MVC The Next Chapter

Isn’t it weird? That we can literally hear the sounds – of memories?

Here is my memory. A memory. The sound of the memory. Don’t worry. It gets better. Eventually.

There were normal nights, when she would be sat there, drinking, smoking, staring into space, oblivion: grief.

There would be ‘could it go in that direction?’ nights, where, when she rose from her cigarette ash-stained corduroy chair, and she’d stumble. A little. Not a lot. The stumble would alert me that ‘one of those nights’ might be about to happen. She would sway, slightly, but maintain her upright posture. Hope. In that posture.

Then there’d be ‘those nights’.

The nights of the Thumping Thud. Those were the nights the ambulance got called.

By me. Obviously.

Oh, she wouldn’t fall. Not at first. But I could tell she was going to. Later. Sometimes much later.

Those were the nights I’d stay up. Sometimes in the same room, so I could catch the lit cigarette before it hit the carpet. Often in my room, all ears out and senses on high alert.

Just in case.

Listening. Hearing. Ready for it.

At first, there’d be a gentle thud, followed by a gentle bang. Those sounds were her heavy bare feet on the kitchen lino followed by her arm banging against the cupboard door as she swayed to keep herself upright as she makes an ash filled corned beef sandwich.

After the sandwich. More whisky.

After the whisky. A couple of temazepam.

Then, oh, give it ten, twenty, forty minutes.

Silence.

Briefly.

Heart starts beating faster. Mouth dry.

Slight clatter (the coffee table). Gentle thuds (bare feet on carpet). Heavy thuds (bare feet stumbling on lino). A second attempt at an ash filled sandwich.

Then the alert.

It’s time.

The Thumping Thud.

She’s fallen.

Usually in the kitchen. But not always.

Always heavy.

Sometimes head injury.

Often, but not always: vomit.

All signs for me to pick up the phone:

9

9

9.

“Hello, ambulance please”.

I am ten years old.

Part 1 in the series ‘The Thumping Thud’.

MVC The Next Chapter