by James Eddy
I find what remains of my virginity only to lose it again with a guy whose name I barely know and won’t remember.
Mum should know but 'he' tells me it never happened. Then 'he' says that I have to be sweet and not tell anyway. I never will because I never can.
Through the dark 'he' moves, sweating on top of me; 'his' weight, 'his' whisky breath on my face and a pain I barely understand. All too real.
'He' couldn't have cared less about my helplessness when I felt 'his' eyes on me for the first time in my life.
There are sunny day smiles, skipping out of school;
mum meets me and together we go and buy my first bra,
filling it out with toilet paper.
Dressed in white, as a bride I will never be.
The light brightens and I try on her make-up, making a mess.
She laughs, I laugh;
somehow that’s the sound I remember most;
the sound of life, simple as a heartbeat,
the sound of a heartbeat still only as simple as life.
Darkness recedes further from view and I grow younger,
learning more in each moment.
Then, I hear the light and see my name,
Mum's voice says, “Diane.”
Cradled in her arms in my first moments;
pure love flows and I see her face.
And without even the blinking of an eye, I am gone.
Hello, Emptiness
Joseph Holly sat on the living room floor. His face was damp with fresh tears. His voice was empty:
“I was minding my business, just putting something in my bag, when the boss stopped me.”
The room was dimly lit. The main light was off and it was late. I could still see his slumped shoulders and raw crimson eyes peering up at me. He was a baby-faced boy with a little puppy fat still on his bones. He looked younger than his years and I could tell that he always would.
I’d already decided to let him talk. I always hated the sound of weeping more than the sight of tears and I thought if I kept him talking I wouldn’t have to hear him cry. I should have known better really. I should have known that each word was just a step closer to what I wanted to avoid:
“I was nearly out the door when he grabbed me to look through my bag... I didn’t see the point in pretending? He already knew what I'd nicked.”
He’d already told me he was “A thieving little toerag”, and it looked like he was trying to prove it. He rambled on but there didn’t seem to be much point to anything he said. He talked about his boss, “Banging on about mitigating circumstances or something.” But before I had time to take that in, he told me about his theory that singing Dick Van Dyke songs could defuse almost any awkward situation.
He was definitely drunk. I wasn't close enough to smell the whisky on his breath but the way he spoke made it clear that he'd taken refuge in a bottle that night. Joe's eyes glanced down to the gold heart-shaped locket and chain in his right hand.
“That is a lovely thing,” I told him.
His fingers closed, obscuring it from me.
“It was my... Friend's.”
There was a crack in his voice. I looked away. I didn't want to understand.
I’d seen that locket many times, although never as closely as I did that night.
“Poor young Miss Green,” I said.
Joe nodded and opened his hand to look at the textured surface that shone surprisingly brightly through the dark. Instantly, I realised what I was feeling. It was something I would never have expected when I first found he’d broken into my house. He seemed to read my mind.
“Don't feel sorry for me!” he said.
There was anger in his voice but also fear and the fever in his eyes only made me feel more sympathy for him. I could see that his volatility was coming from the situation rather than his true nature.
I didn’t say this to him, of course. It didn't seem right. So, I said nothing. Instead, I simply listened to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall; a noise that filled the air in the room and counted down the seconds until I felt the need to speak again:
“So, I assume your boss decided against calling the police?”
“Yeah,” Joe almost sighed.
“And have you been home since then?”
It was horribly obvious that I was substituting questions for real conversation.
“Yes I've been home!” he snapped, “And before you ask I told my mum I got sacked... I didn't tell her why but I did tell her.”
Joe took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was calmer:
“I didn't stick round long after that... Mum was fussing. Making sure I was okay. It was all a bit much, you know. But it was pretty late and there was nowhere to go, so I ended up at Diane's house. I was just sorta doing what I always did... And her bedroom window was open... So I figured I could squeeze myself inside like before... Soon wished I hadn't though. Cos the room smelt like her. Perfume and just her. Like she wasn't gone... But it was all a lie. She wasn't there anymore...”
His voice trailed off and the muted ticking returned. I ran my fingers through my hair; trying to cover the awful bare patch at the back. I saw him looking and stopped. My hand slipped down to my side.
“I never broke in to take anything,” he said to me, “I only wanted to be somewhere she'd been. It just wasn't enough... I needed something else.”
His words made sense to me but I could only smile and shrug. He went on talking; all about how he’d searched through the room in the moonlight until he found young Miss Green's cream coloured diary in a drawer.
He stopped and in his eyes I saw a look that I recognised in myself; something even more significant than grief; the fear of being left alone.
“I woke up on the floor beside her bed. I'd put the diary in my bag and was holding it to my chest. Noises were coming from somewhere in the house. I didn't run away. I just sat up with my back up against the mattress. Then I saw her locket shining in the sun. Dunno how I hadn't seen it the night before but I went over and picked it up. Just so I could hold it in my hands... I sat on the floor again and it wasn’t long before there were footsteps on the other side of the door. Then the door opened a bit and Diane’s cousin popped her head in. Must've sort of been a habit for her. She definitely looked pretty bloody surprised to see me there... So she backed out the room and she must've wondered if she was seeing things cos she looked back in right after... That's when she saw the bag and the locket in my hand… She went again and this time the door clicked shut behind her. There were a few muffled sounds and the door was opened wider the next time. I said sorry without looking. It felt like the right thing to do. But it was Diane’s mum who walked in the room... And there were like five seconds where I saw Diane again. In her mum's face. She was all pale and thin and had bags under her eyes like I saw under Diane's that night. Sort of hidden behind her hair... She was beautiful. Exactly the way I remember Diane...”
Joe's eyes softened a little as he spoke. He swallowed hard and looked away; towards the curtains that covered up the window he’d broken to let himself into my house.
“I didn't know her very well but I could tell she was a lovely girl,” I told him.
The boy nodded although I could see in his eyes that he remained lost in disordered thoughts.
“Have you ever met someone that made you just… I dunno...”
Instinctively, I was able to fill in the blanks of what he was trying to say.
“Someone with enough grace to make sense of all the chaos?”
“Fuck!” he almost shouted back at me.
The word took me by surprise and something must have changed in my face. It was probably just that I wasn’t used to that kind of language. He apologised and I felt guilty for it.
“You knew what I meant though,” he added.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Who was she?” he asked.
I actually surprised myself by answering:
�
��Her name was Rachel.”
I went further and still not far enough. I could have told him about her eyes, her skin, her mousy brown hair, or even that I had not seen her since she got married fifteen years ago. But then those were actually the least remarkable things about her.
“I'm not sure if you’ll understand, but I can't really put it better than to say that I loved her bones,” I told him.
At last, there was some genuine calm in Joe's eyes. He understood.
“You loved her,” was all he said, and I could only agree.
Joe sat silently but it was clear that the alcohol was still doing its work; sending his thoughts along streets and avenues it would have been better to avoid.
“In a way I think you're lucky,” he told me, “I only knew her well enough to know she couldn't love me enough... That's kind of what she said in the bar that night. I wanted to go home but I didn't want to leave her on her own… She went off though. And I lost her… Then I went out to the car park looking for her. She was on the ground and even from a distance she didn't look right. And I had this sick feeling in my belly telling me to turn round. So I couldn’t look and see…She was really pale but still breathing. I shouted for help and I spoke to her. I stroked her face and held the back of her head in my hands... There was blood everywhere. She was cold… Some people came to help and I didn't let her go. I held her in my arms and… The last thing I did was lie to her. I said it'd all be okay. And we waited for the ambulance and she looked up at me and her green eyes went grey. She looked at me till there was nothing left of her.”
A single tear ran down his left cheek. A single lonely sniff went with it and I had no