This texting nonsense is a load of bollocks! Why don’t people just pick up the telephone and speak to each other in a civilised way?
And just so you know, this took me twelve attempts, but at least now I know how to write in capitals. I just can’t find the numbers yet.
Cam x
That strange thing happened to my face again; the muscles in my cheeks seem to have a mind of their own this morning and keep forcing my lips into a smile. It feels quite nice.
LOL, u r funny
I pull on an old pair of Sean’s joggers and an old hoodie of his; I am already wearing his T-shirt since I only ever sleep in his clothes. I put my hair up in a scrunchy, pick up my phone and stare at the door. I can do this. I am going to get through today and I am going to smile as I do. My family has been through so much alongside me, and much of it has been unnecessary and caused by my own selfishness. I am determined not to give them any cause for worry today. I turn my phone from silent to ring and head out the door in search of coffee.
*
The house is empty, which is unusual since my parents have been up my arse like a pair of knickers for the past ten months. I can’t blame them; I put everyone through Hell in the first few months after Sean died. I behaved selfishly and twice attempted to take my own life, without a single thought for the effect it would have on anyone else. As much as living hurt, it’s not something I plan on putting anyone through again.
There is a note on the table telling me my mum and dad have gone to the shops. The whole family are coming over tonight, and they have to buy food and alcohol.
I asked that we kept things low-key; I wasn’t ready to celebrate anything in my life yet, but my brothers insisted we all spend the evening together regardless. We would have to have a cake, though; they insisted, just for the sake of the children, who would want to blow out the candles at least nineteen times, and my mum would let them. And anyway, I always looked forward to spending time with my crazy-arsed family, so I am actually looking forward to it.
My phone pings, alerting me of another text. I flick on the coffee machine and sit at the bench while it percolates.
What language are you speaking, Kitten?
Oh, and I’ve found how to work the number thing
12345678910
Kitten. He calls me Kitten. God, I used to love it when he did that. My insides squirm a little bit for some reason, and I laugh to myself as I read the message and pour my coffee, wearing a stupid grin on my face. I’m thinking of a reply and about to sit down when the buzzer sounds for the electric gates at the front of my parents’ property. I stare at the intercom for a few seconds, not sure what I should do. I jump as they buzz again; then my mobile rings and I jump so badly this time, it causes me to spill coffee all down myself.
“Shit,” I say to no one in particular, my mum’s number flashing on the screen.
“Mum, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about getting the gates; we’re coming through them now.”
“Okay,” I say and end the call. Well, that was a pointless conversation since I could actually hear Mum and Dad pulling up outside. My mum has only recently gotten her first mobile phone and the idea is still novel to her; she will even call me from the next room, just because she can. She is on a one-hundred-and-eighty-minute plan, and is determined to use every bloody one of them; she’s even called Marley while he was in the toilet and told him to make sure he washed his hands. Marley pretended he’d gotten crap on his phone by answering it and had chased her around the house, waving it while she screamed for ten minutes. Marley’s phone has since become known as the ‘shitty phone’ and no one will touch it.
I walk to the front door, wiping the coffee from the front of my hoodie onto the sleeve, where it would be less obvious. I open the door as Mum reaches it, carrying a massive bouquet of creamy-white arum lilies; my stomach lurches and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. I think I pant or gasp for a few seconds trying to get my breath. I look at my mum, who’s as wide-eyed as me.
“There was a florist trying to deliver these at the gate; this was with them.”
She passes me the bouquet and a thick, cream-coloured envelope. My breath leaves my lungs, my legs start to go from under me and I think I see my mum’s front step come towards me as she screams my name. My dad rushes towards me and then nothing.
Chapter Two
I become aware of two things at once: voices whispering in the distance and an absolute pounding in my head. I lay still, debating whether opening my eyes will make my head feel worse. Somebody kisses my lips very gently and my eyes fly open to meet Marley’s, who is sitting in the armchair opposite me. I try to sit up, but my head feels like it’s been punched so I lay back down as Marley darts out of the chair and kneels in front of me.