Before We Say Goodbye

Chapter Eleven: What it Means to Suffer

Chapter Eleven - Sophie

My face hurts from smiling so much. I’ve been grinning all through the photo albums – oh yes.

Paul and Jodie have been showing me their family albums, pointing out all the embarrassing pictures of baby Damon.

He sits on an armchair, a scowl dominating his face. “Do we have to do this?” he snaps.

“Yes,” I say, gasping for breath, my side aching from laughter.

Paul flashes him a thumbs up. “You’re doing great, bruv,” he winks.

“You just wait,” Damon threatens. “Just wait. Next time Shirley’s over…” he lets the sentence hang in the air threateningly.

Paul visibly pales.

I snort at the sight of all the colour leaving his face. He pushes the albums away from us.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” he says, standing up and taking them to a bookshelf.

Damon watches on, amused.

“Hey!” I say. “I was still looking!”

Jodie laughs. “I’m pretty sure we’ve already shown Shirley the family albums, Paul,” she says.

His eyes narrow. “You didn’t,” he hisses.

Jodie shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

He races from the room, and moments later I hear thudding on the stairs.

Jodie stands up, dusting herself off. “Well, I’m going to make myself some brunch. Do you guys want any?”

“No, thanks,” I reply politely.

Damon grunts.

I frown at him. He imitates my expression. When Jodie is out of earshot, I let out on him.

“Why are you rude to your mam?” I demand.

He shrugs. “No I’m not.”

“You are! Don’t you think she deserves a ‘please’ and a ‘thank you’? She does loads for you, you could be grateful!”

He stands up forcefully. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps. “And, yeah, maybe I’m being a bit moody, but you know what? I don’t need to hear it from you! You’re life is so perfect, isn’t it? You don’t know squat about what it’s like to be suffering! You’re just fine…me? I’ve got burns to show!” He points at his face angrily.

I feel my breathing stop. I don’t…know what it’s like to suffer? That’s rich! I laugh maniacally.

“What do you think you’re talking about?” I say. “I know what suffering is! More than you could ever know!”

“What, daddy didn’t buy you the laptop you asked for?” he taunts. “That’s not suffering, Sophie. You’ve never seen someone drag their child away from you because you look weird, have you?”

“My heart breaks for you, it really does, but at least you’re going to live past you teenage years!” I yell, tears pouring down my cheeks.

I slap my hand to my mouth when I realise what I just said. Damon’s eyes widen.

“What?” he says quietly.

“Nothing,” I say fiercely. “It was just a figure of speech.”

I turn on my heel and rush out of the room, down the hall, out of the house. I can’t be standing within these four walls. I need air.

I race down the street, turning a corner, not bothering to look where I’m going. If God wants me lost, I’ll get lost. If He wants me home, I’ll find my way.

I run and run and run until I can’t breathe. All I can do is concentrate on drawing in oxygen. It takes up my whole mind, and there’s no room for thoughts on death.

*

I trudge down the dark street, smoothing out my dress and tucking my hair behind my ears.

The lights are all on in my house, all the windows lit up.

I walk up the front path and anxiously knock on the door, palms sweaty. Dad is going to be so mad…

“Sophie Katrina Dobson!”

The door is flung open and four sets of arms drag me into the nice warm house, all hugging me.

Suddenly I’m pushed away from the mass of bodies.

“Sophie, you are in so much trouble, young lady,” Dad says, quietly, but deadly.

I stare at the floor. “Sorry, Daddy,” I mumble, exhausted.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Trish cuts in. “First let me give her her medication! She didn’t have it yesterday.”

She throws me a pointed look.

“Right. Of course. Carla, go upstairs and play Wii with Jake or something,” Dad orders my younger siblings.

Trish leads me to the kitchen. “Here,” she says, handing me the medicine.

I take the pills, and pour myself some water.

“Sorry, Trish,” I say, feeling her gaze on my back.

Trish sighs. “Sophie, I want to tell Carla and Jake,” she says, surprising me.

“Weren’t we just talking about – ”

“They need to know,” she says firmly.

“You said you’d let me tell them in my own time, Trish!” I protest.

“Yes, I know, but you’re taking too long!”

“It’ll hurt them!”

Trish sighs again. “I know it will, but what if you don’t tell them? One day, you’ll up and die, and they won’t know what happened. Do you want that?”

I bite my lip. “No, of course not,” I admit. “But I just…”

“You don’t need to say it,” Trish tells me gently. “I understand.”

“No you don’t,” I say quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t understand. It’s not for lack of trying…thank you for that. But unless you actually are dying, there’s no way you could understand,” I explain.

Trish cocks her head at me. “I’m sorry,” she says.

I shrug at her. “That’s okay.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to get you out of your dad’s lecture, Sophie.”

I smile wryly. “Too much to hope for, huh?”

Trish ruffles my hair. “Cheeky.”

After I take the medication, we go back to the living room, where Dad sits on his armchair, watching the news.

He stands up as soon as he notices me. “Sophie,” he growls.

“Daddy?” I respond, trying for a smile.

“Don’t you daddy me. You are in so much trouble!”

*

I slip into Carla’s room quietly, sitting down on her duvet.

“Sophie?”

I jump. I thought she was asleep!

“Are you awake, Carly?” I ask her softly.

“Yes. Can I have a cug?”

I laugh. “It’s hug, Carly, not cug. I’ve told you loads of times.”

I can’t see her face in the dark, but she’s probably pouting. “No, it’s cug!”

“Okay then.”

I lean in and hug her quickly, drawing back before I get lost in how perfect life is. I want to stay here forever.

I don’t want to die.