Dead Hand

I've learnt to be alone

                 

                 

Nobody comes to my house; it's too far out of town. I don't really want anyone to come here anyway. They would ask questions that I couldn't answer and tell people things they shouldn't. Some company would be nice though. I had a cat, I think dad took her when he left though... and mum's not much company. When she is here the door is locked and the smoke seeping under the door tells me not to knock.

I've learnt to live without people for most of my life. Even when my dad was around he wasn't ever really there. Not for me, anyway. The only difference is now that he's gone, instead of mum being caught up fighting with him all the time she's caught up getting drunk.

I don't know much about the rest of my family. I had one grandma around when I was little and she would take me to the park and push me on the swings. I remember one day we took the train to the beach. I was only about three or four, it was the first time I had ever seen seagulls and I freaked out. There's a photo of me on that day, running through about forty seagulls, it's in a frame sitting on my bedside table. I was happy.  She died last year in May. Dad didn't come to the funeral, and mum cried a lot that night.

Two months later dad was gone. Mum was happier, for a while.

But then things really started to go downhill.

Now every morning when I get up at six, I hope that there's enough hot water left to have a shower. If mum did come home last night she'll have already left, I don't know where to and I would rather not find out. So I make my lunch and leave.

The train takes half an hour. That's my study time. School days go past the quickest, there are things to do and people to see. I usually avoid most of them and the people I do talk to spew fake conversation. When I get home at night I'll clean and cook and if mum's there, try to talk and sleep. Ready to start it all again.

Weekends are harder; mum is usually at home so I try to stay out of the house for most of it. Lately I've been going to a building about an hour and a half walk from home. It's in the middle of no-where and the only thing leading to it is this overgrown dirt road off the highway.

My only fond memory of dad is out here, we drove out once when I was five, he said it was an old hospital that wasn't needed anymore, that the ones in the city where better so they shut this one down. I was really freaked out by the whole place so he held my hand as we walked through. They're where broken bottles on the floor and some of the walls had been knocked down. You could see the graffiti on the windows and the whole place smelt like mold. We went into one of the smaller rooms in the back. There was an old grey matrass in the corner. I ran over to it but dad picked me up and said that it might not be safe and that I should just stay with him. He smelt better than the room.

On the way home we stopped at MacDonald's, I got a happy meal and the toy was a Fiona figurine from the Shrek movie that had just come out. I don't remember finishing the food, but I do remember waking up the next day in my bed. I had been tucked in and Fiona was on my bedside table.

I hadn't been to the hospital since that day until a couple of months ago. Mum had brought a guy home and they where playing poker on the kitchen bench. I had gotten really pissed because poker was the only thing that my mother and I shared and this dip-shit fling of hers was now taking my place. She'd had a few so she started yelling, I yelled back and then she slapped me. I wasn't hurt... physically.

All I could think about was the day she had taught me how to play; her, dad and a couple of his mates where in the living room having a game when I got home from school. When I walked in the room one of the guys, Ben I think his name was, had pulled me by the arm onto the couch next to him. He had slurred, "Lets teach the kid how to play," to the group.

After a couple of rounds dad and his mates left but mum and I kept playing. We played nearly all night and I had the best time with her that I had had in ages.

In the years since that day poker was always mum and I's escape. When dad would come home too drunk and mum would take me into her room, we would play a game before I went to sleep. We would bet with tea bags or pieces of her jewelry, but it wasn't about that, it was just about spending time with her.

I didn't say anything after she slapped me. I went out the door and just kept walking. By the time I got to the hospital it was dark, seven-thirty or eight o'clock I would guess. It was getting cold so I went inside and found somewhere to lie down. I couldn't tell where I was until morning. When I woke up I went for a walk outside and found a sign next to the door. It read St. Mary's: maternity wing. It was crazy how a fight with mum had pushed me back to the one good place I had with dad.

I went back inside as lay down on the matrass I had slept on. I stayed there for a while, till I got too hungry, till I got to bored.

When I got home mum was still passed out on the couch. I cleaned the kitchen and made myself lunch. I was half way through my salad sandwich when she came in and asked why I wasn't at school, I reminded her is was Saturday and she just walked out.

Just like that mum and I where back to normal. And ever since then I have spent most of my weekends out here, sometimes I stay the night, sometimes I go home and eat dinner and sleep there.

People aren't a big part of my life, but then again if you had my life would people be a big part of yours.