Читать книгу The Living - Anjali Joseph - Страница 13

I woke up aching, with a sore throat. My back hurt. That doesn’t normally happen. I was having a dream. Brad Pitt came to start at the factory. I had to show him around. We ended up in bed. But people kept breaking into the room to talk to him. They wouldn’t behave normally. Brad and I sat in bed discussing it, how people couldn’t just be normal, couldn’t be human. I got up thinking, Who’d have thought Brad would be so sensible? And, it’s a pity it wasn’t Johnny. And, my back hurts. My legs hurt. My shoulders hurt. I went to bed at eleven, lights out at midnight. Friday: you know you can do what you want, assuming you can remember what that is.

I made coffee, and sat on the sofa. Then lay down. My head was full of the people I knew, little aches, like insects buzzing. Katie, Helen, Sandra, who’s Jason’s friend Steve’s mum, my older brother, haven’t seen him for years, Dad. I didn’t want to see any of them, but feeling them there made me more lonely. It was amazing how tired I was. I lay on my front and closed my eyes. I tried to ask myself what could be wrong. What should I do today? What’s wrong? Go into town. Look at some shops. Have a coffee. Behave like a person. I couldn’t even imagine the noise and press in the city on a Saturday coming up to summer. I didn’t feel sick in an obvious way. Should I have a cigarette? I asked the quiet part of me, right inside. Should I have a cigarette? It said it really didn’t matter, and that put me off more than the voice in my head saying, stop smoking, which always made me want to.

Mum, Jason said. He came in talking loudly. I can’t find my shirt. My strip. I can’t find it.

He wasn’t upset yet. He was just raising the issue.

I said still face down, Have you looked in the laundry basket the airing cupboard under your bed your chest of drawers your kit bag?

I’ve looked everywhere, he said. He went to look in the places I’d said or some of them. The conversation would be continued. He came back in. Are you ill? he said. What are you doing?

Maybe I’m coming down with something, I said.

What does it feel like?

My back was heavy. It feels I wanted to say like thirty-five years came into my body and forgot to leave. There’s too much time in here. I’m done for.

Aching muscles, I said. He snorted and went out. A bit later I heard him shout, It’s not in the laundry bin or the airing cupboard!

I needed to go to the shops and buy food. Buy food, I thought. That was one thing. And get up and move a bit. Move. That was another.

Should I call someone, I asked myself. Arrange to meet for a coffee? Too late notice. Weekend. Are you depressed? I feel uneasy with things. You’re not getting younger. You look relatively all right now. You’re relatively young. Shouldn’t things be happening? Isn’t this when things should happen? Is there something you forgot to do to make them start?

But the quiet part of me said there was no point forcing anything. It wouldn’t work. Then what should I do? Shouldn’t I do something? Is this all you want from me? I nagged. But it didn’t want me to do anything. Why is everything so fucking simple? I asked, then wanted to laugh.

Jason came back in. Kick-off’s in an hour! he said.

Did you look in your bag? I said.

He went away. Got it! I heard.

By the way there’s no food, he said when he came back in, wearing his tracksuit, bag slung over his shoulder. I had cereal. I’m just telling you. I can go to the shop on my way back but it’ll be later. Text me if you want me to. Bye Mum.

Bye, I said, and I went back to trying to understand something about the day, and what it wanted.