Twenty Three
Alex Scarlett Mullen
Her shoulders are white and thick like the skin on the top of old milk. She wheezes;
they move. They carry a romantic pattern of light pink scars like so many parts of her
body, apricot orange shiny bruises on her knees, perfected by the sun when she
laughs and her legs jerk upwards. The question mark of her nose twitches up and
down. Small hands. Small feet. I can see her tiny movements through the shadows
of my fingers when I'm pretending not to look.
She is too small for herself. Her body shudders under the weight of her personality
and when she laughs, she pushes her hair away from her face and it is just like:
everything is okay, everything will be fine, everything will be fine.
Last Thursday she was walking towards a door that I was opening but she was
looking at her feet and didn’t see me through the glass pane. I broke her hand.
I felt the paperwork I was carrying explode into piles on the floor and saw her fingers
screaming as they crumpled purple and numb next to the inward curve of her
stomach. She gasped and her eyes creased as she curled over herself. I grabbed
her by the shoulders and she was so small and white and I said I’m so sorry, I’m so
sorry, oh my God, Taylor, are you okay, and she wheezed and said don’t be stupid, it
was my fault, it happens all the time. Except she didn’t really say it, the words just
sort of happened between us, propelled by short quick breaths rather than a voice. I
said I am so, so sorry, and she exhaled swiftly and a fleck of spit landed on my shoe,
and we pretended not to notice. She said, I like your shoes, are they new? I said no,
they’re old but I haven’t worn them in a while because I decided they sort of make
me look like a self entitled wannabe young entrepreneur. And she said yes, actually,
now you mention it, they do. They do that.
Her voice felt hollow as I held her. I said I am so sorry. Are you okay? She said I’m
fine, I think it’s a bit like when you stub your toe and for the first few seconds it’s like,
what is this new brand of hell, why is this happening to me, but then it goes away
and it’s actually quite a nice numb feeling.
And she uncurled her fist and we both looked at it. And I said I don’t think it’s like
when you stub your toe. And she said me neither. I said, I think it’s more like when
you break your hand.
I drove her to the hospital and she absent-mindedly sang along to a One Direction
song on the radio. I really wanted to say something humorous about the fact that she
was singing a One Direction song but I didn’t, I didn’t say anything, I just stored it in
my head to bring up later because I knew it would be funnier that way and she
stretched her legs out releasing a noise of discomfort from her lips which she sucked
while her good hand tentatively hugged the broken one. Then she coughed whilst
lighting up a cigarette, without asking if she could smoke which she always fucking
does in my car, and she wheezed as the smoke fell out of her mouth clumsily then
she coughed again and I thought I love you. I love you so much I can’t think, then
she said turn this crap off! and pulled the detachable stereo from its slot. We drove
the rest of the way in silence.
When we were waiting for her to be called into the doctor’s office I bought her two
bars of chocolate from the vending machine and she ate the first one in about forty
seconds then she glared at the second one as she pushed it around with her long
fingers then started begrudgingly undressing it and the nurse came out and said
Taylor Powell? And she got out of her seat and threw the chocolate on my lap and
touched the back of my head with her good hand and walked away.
The waiting room smelled of boiled sweets and board games and a small child with
eczema was pushing a broken train repeatedly into his mother's legs. I looked at the
map of red and white on his unassuming young skin and tapped out a rhythm with
the chocolate bar on my knee. The child coughed and wheezed. He looked at me
and stared. I stared right back.
And I started thinking about Taylor. And I started thinking about all the other times
she had broken something. And I counted. And we have been to the emergency
room twenty three times.
After she had her hand bandaged up I drove us to the pub and watched her drink a
fruit cider and she said you know, I’ve counted, and we have been to the emergency
room twenty times.
I put a cigarette in my mouth and then remembered you can’t smoke inside even
though I didn’t smoke when you were allowed to smoke inside so I took it out again
and said, I think it’s more than that. And she said really? And I said yeah because I
think you’re forgetting a couple of the times when you were really drunk and I took
you there. Like the time you accidently sprayed perfume in your eye. Or when you
tried to pierce your own ear.
The pink bow and arrow of her mouth stretched into a smile, the teeth slightly parted,
she said oh yeah, and she laughed, and she said that was so funny. When was that
again?
And I said my birthday. Remember we were in my kitchen and you said do you dare
me to pierce my own ear? And Max was egging you on, and I was trying to stop you,
but you did it anyway, and it bled an unnatural amount and then you fainted?
And she said, oh yeah, that was so funny. I think. I can’t remember properly, I was
so drunk.
I said yeah, then I drove you to the hospital and we were there for three hours?
And then her phone vibrated on the table and she stopped listening to me and
started reading a text instead. And her eyes flickered in my direction and she said oh
yeah, that was so funny.
I went outside for a cigarette and she said I’ll be there in a second, and while I was
smoking I saw Max walking towards me and he grinned and waved and he was
wearing a grey suit with white pinstripes and I waved back and accidentally
swallowed some smoke and it tasted like petrol and I coughed. Max came and stood
a bit too close to me and said, hey buddy, another broken bone? And I looked at him
and said yeah, number twenty three. His eyebrows moved upwards as he smirked at
me. His hair was freshly cut. She just in there? He asked. I said yeah. I said you look
smart by the way, what’s the occasion?
He said, interview for a promotion at work. I don’t know if I’ll get it, I couldn’t stop
sweating. I laughed. He said seriously, I smell disgusting right now. Don’t come any
closer; you’ll die from inhaling my fumes. Then we both laughed. We laughed and
laughed and I thought about how easy it would be to knee him in the crotch and
watch him whimper on the pavement, the straight lines of his suit curving into frowns
inside the creases of his legs.
He had stopped looking at me, his eyes moving through the window to look at
Taylor. He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. See you in there, he said. I better
go attend to the invalid. He winked.
Then he went inside and I watched him kiss his girlfriend as her paper thin arms
rested on his tall shoulders and the quiet curve of her small stomach ran like a river
through his angular hands. He kissed her broken hand while she pretended it didn't
hurt and touched his face and I could see him joking about his body odour and she
giggled and played with the top buttons of his shirt and I wanted to walk backwards
into the oncoming traffic or stab myself in the eye with my lit cigarette. But I just
threw it on the floor and went inside and ordered a pint of lager and sat down with
them, thinking about everything that was wrong with my personality and everything
that was right with his. He made me talk about work and I could feel the warmth of
Taylor's leg next to mine as I told him about my new colleague who hums Ride of
The Valkyries when he's nervous, which is all the time, and about the new coffee
machine, and he nodded and made the right noises and Taylor stopped listening and
started blowing bubbles through her straw into the pink liquid.
After a few more empty conversations Max knocked back the last few golden
bubbles of his drink, turned to Taylor and said, we better head off, babe. And I
thought I might say, Max! I told you not to call me that in front of Taylor! But then I
couldn't remember if I'd already told that joke before so I just opened my mouth, let
out a croak and then closed it again, but I don't think they saw.
Can we get take away pizza? Please? She begged him as he helped her calamitous
arms into the sleeves of her jacket. Hmm, he replied, maybe if we go for a run
afterwards. Then he squeezed her hip and I felt a lump rise in my throat and started
pretending to text someone on my phone.
You drove here, didn't you, buddy? Max asked me. Yeah, I replied. I'm parked on the
hill. Me too, he said, and we all walked away from the pub together, and I watched
the bumps of their silhouettes entangle on the pavement as I tried not to step on the
cracks. Max was whispering something in Taylor's ear and she was laughing her
quick raspy laugh and then they stopped walking and Max opened the door of his
car. It's been a pleasure, he said, as he turned to me. I'll see you next time she
breaks something. He grinned and I laughed. That'll be tomorrow then, I replied.
They both laughed, and when she said goodbye to me she squeezed my waist with
one hand and I could feel the notes of her perfume dancing down my throat and I
wanted to be sick. She said, see you tomorrow. I said see you tomorrow, you
useless clumsy arsehole. And they both laughed again and got into his car and
drove away. I watched them disappear then walked further down the hill to my own
car. I was unlocking it thinking about the gaps in her laughter when she needs to
take a breath and thinking about the sound of her high pitched tuneless singing voice
and thinking about their fingers linking to make a bridge across their hands and
thinking about her playing with his shirt buttons. I got inside and started thinking
about how care free and self assured Max was as I started the engine. I thought
about how easily his words rolled off his tongue as if he hadn't even thought about
which order to put them in, and I was about to drive away when I realised I hadn't
shut the car door. I leaned forward and thought about the fact I always have to think
twice about my jokes before I say them and I know my eyes flicker sporadically
upwards while I do this and his are always fixed in a smile. I thought about her
clumsy limbs and all those trips to the emergency room, and then I heard a hollow
crack as I slammed the car door shut on my hand.
© Alex Scarlett Mullen, 2013