Killing Carter

Chapter Three - Touchy Subjects

The music bounded in my ears, a fast paced rhythm that my body followed along with automatically as I ran across the park.  The world was so quiet at this time in the morning since even the sun was still asleep, the moon becoming the beacon of light.  It was my favourite time of the day.  There was no one to put on a show for, no one to see your tired eyes, pale skin and tear stained face.  You could be whoever you wanted as in this inbetween time nothing felt real.  The day had not yet begun but the night was over.  I wasn’t Kimmy Scott the girl who had it all.  I wasn’t Kimberly the girl who lost it all.  And I wasn’t Rose the girl who had lost it completely.  I was that inbetween moment, the flip of the coin where the outcome was not yet decided.  Head or tails, yes or no, truth or lies, black or white.  I was the pounding of feet against concrete, the warm breath in the cold air, the tang of sweat on smooth skin.

It was my favourite time of the day but it never lasted long.  All too soon the sun began to rise chasing the shadows away and revealing everything for what it was.  I could see the peeling paint on the park bench and the litter on the dull green grass.  I could hear the sound of car engines starting up and the bark of a dog over the music in my ears.  I could smell the dampness of the dew in the air and I felt the familiar emptiness inside myself as I slowed to a jog and headed back to the house.

“Make me a cup too Hun.”  My mum said as she walked into the kitchen and stuck two slices of brown bread into the toaster.  My mum was a classic beauty with porcelain skin, jade green eyes, and luscious auburn hair that fell in a natural wave down her back.  Everyone always said we looked alike but she was elegant.  She was the kind of woman that everyone loved not just for her beauty but for her heart as she would do anything for anyone.  Before that night the house was always buzzing with people seeking help, comfort or just simply someone to talk to and my mum was that someone.  Many nights I would come home from work or dancing to find an overweight woman crying on our couch cradling a half drunk cup of tea in her hands as my mum offers words of comfort.  She knew exactly what to say to make everything better.  I unfortunately didn’t develop this trait.  I hated listening to other people’s problems, I hated overweight women and I couldn’t say the right thing if my life depended on it.  However being able to say the exact wrong thing – that was my speciality.

“Yeah sure.”  I replied tiredly taking her fat blue cup out the cupboard and filling it with coffee and two sugars before passing it to her.  I took a seat at the kitchen table slouching over my bowl of cereal.  It had long ago lost its crunch but I was starving so continued to shove spoonful after spoonful into my mouth.

“So doing anything exciting today?”  My mum asked leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping her coffee a small smile at the corner of her lips just for me.  My mum and I used to be as close as best friends.  We would tell each other everything.  However when I hit puberty our relationship changed.  I no longer wanted to tell her about the goings on in my life and she no longer knew how to handle me.  Discussions turned into arguments and simple actions turned into fights so we began to keep out of each other’s way.  If I needed money or permission to go somewhere I would ask Dad and if I needed advice about boys or someone to tell my secrets to I would talk to Cassie.  So I had my replacements for Mum.  I don’t know who she found as a replacement for me though.

“Nope.”  I replied sipping my coffee loving the smell and the bitter taste, slowly feeling more awake.

“Well what do you want for tea tonight?  I can make some spag bol or that chicken dish you like.”  She said now rubbing her thumb down the side of her mug. 

“I don’t mind.”  I stated simply downing the rest of my coffee and chucking everything in the sink.

“Dishwasher.”  She said sternly.  I didn’t need to look at her to know her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed but I did anyway, mirroring her expression.