Broken Fairytale

by Nikola Jensen

  “As I knew he would, Zack came into my room with a mug of coffee and sat down on the end of my bed. We caught up on life in general, staying clear of anything to do with our parents, though they were, as per usual, the proverbial pink elephant in the room.”

  By now I’ve picked an actual hole in my jeans and I catch Dr McGrath looking at my hand, taking note of what he sees before looking back up at my face. He reaches for his glass of water on the coffee table and before I realise, I do the same. The offending hand leaves my knee, reaching for my glass, which I had no idea he’d put there for me. I clutch the cold glass with both hands and marvel at the fact that it’s still so cold when the room feels so hot and that it feels as if I’ve already been sitting here for hours. I note that time has barely passed, before I continue.

  “We sat there for hours, or what seemed like hours, before we heard Mum moving about in the house. Zack gave me a cuddle and went to catch up with her as I got ready for the day.” I flinch at that memory thinking if only I’d known what I was getting ready for.

  “Were you doing something special that day?” he asks me in a curious voice.

  “Well, we’re a family of traditions. Dad made it so. Always the family lunch at a restaurant, which despite being an hour away in the car, was a must. We’d sit in silence except when Zack or I was asked a question. No one wanting to say anything that could be misinterpreted into being something it wasn’t and offence being taken.” I look away from my glass of water that strangely has ripples in it. I realise my hands are shaking. I look up at Dr McGrath whose eyes have turned sharp as if he is getting ready for me to freak out, pass out or something. I take a deep breath.

  “When we got back to the house after a long lunch during which my Dad had too much to drink making Mum, who’s a nervous driver, take us home. Everything was still routine as it always is. I was in my room reading until dinner. Time lost in my book world where I feel safe and at home.”

  I look up at Dr McGrath waiting to see if he has a reaction to me living in a fictional world as an escape. His face reveals nothing but concern and encouragement, remaining as it was from the start. I take a big gulp of water as my throat feels too dry and restricted by the words I’ve said and the one’s I know will be leaving my mouth soon.

  “During dinner…that’s when it began…” I falter and know I need to move, I feel like I can’t breathe and the rushing in my ears gets louder as my heart feels like it’s starting to beat its own path out of my chest. I stand up and walk over to the window placing my shaking hands against the glass, resting my hot forehead against the coolness of the window pane.

  “Go on Izobel, it’s okay, you’re safe. Nothing can hurt you in here and I’m with you, you’re not on your own, take deep even breaths…count with me.”

  He starts to take deep even breaths and I mimic them, like a child learning to breathe properly for the first time. My head clears but I remain in position looking out over the busy campus square where students are running around like head-less chickens, either rushing to classes or rushing home.

  “You were having dinner Izobel,” he starts, guiding me back as the memories flood my vision tinged in red and playing out like a dream sequence to a soundtrack of haunted, broken melodies.

  “We were having dinner and Zack asked me about my Uni applications, he was still at college you see and was considering where to go after his finals. I’d taken longer than most people to decide where to apply to and what to study, knowing I wanted to be completely sure, not wanting to waste my time and effort. Also, in my heart, what I really wanted to study was a sore topic of conversation, as my Dad thought it was a waste of time and every chance he got, he would ridicule it.” I smile a bitter smile and look back over my shoulders at him. “I got here though didn’t I? In the end I won that battle.” Involuntarily, a shudder runs through me as I look back out the window, not really seeing anything but the look etched on everyone’s faces when it all began.

  “Isn’t it strange how you can push a bad memory to the back of your mind, lock the door and seal it shut, yet when you need to recall it, only a smell, a feeling or a sensation can spring that door open as if it’s a magic key.” I get lost in the past again, the chills running down my spine like ice cold fingers. I wonder why I can talk about it now, so freely, even though the pain’s immeasurable. I turn around and look at him all confused. “But here with you, I see it all, as if it’s playing out right in front of me. Why is that?”

  “I’m in the belief that you’re ready to confront your memories and resolve your emotions and the guilt that’s eating you up from the inside,” he says with such frankness. He’s right.

  I walk over to the wall opposite the window, which is made up purely of shelves, full of books. I run my fingers across the spines as I walk the length of it. I continue and walk back to the couch, where I sit down and pick up my glass again, taking another sip before I delve into the memory of that night. I feel really strange. Oddly apprehensive, scared yet relieved that I’m finally going to tackle that night. Say the words out loud in front of someone.

  “As we were sitting eating our dinner Zack suddenly jerks and turns to me and excitedly tells me he brought a present home for me from his trip to the south coast.”

  I look at Dr McGrath and whisper, “He forgot…he forgot the rule, he got caught up in his excitement. You see when we were very young, my grandmother bought me a snow globe. It had a fairy in it. The fairy had a sparkling turquoise dress and glittery wings. I think she was attached to a hill with green sparkles for grass. Surrounding this hill were bright coloured flowers floating in water. I am not sure how it was made but when you shook it the water didn’t move but sparkling flakes would fall all around the fairy. Despite her being somehow attached, it would seem as though she was floating in the globe. It was called ‘Fairy tale’,” my voice breaks and I feel the tears threatening so I stop talking as I picture the snow globe Zack bought me.

  I shiver and take some deep breaths as I continue to pick at the hole in my jeans pulling at the threads, exposing my knee, the hole getting bigger. My vision is getting hazy and my pulse is roaring in my ears.

  “Are you okay to continue Izobel?” he asks as he places a no frills tissue box on the table in front of me.

  “Yes...yes, I think so…” I shake my head unsteadily, I can’t stop now, the words are there, waiting to come out.

  “So, Zack suddenly left the table and went to his room. I remember Mum’s expression before she quickly looked down at her plate. She knew…she was scared. Dad straightened his spine looking in angry surprise at Zack’s retreating back. Such a small indiscretion really. A moment of impulse which started a nightmare like a domino effect. When Zack came back with a white plastic bag and sat down he didn’t realise what he’d done but excitedly took out a box and gave it to me. Inside the box was an exact replica of the snow globe my Grandmother had given me.” I look over at Dr McGrath with blurred vision, feeling tears as they begin their trail down my cheek. My emotions overwhelm me.

  “My first one broke you see….the one my grandmother bought me. In a fit of rage Dad picked it up and flung it at the wall to punish me. I can’t to this day remember what I’d done or said, but I remember the terror I felt as Zack and I crouched behind the couch. I’m not sure whether Dad knew what he was throwing, but it was the closest at hand when his temper blew. I think he took his anger out on that instead of me; perhaps a second of clarity that he could really hurt me this time. One minute earlier I had been sitting with it in my hand, only to put it down to have a drink of milk before bed. When he started shouting I ran over to Zack to drag him behind the couch but left my snow globe on the coffee table. The broken pieces were everywhere and he made me clean it up even though he was the one who threw it. I remember cutting my fingers on the glass but the pain in my heart was worse.”

  I lose focus and the room fades, I feel lightheaded and my heart starts to skip beats, I feel them and it’s making my chest hu
rt. I’m openly crying now, grabbing at the tissues on the table.

  I hear Dr McGrath’s voice from far away as I try to re-gain control of my breathing, beating away the black tunnel that is trying to swallow me up. I know he’s exaggerating his breathing trying to get me back.

  “Izobel, do you want to stop for the day?” he asks me again, concern in his voice.

  “I don’t know….no I don’t think I do. I need to tell you….tell someone, I’m scared of going crazy,” I whisper as my throat dries up. Dr McGrath stands up and walks over to the cooler on the floor by his paper strewn desk. He picks up a bottle of water and walks back to me handing me the bottle.

  “Thank you,” I say gratefully as I unscrew the cap and pour it into my empty glass. He sits back down and immediately resumes his position, as if we haven’t had this interruption.

  I start telling my story again. “So, when I saw what Zack had bought me I started crying. I couldn’t help it. My heart burst with both pain and love and we sat there hugging at the table as if it was just us two in the room, lost in a memory. He looked so happy yet scared, I think he wasn’t completely sure how I’d feel about this gift. But he did good, I loved it,” I smile through my tears up at Dr McGrath. I move my arm to pick up the glass of water but my charm bracelet gets caught in the threads I’ve been pulling at and I begin to untangle them. I continue focusing on the trapped charm. Of all my charms to get caught it’s the letter Z, which gives me chills.

  “My Dad left the table abruptly and walked to his office slamming the door behind him. I think we all knew he’d be drinking and stewing in there until he was ready to face us again. It’s what he did. It’s what he still does,” I shrug, defeated, because I realise the pattern of behaviour hasn’t changed since and we still live with it.

  “Mum, Zack and I sat there in silence for a few minutes before she rose and started clearing up the table. We stood too and did the same. I remember gripping my snow globe in one hand not wanting to let it go. But when we’d finished, I had to put my snow globe down on the kitchen table as Mum did something so surprising. I remember it gave me goose bumps at the time. She got hold of both our hands and pulled us into a hug and told us she loved us with tears in her eyes. I think at the time it shocked me because normally when she got scared and apprehensive of Dad’s temper she would retreat to her bedroom.”

  I take a deep breath knowing that we’ve almost reached the nightmare moment I lost the person I loved the most in the world. I search but I can’t reach the words that take me to it. These are the words I long to be able to say, but it petrifies me. What will happen if I say them out loud? I look over at Dr McGrath and ask him as I have to know and I’m not sure I’m ready to tell my final words yet. I need to calm my emotions down. But it’s so bloody hard and I’m scared that I’ll break down and get pulled under.

  “How do you know my Mum?” I ask him. He looks surprised at my sudden question and quickly looks away as if to gain a few seconds to think of an appropriate story as to how.

  “It’s okay, you can tell me you know, I wish she could talk to you too,” I say hopeful because I know she needs to see someone again and I can’t think of anyone safer to see than him.

  He clears his throat as if in discomfort. “Your Mum made an emergency appointment a while back with my practice and I was the only one available to speak to her at the time,” he says with a sigh, looking really uncomfortable, as if he’s already said too much. I feel bad for him because I know it is none of my business, well it is, but that was Mum’s time not mine. I take another sip of water knowing if I don’t stop drinking I’ll have to make a quick exit soon which I surprisingly don’t want as I’m without doubt here until I’ve given him my memory. All of this memory.

  We sit in silence but it’s not an uncomfortable one. I gather my thoughts making sure I have them in the right order, as at one point that night, I lost a whole hour. Hazy images are floating through my mind trying to slot into the right order.

  “It was really late, Zack and I were sitting on the couch, he was watching some police action show and I was reading on my kindle. Mum was sitting knitting in the chair in the corner of the lounge. Dad hadn’t come out of his office since he left dinner so suddenly. We’d heard the clinking of a glass and bottles so we knew he was drinking. Dad usually holds his alcohol well, but when he’s drunk in anger, we know to leave the room,” I pause, as we’ve reached the beginning of the end. I feel so cold I start to shiver and I can’t feel the tips of my fingers, I start to rub them together before placing them underneath my bum to warm them up.

  “It was quite dark in the lounge; the only light was coming from the TV. I always wondered how Mum could knit in such low light, but I suppose her knitting was automatic, she knitted on autopilot as a de-stressor, I’m sure it still has a calming effect on her now, as she sorts out problems in her head. We were just about turn in for the night when Dad came in. He looked so angry, no … furious more like,” my voice is losing its strength and all I can see now is how the TV’s blue flickering played across his face, the shadows of the TV light playing on the walls behind him. I pick up another tissue and sort myself out before taking a deep breath.

  “Dad had a burning cigarette in one hand and my snow globe in the other. He must’ve picked it up from the kitchen and I remember I was cursing myself for leaving it in there. Dad was swaying as he walked over to us. He roughly threw the globe on the table and pinned me with his menacing blood shot eyes. Zack just flew at him. I think he finally lost control of his emotions. He jumped off the couch and pushed Dad away, shouting at him, asking him what the fuck he was doing.” I immediately blush and look at Dr McGrath apologetically when I realise I’ve just sworn in front of him.

  “I’m sorry for swearing….I’ll try not to do that again,” I apologise, feeling awful.

  “Please Izobel, I’m an old man, I’ve heard much worse, just tell me your story as you remember it and use whatever words you need to, please don’t apologise again,” he smiles at me, encouragingly. It suddenly feels really hot in here and my palms begin to sweat so I rub them up and down my jeans as I feel a bead of moisture run down my hair line.

  “My Dad punched Zack….he actually punched him,” I shudder from the memory and the shock I felt…still feel. “He’s never punched any of us before…ever. He would clumsily hit us or slap us, even push us but never punch. Sometimes he would hit us with something or hurt us in other ways but never with a clenched fist. Zack stumbled backwards pulling my Dad with him and they landed on the coffee table knocking off my snow globe. I haven’t seen my snow globe since that night.” I stop talking as I think of why that punch made such an impression on me. When you think of the scars on my back, a punch actually seems rather tame and a more normal form of aggression. Again the tears start and I wipe my face with clammy hands.

  “In the commotion no one noticed Dad’s cigarette until a huge patch of carpet started burning. Our house was a listed property, one of those old houses with the original beams, shag carpet, heavy curtains and visible wooden posts. It didn’t take long…..the flames started licking up the walls as Dad and Zack fought each other, shouting….I remember Mum screaming in the corner of the room, divided by a wall of flames. I sat motionless…I couldn’t move….why didn’t I move?” I look up confused at Dr McGrath, fast streaming tears blurring my vision, my hands shaking as I clench them into fists, unable to stop them. I sit on them again, but this time it’s to keep them still.

  “Izobel, shock of sudden actions which frighten us, affects us all differently, the mechanisms reacting to unforeseen circumstance, is not predictable nor can it always be rationally questioned, or judged by hindsight,” he explains so I understand. I can’t pretend that I do though.

  “But I sat there frozen until I realised that either of them could kill the other or the fire would get us. I yelled….no…I screamed at them to stop, the heat intensifying….and the smell…I’ll never forget the smell once the fire touched Z
ack. His sleeve….his sleeve caught fire,” I brokenly stutter as I stand up and once again walk over to the window. The sun’s left the sky and the heavy grey clouds are making it seem darker and later than it really is. The rain’s started and a sea of umbrellas are hurrying in different directions. My palms are cold as ice. They’re violently shaking so I place them on the radiator under the window sill. Only in England will you find radiators underneath drafty windows I think to myself.

  “Mum ran out of the room, I’m pretty sure she went to call the fire brigade as there was no doubt the fire was out of control. My Dad and brother seemingly unaware until the fire touched Zack. Zack screamed in agony…I can still hear it, I hear it every time I smell fire…I hear it in my dreams….I can hear it now.” I’m openly crying now unable to stop, completely lost in the memory. I can smell the burning and my breaths are ragged as I try to continue.

  “My Dad pushed Zack off him really hard, it was a shove out of the fire. Zack stumbled into me pushing me backwards so I lost my footing as we fell to the floor. Zack landed on top of me.” I look back over my shoulder at Dr McGrath, but I can’t see him for my tears.

  “Why is it I remember every detail as if it happened in slow motion. Why am I remembering all of it in this room with you…remembering it so clearly?” I ask him, crying the words out.

  “You’re ready to remember Izobel. You’re ready to come to terms with what happened, you know you need to, in order to move on with your life.” I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or whether his eyes look as if they’re tinged with sadness and regret.

  “Dad disappeared from the room, I didn’t see him leave but I know when Zack and I sat back up he was gone. The fire had completely taken over now and I remember Zack pulling me up by my hand, frantically shouting for us to get out of there. Suddenly there was a loud noice. I can’t even describe it, almost like a crunching sound. Like the sound the crack of a log in a fire can make. That sudden glowing spark; the noise of flints rubbing together to create it.” I close my eyes and sink to the floor, resting my back against the heater, next to his desk. I bring my knees up to my chest as I hide my face in my hands, making myself as small as I can, as my body tries to suck the heat from the radiator. My memory is full of fire and scorching heat, yet I feel so cold and clammy, like I’ve been caught in the rain currently lashing at the window.