Being Kalli(36)

I get into this box. I box myself in, I know. I never remember hiding away. It just happens.

Feeling so hopeless in Scout’s arms, I wish I’d just held it in again as I always do to make today about sharing her secret. But so much rides on me keeping myself together for Seth, Tristan and my mum’s sake, and today I just had to let it out. It’s tiring keeping it together on my own. Every family needs their glue and I’m it.

If letting go and acting weak is the only way to become stronger, why do I feel so nothing at all?



• • •



The next day on my way home from work, I drop by Aunty Nicole’s.

I’ve asked about the fight between my mum and her. I’ve always been too young, it’s never the right time. I don’t know if it is because Aunty Nicole can read what happened between Scout and I on my face, but this time she agrees and tells me. I’ll take the pity vote. Yeah, I’m at that kinda stage.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says. She waves me in. “Tea?”

“Sure.”

Aunty Nicole side-steps past me to get to the kitchen although there is plenty of space in the entry.

That sets the mood and I don’t know how much more awkward I can take. “Aunty Nicole?” She spins around from the kitchen bench, the top of the sugar container still in her hand. “Is everything okay?”

She contemplates answering for a second and goes for a barely noticeable sigh. But I see it. It was there. “Sorry, I forgot. How many sugars? Do you take black or white?”

“White. One sugar, thanks.”

I decide to close my mouth and wait for her. She walks from cupboard to fridge to drawer to cup with grace, owning that space and seemingly forgetting I’m here. She places a coaster under my tea. That’s when I notice she hasn’t made one for herself, so I settle for cupping mine and blowing the steam away, her quiet in the chair opposite me.

“Your mum stumbled in at seven in the morning in the dress and heels she’d left in the night before. We were days away from winter. Dad had enough of her.

“He loved sitting on the grass out back, telling you stories from his working days. He enjoyed letting you put makeup on him because it made you happy and you had no grandma to do it with. He even put up with you screaming for your mummy, although it broke his heart.

“But when Mary stumbled through that door looking like half a person, dress stained and ripped, one shoe missing, hair like a bird’s nest, eyes big and bloodshot, gaze unfocused and laughing at nothing at all, he cracked.

“Dad walked out without a word.

“I stood there feeling words like ‘stupid’, ‘air head’ and ‘loser’ slamming inside my thoughts as she felt along the wall to get to the couch in the living room until I burst, too.

“I asked her, ‘Again?’ and she flopped against the back cushion before lolling her head to the side and staring right through me. She said it was only two nights.

“‘Have you slept?’

“‘Yeah, I sleep all the time, Nic.’

“I was a million thoughts, each racing the other to fill the gaps in the story, each one worse than the rest. It wasn’t one really late night. It was many, all the time. What else had gone on?

“She never looked at me. Not once. She was so delusional, pointing out unicorns racing through the walls, that I had to pick her up and take her to where she was looking to stop it. Turns out she hadn’t slept for two days and hadn’t spent a minute of that time sober.

“I had pointed to her spare room at Dad’s house and told her to please, Christ, just sleep. But she said there were ants under her skin keeping her awake.

“I’m ashamed I said what I did after, but my blood felt like it was boiling and it stung just standing there, letting the anger burn me up. I said, ‘You’re just like Mum. You’ll end up just like Mum. Is that the goal?’

“She made the effort to at least try to sit straight. Then she steadied her arms on either side of the couch. ‘Stay the fuck away, Nic. You and your fake husband. I’m not low enough to compare you to our dead mum, but the fact is I live my life, my way. Dad can’t understand it, you can’t either. You’re a bunch of cardboard cut-outs. I’m not afraid to do everything fun I’ve wanted to do with my life. But I guess you wouldn’t understand fun. You haven’t taken a day off work, a holiday, a night out, nothing for yourself. I’m not afraid to try live.’

“‘That’s a bunch of crap.’

“‘Well,’ Mary had slurred. She took a moment to get her mouth working again. ‘Take my bunch of crap or leave it.’