‘Working on an application.’

‘What for?’

‘Just a job. At a restaurant. Something to tide me over.’

She wants to mention university now. I can feel it.

‘That’s something at least.’ She hovers. ‘Have you heard from Lorna lately?’

‘Mum!’

‘I’m just asking.’

‘Well, don’t.’

‘I was thinking of getting a takeaway later and watching a film. What d’you think?’

‘Dunno. I’m pretty busy here.’

She retreats to the door. She’s almost gone.

‘If you change your mind…’ she says.

I nod, but it’s not going to happen and she knows it.

The door shuts. She’s gone and I can breathe, but I can’t breathe. I don’t know why it’s like this. I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know what I want. I don’t want anything.

Nan in the home, turning away or staring at my forehead when I try to talk to her, as if there’s always something more interesting going on behind me. As if she’s waiting for someone better. Waiting for Ned. And that girl comes in and she wakes up, she focuses. Not on me, on her. The girl with the dark hair. Her name is something exotic. Anita. Brigitte. Sinita. What does it matter? There’s no one. There’s nothing.

Push the chair back and climb into bed, right under the duvet so that I can’t see any light, so that I’m breathing in my own air, nails into the palms of my hands, elbows into my stomach. It starts in my head. The words: Verily I say unto you, even as I am. Come follow me. Come. Follow.

Then I whisper it: Please God, please God, please God, and outside a bird is singing and the light must be going and the air is getting hotter under here and please God I don’t know how I’ll ever move from this spot.

5:03 pm

Something is altogether wrong. There are doors that never open. Things I can’t get hold of.

Here is the church, here is the steeple.             Oh come ye, oh come ye to Be-eth-lehem.            Here is the church, here is the         church.

That church.                           The seats were hard. Like rock. Kneeling down, getting up. My bum went numb. Mum pinched my leg because I couldn’t keep my bottom still. The coffin was so very tiny. Dad had his head down for the whole thing. Right down on his knees. He wouldn’t look. I poked him on the shoulder because I wanted him to sit up straight and help me find the hymn. He wouldn’t move. Not until everyone else was gone.

There was a boy –  there was definitely a boy.

I’m starting to think he’s not coming.

6 May 2006

Afsana