Burying the Past
I'm leaving Gran's house. I'm moving out. And I have the row to thank for it.
Adam and I had a row. I write that and it seems odd, like I'm a schoolgirl reporting a break up with my boyfriend or a wife on the odds with her husband. Adam and I had a row.
He noticed that I have a drink, sometimes two before bed. I don't know how it would be possible for him to not notice, living here with me and sharing our lives together every day. I don't think it's that he didn't notice; I think it's that he held his tongue for as long as he could. Adam suggested I cut back or stop, I suggested that he bugger off. Not the most constructive response or the most encouraging, but . . .I don't know. I think that I was spoiling for a row. I poked at him and jabbed and irritated until he gave it to me. There was something bittersweet about the shouting and the yelling and mental slamming of shields. Maybe it just felt good for both us to express some real emotion again.
The slamming of shields didn't last long. It was too quiet and I didn't like it anymore than Adam did. He took refuge at the island, but let his shields down around the same time I did mine. There's a sort of comfort in the awareness of others, and with so much absent from the world, we couldn't deprive one another of that simple necessity of being.
While he was gone, I cleaned. I started in the kitchen and cleaned my way up the stairs to the bedrooms before Adam came back. That was as far as I could go. I couldn't go into those rooms - not a one of them. (There's a reason I've been sleeping on Gran's sleeper sofa) I could only hover in the doorways seeing the constant afterimage of Mum, Aunt Therese, Gran or Sara in the beds that they died in.
I think I blanked again, and that's why Adam came back. I have a rather hazy and vague recollection of him carrying me downstairs and making me tea, but it was a long while before I came completely back to myself again.
"You can't stay here, Aims. You can't doing this to yourself."
"I know. You'll come with me?"
"Yeah, I will."
And just like the decision was made. We didn't discuss the row. We didn't exchange apologies. Some things simply don't need to be said when your best friend is telepathic and you have the old world behind you and a frightening new one ahead.
Adam and I had a row. I write that and it seems odd, like I'm a schoolgirl reporting a break up with my boyfriend or a wife on the odds with her husband. Adam and I had a row.
He noticed that I have a drink, sometimes two before bed. I don't know how it would be possible for him to not notice, living here with me and sharing our lives together every day. I don't think it's that he didn't notice; I think it's that he held his tongue for as long as he could. Adam suggested I cut back or stop, I suggested that he bugger off. Not the most constructive response or the most encouraging, but . . .I don't know. I think that I was spoiling for a row. I poked at him and jabbed and irritated until he gave it to me. There was something bittersweet about the shouting and the yelling and mental slamming of shields. Maybe it just felt good for both us to express some real emotion again.
The slamming of shields didn't last long. It was too quiet and I didn't like it anymore than Adam did. He took refuge at the island, but let his shields down around the same time I did mine. There's a sort of comfort in the awareness of others, and with so much absent from the world, we couldn't deprive one another of that simple necessity of being.
While he was gone, I cleaned. I started in the kitchen and cleaned my way up the stairs to the bedrooms before Adam came back. That was as far as I could go. I couldn't go into those rooms - not a one of them. (There's a reason I've been sleeping on Gran's sleeper sofa) I could only hover in the doorways seeing the constant afterimage of Mum, Aunt Therese, Gran or Sara in the beds that they died in.
I think I blanked again, and that's why Adam came back. I have a rather hazy and vague recollection of him carrying me downstairs and making me tea, but it was a long while before I came completely back to myself again.
"You can't stay here, Aims. You can't doing this to yourself."
"I know. You'll come with me?"
"Yeah, I will."
And just like the decision was made. We didn't discuss the row. We didn't exchange apologies. Some things simply don't need to be said when your best friend is telepathic and you have the old world behind you and a frightening new one ahead.