous. After many failed attempts She believes us It’s not safe. She resents our interference sometimes. But we have known him longer than her. She is very loyal. I respect her for that. But our duty is to our grandchildren. They are the priorities. He gets another job. He is delighted. More importantly, she is delighted. He goes off on his first day. On the train. We give him a lift to the station. Dark trousers, Grey shirt, Black sweater. Hair newly cut, Face shiny. Keen but jittery. He is pleased with himself. Wife No2 is pleased with him. There is a hint of spring in the air. There are shoots on the roses. There are green spikes pointing through the earth. The early days go well. He gets used to things quickly. The job is no problem. He is soon the star employee As he works his evil charm on them all. He runs a marathon for the works charity. Their adoration knows no bounds. They are well and truly deceived. He is the hero again. His umpteenth reinvention is complete. Of course, it won’t last... And so it starts again.
The world turns. The days pass. He meets No2 at his running club. She is statuesque and attractive. He is besotted. His children are relegated to second place again. Their Saturday nights watching a film, eating pizza and popcorn. Cancelled. Or, sometimes they have an additional person. This person commands all their father’s attention. She is quite good with the kids. She is neither condescending or patronising. She doesn’t try too hard to make them like her. But she isn’t their Mother. Soon. Too soon. She moves in and is part of the household. There is a daughter also As part of the package. They all rub along. The kids spend some time with us. Son tries to please everybody. The family business winds down. Husband steps away. The remaining stock is sold. Where did that money go? Just saying. Son cashes in his endowment policy. He has no job. Does he put the money in a high interest account? Does he make much needed improvements to his dilapidated house? Does he repay his masssive drug debts? Does he clear his credit cards and high interest loans? To be fair. He does clear loans and parts of credit cards. Because he has no choice. The dealers circle like rats. He keeps them at bay. So. What does he do with the remainder? I know, We’ll have a big fancy wedding/honeymoon. Then he’ll come back to real life. There’ll be no money left. He will have no job. He won’t be able to cope. And we all know what that means... We change from one state to another.
From Elsinore to St Ann’s Square. Down the stone steps, Clutching our programmes. Stunned. The afternoon with daughter In that darkened theatre. That other world. The light is fading now, Catching on the curves and carvings of old buildings, Glancing off the new glass and steel. The shops are lighting up in the square. The windows of the old church glow Red, green, blue. The trees glow like white ghosts Branches wave like hair. It’s the space between dusk and dark. I feel elated and strange. We’re walking. There’s music coming from somewhere. It’s Leonard Cohen. It’s in the air. We’re walking. The air crackles. Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. Husband comes to meet us. He has been to watch cycling, A sport he loves. We have all managed to escape our demons For the day. He looks relaxed and reassuring. I am delighted he is there. He completes us. We go to Tampopo. Superb Pan-Asian restaurant. Thai, Vietnamese, Malaysian and Japanese food. Mouthwatering, exquisite food, We order. He and daughter banter and reminisce. I look at them both. I am pleased. The food is served. The atmosphere is Manchester. We talk. We talk about Breaking Bad and Star Wars. We talk about the weather and Daughter’s Mini. We talk about Facebook and Twitter. We talk about teachers’s pay and Husbands depleted pension pot. We talk about refugees and royalty. We talk about cycling and Hamlet. We talk about buyer’s remorse and self indulgence. We talk about technology and robots We talk about supermarkets and neighbours. We don’t talk about drugs and drug addicts. Then. The evening is done. The bill is paid. We emerge from light to dark, From warm to cold. We return to our lives. Husband and I must let Daughter go, This is right. I am nostalgic for this divine day already. A treasure for the memory banks. Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. |
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