Increasingly adrift in life, a man reflects on his relationships with the people closest to him while he ponders a solution to his disquiet.
The way I’ve come to see it, bad news at least tends to distinguish itself. It takes days that would have been nothing but smoke and carves them a place in the memory. It’s a perspective that resonates with me again this evening. And if as I suspect, today’s offering is of the minor variety, the kind that doesn’t leave a scar, then all the better.
I keep this silver-lining in mind as I climb the stairs to Kelly’s flat. A muffled hollering rumbles above, echoing down the stairwell, getting clearer with every step. The voice belongs to my brother-in-law, and I start to pick up on the flavour of tonight’s yelling: slurred and self-righteous with a pinch of spite. My sister’s voice then chimes in during what I suspect is just him pausing for breath. And sure enough, he starts up again as I reach their floor.
I pause before I knock – a little on edge but a yawn ripples through me, nevertheless. Then I rap my knuckles on the door two times, firm but controlled. He quiets down and opens it.
“What a fucking surprise…” Glen says by way of welcome.
“Yeah, and seeing you is the highlight of my day too.”
Fucked up thing being, it kind of is. A thought I don’t let settle.
“You had to call him, huh?!” he shouts over his shoulder towards the back of the flat. Shouts rather than screams – so that’s something. Then back to me, “It’s nothing, we’re just working a few things out. She gets… dramatic.”
I’m about to tell him that I don’t need him to describe my sister to me, but then I hear Kelly call my name. She’s locked herself in the bathroom. Just like a few months ago. And a couple of months before that too. I give Glen a look that says “Well?” and he puts his arms up as if washing his hands of the matter and steps aside. I look him over as I enter, trying to gauge how much he’s had to drink. His balance isn’t what it should be, but I’ve seen him worse. This might go smoothly from here after all.
He ambles to the kitchen, but I don’t want him in there. A lot of sharp things in the kitchen.
“Hey, Glen.”
“What?”
“How about you wait in the living room, give me a little space to talk to Kelly. It’ll be better to calm things down, yeah?”
He thinks for a moment, then nods and brushes past me. I turn and watch him plonk himself down on the sofa.
That’ll do.
I knock on the bathroom door, gently this time.
“Hey, it’s me. Can you open up?”
She doesn’t say anything but I hear the lock unclick. Then the door swings open and she’s just standing there, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt, eyes red and puffy, her faltering sobs reminiscent of hiccups. To look at her briefly takes me back to when we were kids, the day our dog, Rocky, got hit by a car. That same look of disbelief. Which makes no sense to me, because while the dog was a shock, this no longer is – but now’s not the time to point that out. I just hug her and she collapses into me. We stay like that for a minute. Then I step back and gently push her hair out of her face and check for marks.
“It’s okay,” she says in between spasms of breath. “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. He was just acting out.”
I continue to check her.
“It’s okay,” she insists.
“You sure?”
She nods.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
I guide her through the flat towards the open front door. Glen walks back into the hall.
“Why not, eh? Start things up and walk away. Fucking typical.” His voice calmer but no less judgemental, which Kelly does not appreciate.
“I didn’t start a fucking thing!”
“Do not fucking talk to me like that.”
I make a point of keeping my mouth shut as I guide her out to the landing, limiting my contribution to a hard glare as I pass. Some people have a short fuse, for others it’s long. These days I seem to have both, potluck as to which shows itself. Which means I have to keep it all on a tight rein.
“You look like you want to say something?” he says to me.
“I want to do a lot of things,” I reply.
Kelly finishes putting her shoes on. Glen shrugs, turns and makes his way to the kitchen, where the sharp things are. I remember reading once about the number of accidents that happen in the home. I quietly cross my fingers...
The way I’ve come to see it, bad news at least tends to distinguish itself. It takes days that would have been nothing but smoke and carves them a place in the memory. It’s a perspective that resonates with me again this evening. And if as I suspect, today’s offering is of the minor variety, the kind that doesn’t leave a scar, then all the better.
I keep this silver-lining in mind as I climb the stairs to Kelly’s flat. A muffled hollering rumbles above, echoing down the stairwell, getting clearer with every step. The voice belongs to my brother-in-law, and I start to pick up on the flavour of tonight’s yelling: slurred and self-righteous with a pinch of spite. My sister’s voice then chimes in during what I suspect is just him pausing for breath. And sure enough, he starts up again as I reach their floor.
I pause before I knock – a little on edge but a yawn ripples through me, nevertheless. Then I rap my knuckles on the door two times, firm but controlled. He quiets down and opens it.
“What a fucking surprise…” Glen says by way of welcome.
“Yeah, and seeing you is the highlight of my day too.”
Fucked up thing being, it kind of is. A thought I don’t let settle.
“You had to call him, huh?!” he shouts over his shoulder towards the back of the flat. Shouts rather than screams – so that’s something. Then back to me, “It’s nothing, we’re just working a few things out. She gets… dramatic.”
I’m about to tell him that I don’t need him to describe my sister to me, but then I hear Kelly call my name. She’s locked herself in the bathroom. Just like a few months ago. And a couple of months before that too. I give Glen a look that says “Well?” and he puts his arms up as if washing his hands of the matter and steps aside. I look him over as I enter, trying to gauge how much he’s had to drink. His balance isn’t what it should be, but I’ve seen him worse. This might go smoothly from here after all.
He ambles to the kitchen, but I don’t want him in there. A lot of sharp things in the kitchen.
“Hey, Glen.”
“What?”
“How about you wait in the living room, give me a little space to talk to Kelly. It’ll be better to calm things down, yeah?”
He thinks for a moment, then nods and brushes past me. I turn and watch him plonk himself down on the sofa.
That’ll do.
I knock on the bathroom door, gently this time.
“Hey, it’s me. Can you open up?”
She doesn’t say anything but I hear the lock unclick. Then the door swings open and she’s just standing there, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt, eyes red and puffy, her faltering sobs reminiscent of hiccups. To look at her briefly takes me back to when we were kids, the day our dog, Rocky, got hit by a car. That same look of disbelief. Which makes no sense to me, because while the dog was a shock, this no longer is – but now’s not the time to point that out. I just hug her and she collapses into me. We stay like that for a minute. Then I step back and gently push her hair out of her face and check for marks.
“It’s okay,” she says in between spasms of breath. “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. He was just acting out.”
I continue to check her.
“It’s okay,” she insists.
“You sure?”
She nods.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
I guide her through the flat towards the open front door. Glen walks back into the hall.
“Why not, eh? Start things up and walk away. Fucking typical.” His voice calmer but no less judgemental, which Kelly does not appreciate.
“I didn’t start a fucking thing!”
“Do not fucking talk to me like that.”
I make a point of keeping my mouth shut as I guide her out to the landing, limiting my contribution to a hard glare as I pass. Some people have a short fuse, for others it’s long. These days I seem to have both, potluck as to which shows itself. Which means I have to keep it all on a tight rein.
“You look like you want to say something?” he says to me.
“I want to do a lot of things,” I reply.
Kelly finishes putting her shoes on. Glen shrugs, turns and makes his way to the kitchen, where the sharp things are. I remember reading once about the number of accidents that happen in the home. I quietly cross my fingers...