Latch {Short Story}

Chapter Five

~ September 25th, 1996 ~

CRASH!

"Arrietty! Arrietty!" Cries my mother from the ground floor. 

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. It's not every morning you wake up to a fall... Oh wait; yes it is. Well in this house anyway.

After a fast pace gallop down the stairs, I find my Mother in a heap on the kitchen floor. I kneel down to help her up; only to find her drowning in wine and shards of glass. I let out a large sigh as I gaze into her long gone eyes.

I cradle her arm over my shoulder as a form of support while I run her free hand under cold water; then  switch sides to repeat on her other hand. Thankfully, there are no shards of glass in her skin so it's safe to bandage her up. I guess the knowledge I gained from a survival guide book I got for my 10th birthday is finally serving a purpose. I drench my mothers hands in anticeptic to prevent infection, then plaster them up til her hands are stiff.

Once my Mother is settled on the sofa and sobering up while drinking water through a straw; I query her on what happened.

"I just dropped the bottle, baby." She speaks slowly, still with a smile on her lips. "Don't you worry about me."

If only it were that easy.

"Why were you drinking at this time?" I ask as I pick at my thumbs. I know she's not been mentally well, but I didn't know she's been drinking in the morning.

She doesn't reply. I question her again and still lack a response.

"It's been hard on me too, Mum."

She knows what I'm refering to. Or more like who I'm refering to. We engage in a five second long gaze, then her eyes are drawn back to the floor.

"We're seeing him today." She muffles.

My ears prick up in disbelief. "What?!"

She slurps up the the remains of her drink then continues.

"He called this morning." Her voice has turned from a muffle to almost nothing. "He's in Brighton." A further choke blurts out of her mouth. "He'll be here by lunchtime."

I sit in a silent black hole as I soak up this new information. I'm confused and curious, but I won't question her further.

"Give me a moment." I fake a smile at my Mother before scrambling to the hallway, putting on any shoes, grabbing Bertie's skateboard and rushing out the door. 

I must look so great wearing my cat pyjamas, plimsolls and having a morning face like The Blob. All while my hair is swallowing my face as the wind blows it in all the wrong directions. Thankfully, it's 7am. And no one in their right minds would be awake at this time. Including Bertie.

Thud, Thud, Thud.

I hear movement coming from inside the Chaplin house as I stand outside their back door. I'd previously thrown rocks at Bertie's window like a true romantic.

The door silently creaks open and I'm approached by my unimpressed, shirtless boyfriend. He instantly recognises my pained eyes and pulls me into his chest. In that moment, all my troubles fade away.

He feels like home.

Once putting on a shirt and grabbing a large blanket, he joins me on the garden bench as we indulge in a shared cigarette.

"What happened?" He inquires as he looks down at the wreck that I am.

My head is resting on his lap as I'm sprawled out on the damp bench. Most people would complain about the rain and go inside. Most people. Bertie and I are not like most people. We enjoy the rain, we embrace it.