Thirteen – The Two OfUs
Night can’t come fast enough. Bed is nevermore welcome. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling shadows.The blind flaps back and forth allowing the dark to guzzle theavailable light from a full moon.
I don’t know where my thinking should startor end. I am thankful that I am alone at last. I listen for voicesfrom the family flock. I can hear Mum and my father ask questionsand search for answers. Pain, bewilderment, blame and reasons arechewed over in a muffle. Mum’s coughing starts again. It sounds asthough part of the bedroom ceiling has given way and she iscoughing up plaster dust. I see the piles of books that both havestacked either side of them on their bedside tables. I hope one ofthem might have read something about how to handle ‘the word’ whichhas brande
