by Nikki Dudley
The lock gapes open in my grip, allowing me to twist it sideways and rip it away from the body it has hung from like a piercing. The locker is now unlocked, ready to be opened, ready… Go! I tell myself and fling it open, expecting ghouls to fly out or a hammer to swing towards me and crunch every bone in my face.
Yet everything is still. Nothing comes towards me out of the locker. Nothing is hiding in there to bite my fingers off, one by one. Inside there are only a few small objects. A red scarf, origami shapes made from red paper, a brown file and a few letters with the name Daniel written on the front. The handwriting looks familiar yet I can’t place it. The red shapes mean nothing to me, the scarf seemingly useless when I am wearing one exactly like it. The file is fat and bulging, squashed together with two fat elastic bands, holding its secrets inside.
Mum, what do you think it all is? I wonder if you’d tell me to just shut the locker door and leave it all here. But how can I do that?
Checking nobody is watching, I empty all of the contents into my bag. The fat file is a monster, its corners pressing against the closed zip, bursting to spill its contents. A few strands of the scarf get caught in the zip but I stuff them back inside and hastily pull the bag onto my shoulder. I close the locker and hang the lock back in its place, locking it without thinking.
I hug my bag as I pass through the crowds, anxious someone will try to steal it or that some undercover policeman, who has been following me without my knowledge, will suddenly reveal himself and demand I hand it to him. I wouldn’t be able to hand it over though, not even Thom could prise the bag handles from my bloodless fist.
31 The Intervention
As Sarah is searching for a safe place to examine her items, Thom is on the living room sofa, staring at a family picture. It is a photo from about four years ago when Aunty Val and the three of them took a day trip to a theme park. They are all smiling in the photo, all the outward ‘signs’ point to a happy family but Thom wants to rip it apart now. Underneath Daniel’s shy smile there is only hate and the desire to destroy others, to destroy all of them.
Thom is so engrossed in his dark interpretation of the photo that he only notices the others when their shadows drift over it. He lifts his head up reluctantly, yet is still undeservedly warmed by Aunty Val’s smile as she lowers herself beside him. Richard enters the room behind her and before taking a seat in his usual armchair opposite, empties his pockets of a screwdriver and some nails. For some reason, he thinks carrying these things will keep him prepared or something. Yet, can he fix us all with some nails and a screwdriver?
Aunty Val notices the photo he is holding and runs her hand over it, her mouth stuck like a cross, a smile overlapped with a frown. Her fingers linger over Daniel for a split second and then fall into her lap. She wraps her other arm around Thom and squeezes him to her. Part of him melts into her familiar form, the part that also wants to find Sarah and melt into her warm moist mouth. Another part doesn’t want to be squeezed in case all his dark thoughts and questions and anger gush out.
“Can we talk to you, Thom?” Aunty Val asks gently, like someone approaching an addict who needs rescuing. Thom smiles weakly and nods. He glances over at Richard, who has his hands clasped together in front of him, seeming like a doctor or a CEO delivering bad news. Thom has an urge to simply jump up and run.
“Richard saw what happened to Daniel’s room”, Aunty Val begins warily and continues gently as though Thom is a landmine, “and your hands have been injured recently. So we put two and two together...”
“If you want to ask me about something, why don’t you just do it?” Thom says flatly, staring her directly in the face until she blinks rapidly and looks down.
“Thom, did you smash up Daniel’s room?” she asks quietly.
Thom casts a glance in Richard’s direction and announces, “Yes, I did”.
With his omission, the air in the room tightens. “Why would you do that, darling?” Aunty Val’s expression is that of Thom having peed all over her favourite possessions. A storm is churning inside Thom, and he can’t look at Richard or Aunty Val for the next few moments or he fears he will detonate. One sight of them will split him in two and he doesn’t know if he will be able to fuse the nuclei back together and exist as before.
“Did you look around in there, Aunty?” Thom doesn’t want to do this but she is forcing him. It’s her own fault if she wants to find out this way.
“No. I just stood in the doorway and looked in. I still can’t do that”.
“And you Rich, did you check anywhere?” Thom persists.
He hears Richard shuffling in his chair. “No, I just saw the wardrobe”, he pauses, and even from the corner of his eye, Thom sees him tugging at his ear lobe. “What are you getting at?”
“I didn’t want to tell you”, Thom moans.
“Tell us what?” Aunty Val whispers but her voice is so tight Thom can see she wants to cork her ears. She still feels like a pane of glass without a frame. She has lost one child and another of her ‘children’ has become consumed by something ever since. What can she do to save the one who still lives?
“It’s all empty”. Thom shrugs, almost bored with the revelation. He and Sarah have both seen this revelation through each phase and they have reached the surface again, not wanting to go back for those still struggling below.
Richard sits forward in his chair. “What’s empty? Stop talking in riddles, Thom”, Richard chides.
“When have I ever spoken in riddles?”
“We spoke to Emma. She’s worried about you”, Aunty Val adds, trying to quell the rising argument, not realising she is only sparking more anger in Thom.
“She’s just trying to get back at me because she got knocked back”.
“You shouldn’t be so rude about her”, Richard says.
“Do you always act the way you’re supposed to, Rich?” Thom snarls.
Richard shrinks back in his chair and gives him a shocked smile. “Of course not, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ve both come in here to judge me, haven’t you? Because you don’t agree with how I’ve been acting, because you think I wrote those horrible things in that notebook, because I haven’t acted the same as you”. Thom spits each sound. Aunty Val begins to breathe shortly beside him and he has to use all his strength to scream at his body not to attend to her.
“We just want to know what’s going on”. Richard stands up and waves his hands around in the air, someone drowning or waving to a boat pulling away from him. Thom leans forward, rubbing his eyes into his palms.
“I tried to tell you about his room, didn’t I?”
“What, that it’s empty? What does that mean?” Richard stares at Thom.
“Exactly what I said!” Thom barks back.
“Why would his room be empty? He was living in there, Thom. The day before he died, he slept in there”. Richard is pacing the space in front of the sofa, as if he is a coach trying to decide what to tell his team at half time. Thom hates to see Richard troubled, he hates to see him pulling at his ear again like the day they first discussed Daniel and smoked together in Thom’s room. Yet, this is what they are both asking him for – discomfort, awkwardness, and revelations.
“I don’t know, Richard. But… the drawers are empty, the wardrobe is empty, there’s not a scrap of anything in there. Believe me, I’ve looked”. Thom is jerking in his seat, so much that Aunty Val reaches over and presses down on his leg. Thom tries to regulate his breathing, in the same instance wondering why Aunty Val seems so composed.
“How could there be nothing, Thom?” Aunty Val asks quietly.
“You think I know? I’ve thought and thought and thought again about all this and I have no answers. If you were expecting me to help you out, I’m afraid I’ll have to let you down”.
“Why are you being so aggressive about this?” Richard is leaning towards Thom, his hands stretched towards him, yet he doesn’t touch Thom. “Does this have someth
ing to do with Sarah?”
“What have you got against her Rich? Leave her alone”, Thom cautions him and continues angrily, “I’ve been dealing with all this for weeks and suddenly you’re interested. Oh woe betides me, I’ve known this fact for about five minutes and I want all the fucking answers!”
“Thom, please don’t swear”, Aunty Val says. Thom is about to say something biting when he looks into her eyes and changes his mind.
“Who cares if he swears, Mum? Have you heard what he’s been saying?” Richard kicks the carpet. All his muscles and veins are Braille on the surface of his skin. “He says Daniel emptied his room somehow, without our knowledge! He’s been really rude about his girlfriend and he’s started hanging around with some strange woman. And when we ask him to help us understand something, he completely turns on us like a stupid dog. You have to get him to talk normally Mum, please”.
Richard slumps into the armchair and stares at the ceiling. Perhaps he is praying and, if he is, Thom wants to tell him that God doesn’t exist. Like he told Sarah, He’s a fabrication. He’s a lifeboat that people search for in a violent sea but one that deflated itself for him after his parents died.
“Richard, would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?” Aunty Val asks as softly as ever, seemingly oblivious to the last ten minutes. She sits next to Thom with a straight back and with her hands placed by either leg. Thom remembers, in that pose, why he respects her so much. Why has he been pushing her away?
Richard stares at her, yet after a few seconds, he pushes himself to his feet. He gives them both a concerned frown and leaves the room with a few large strides. As he slams the door, Aunty Val swivels her body round to face Thom and makes him do the same. Thom hears the clock again and with the slam of the door, the hands instantly get down onto their knees and begin to crawl around the clock face.
“Aunty, I’m...” She puts her hand up and Thom closes his lips immediately.
“Thom, I want to speak”. She massages her forehead briefly. “Darling, I’m so worried about you. And I have to tell you…” Aunty Val’s lips are choking on shapes. Thom reaches up, sweeping her cheek with his fingers briefly, meeting her gaze. “I have to tell you something…” she resumes, “I’m afraid, Thom. More afraid than I’ve ever been”. Aunty Val has weighed down the life-raft and must empty the excess out before she sinks. Thom isn’t sure he wants to hold all her excess though.
“Aunty, I don’t...”
“I’m not finished, Thom”, she warns. Thom bows his head.
“What I’m trying to say to you is… well, you know how important you are to me, don’t you darling?” Thom nods quietly. “Well, when your parents died, I felt so worried about you. I didn’t know if I could help you…” Thom doesn’t know why they always seem to be talking about this subject lately. Why does she want to keep returning to this? Why does she want to poke and infect the wound? He wants to tell her that their deaths are necrotic tissue that he would be happy to surgically remove.
“You are so important to me. I love you so much darling. And I’m so proud of you, do you know? Well, I’m sure you do. I’m just saying that I’m proud of you for everything but most of all, for how you dealt with it. How you rebuilt your life and let us be your family…”
“Aunty Val, this isn’t helping anyone”, Thom pleads; tempted to gouge his eyeballs out and stuff them in his ears.
“Thom, please, I’ve always been so amazed by your strength. I know you can get yourself back on track”. Aunty Val grabs one of Thom’s hands between hers. It is a clamp, Thom can only dream of escaping it. All the while, he is chuckling inside his mind at her use of the word ‘track’. He is on a track that’s true, just not the one she hopes he is on.
“What’s been worrying you? Why have you been so angry?”
“My cousin dying isn’t enough?” Thom challenges. Aunty Val squints and looks away as though he has squirted lemon juice in her eye.
“Of course it’s enough... But I asked you about more than that”.
“I told you about his room Aunty Val. If you don’t believe me, check for yourself!” Thom tosses her hand back to her. She stares at it, an invisible gash leaking blood down her arm.
“But you haven’t said why you think it happened. Was he moving out? What do you know about it, Thom?”
“I’m trying to protect you”. Thom grinds his teeth with each vibration of his tongue. Aunty Val is putting her organs on a stick and ramming them into a fire. Why is she asking him to hurt her?
“Sometimes you look so much like him”, Aunty Val whispers.
“What?” Thom feels his brain splitting in two. “Don’t say that ever again”.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to look like him or be like him or remind anyone of him ever. Do you understand that?” Thom speaks the sentence slowly and she doesn’t appreciate it.
“Fine, forget that”. She bites her lip. “But what are you hiding about Daniel? If you’re sad about losing him, we can understand. We’ve felt all the emotions too”. Aunty Val grabs him by both shoulders and holds him steady. Thom curls his hands into balls and stabs his own skin.
“He’s the one who hid things Aunty”.
“Is this my fault?” Aunty Val asks suddenly.
“I’m not saying you’re a bad parent. This isn’t about you”.
“Have I been there for you, Thom?” Aunty Val pulls him closer. Her breath makes his cheek moist.
“Yes Aunty, yes”, he stutters, trying to regain a distance between them. “But I have to tell you something”.
“You’re frightening me, Thom”.
“I’m frightened too”. Thom is shaking to emphasise his point.
“Just tell me. You can tell me”. She is gritting her teeth. Her mouth is twitching. He is worried what he will do to her. He might as well stone her to death. This way he is instead throwing her overboard into an unsure sea that could drive her anywhere and even make her lungs so heavy she might sink.
“He knew, Aunty Val”, Thom manages to say. Again, he has failed to articulate the whole sentence he intended. Speech has floated away from him once again.
“What did he know?” Aunty Val shudders, her voice shrill. Thom gets the sense she already knows something, she seems too quick to panic. Yet she hasn’t given any hints before. Is he being paranoid yet again?
“That he was going to die”, Thom surrenders.
Her eyes instantly roll, and she collapses.
32 Red Gifts
I scurry through the city, a fugitive, a dirty rat trying not to get stamped on, and finally settle underneath a tree in a small green. I spend twenty minutes scanning the surrounding area for spies. I even focus on several nearby bushes and monitor them for irregular movement and stare up into the branches above, watching the sway until I feel I can trust it.
I’m so glad I have you with me. I can’t face this alone, Mum.
Unzipping my bag, my chest grows increasingly hollow the wider the mouth opens. I wonder what will happen when I reach inside, whether I will fall in and keep sinking. Trembling, I close my eyes and plunge my hand within. I let my fingers drift around the items, trying to feel Daniel’s presence pulsating from them. Yet there is nothing and I fear I have lost him, my pulse racing for someone else instead.
I pluck out the red origami first and examine each one. One has been made into a swan, another a flower, another looks like a horse. There are six altogether. Someone has obviously taken time making these, each fold is precise, each structure complex. I place them in a line next to me, assembling an army.
I take up the scarf; hold it to my nose as I did with his scarf after the push. It doesn’t smell of him. I am even more disappointed because he has faded from the original scarf too. Slowly I am losing him and I can’t weave him back into the threads. I toss the scarf aside, making sure it doesn’t mix with my original scarf that at least has some sentimental value.
I decide to tackle the letters next. I stare at his nam
e on the front trying to decipher the author, yet I am blank. Something is familiar in the way the capital D is slanted, aggressively sharp and with a slight dip in the top half. I know who wrote this, why can’t I place them?
I lose patience and turn the envelope over. The seal has already been broken, the lip is cracked and tattered, the adhesive clumped together and dried. With tremors still echoing through me, I fumble with the opening until it slowly gives in. Inside I see white paper folded into three. Holding my breath, I snatch the paper from inside, the swiping sound of its exit like a guillotine rushing towards a helpless neck.
I unfold the paper and find a letter. Looking at the first word it stops me dead: Daniel. I feel like I have been hurtled into a brick wall, not just because of what the first word is but because I finally connect the writing with the owner. Like my shadow finally catching up with me, I realise the author is me.
Mum, mum, why is my writing on this page?
After stalling on the first word, I eventually manage to break through the current and begin to take in the rest of the letter:
I can’t stop thinking about you. I love the gifts you sent me, as always. I take them out when everyone is asleep and stare them. I like to imagine your hands when you were making them, how you wanted to make me smile, how you snuck them in for me without the others seeing.
I have to hide your gifts under one of the floorboards so at night I feel like I am freeing them. I wish I could show everyone how thoughtful and loving you are. I really don’t deserve to have you giving me attention but I thrive on it, it keeps me positive every day I am in this prison.
The doctors have been asking about you but I won’t tell them anything. They just want to catch us out. They don’t want me to be happy or connect with anyone, and they want to keep me in here forever.
I will never forget when I first met you, how you kept trying to make me smile because I looked so sad. I hadn’t spoken properly to anyone in months but you managed to connect with me. I actually feel like you care for me. I haven’t felt that since my Mum and before that, the only person I thought loved me ended up hurting me in the worst way.