Читать книгу When Boys Kiss Boys - Richard Crlik - Страница 1

The afternoon sun broke suddenly through the summer storm clouds which had been building for the past few hours causing Hope to stir into semi consciousness. She had taken one, or was it two, pills and the wine bottle on the table next to her was almost empty. Enough to take her away from her sorrows but not enough that she wasn't aware of the suns heat that she could now feel burning her leg.

As a young girl life had seemed like one long, long summer. Where school and chores were just the short interval between the endless hours spent playing under the hot, summer sun and getting in 'just one more game please' before it grew dark and dads came home from work. She could still hear her mother's voice insisting she wore tights underneath her skirt and long sleeves when ever she played outside.

'Young ladies don't get brown like little aborigines and you don't want to get freckles either.'

This was her mother's automatic response every time Hope had complained about the restrictive and hot clothes she was made to wear. She hated the long thick tights that the other kids laughed at but she hated freckles even more. She freckled easily if she caught the sun. Not small cute dots like in the story book pictures. No she got big brown, blotchy spots that stayed for weeks and which the girls at school teased her about.

She wasn't sure what a young lady was supposed to be like either. Probably not some one who played in the dirty, dusty streets and who took great delight in catching the ball when one of the boys had hit it in her direction. Grinning as she ran wildly up the street with the boys chasing her. She could out run them all, she knew, but she never did. Content with getting the better of them and being the centre of attention for a brief moment, she never ran far. Always stopping before their protests of 'girls aren't allowed' got too noisy and her mother heard and came out to call her in - which had happened more than once.

It was no use arguing. Nobody argued with their mother. Mother knew best and the whole street knew she was a force to be reckoned with. People rarely questioned her wisdom or if they did it was only once. It was just easier as her dad used to say quietly to her and her brother Tommy when they had grumbled. So she wore the long, hot clothes and ran only so far with the ball. Keeping her promise to her dad to make things easier.

Hope pushed back on one foot and swiveled the chair clumsily away from the suns burning touch, her arm flailing awkwardly as she groped for the bottle on the table and emptied the last few dregs into her glass. Inside the house the clock chimed.

'Bong, bong, bong'.

Three o'clock. Somewhere in the haze that was her mind her maternal instincts surfaced. She should be finishing the housework before Ben came home. There was washing in the machine and hadn't she left the breakfast dishes on the sink? Thank goodness she hadn't drunk too much. Yes she was still in control. She gulped down the last of her drink and stood up. The sudden movement causing her head to spin ever so slightly. Unsteadily she walked across the verandah through the open glass doors of the dining room and into the kitchen, empty wine bottle in hand.

She dropped the empty bottle in the pedal bin, hiding the evidence, and was about to tackle the dishes when she became aware of a strange,whirring and clicking noise. Was it in the room? Was it inside her head? She shook her head, strands of auburn hair escaping from the loose 'up-do' which she had carelessly pushed together earlier in the morning. The noise persisted. Almost like the strange hollow hissing when you put a shell to your ear, she thought to herself, but with a repeating click. Hiss, click, hiss click over and over.

Hope covered her ears with her hands. The noise stopped. She removed her hands. Hiss, click, hiss, click, hiss,click. She walked across the kitchen and through the dining room and the noise got louder. Maybe she was going mad? Maybe the pills that the doctor had prescribed and which had worked so wonderfully in keeping those horrible pictures from her head had stopped working. The idea was terrifying.

Reality blissfully dawned. She had left the stereo player running! She remembered pouring a wine hours ago and putting on a record. It had been something classical. She couldn't remember what but she remembered thinking it would be soothing and help her relax, which it had. Now it was just turning around and around aimlessly with the needle sliding across the edge of the record before being bumped back on to the same groove to whir and click over and over.

She put the needle back and removed the record, replacing it in the cover and switching the stereo off. She felt better now. She was still in control, she hadn't drunk too much after all. There was still at least half an hour before Ben got home. She could leave the dishes and the washing for a little while longer - there wasn't much point in hanging out the washing if there was going to be a thunderstorm anyway. She was perfectly fine. So fine in fact that she could open another bottle and have a few more minutes lost deeply in her happy childhood memories.