by Katy Wix
Well, that’s quite difficult to write, so I haven’t done that, but what I have done is to write a list of all the stories that are too inappropriate to talk about, so – you won’t be hearing the following:
– you won’t hear about the time we snorted coke and went flat-hunting.
– you won’t hear about the time we hid someone’s EpiPen, as a joke.
– you won’t hear about the time we got off with each other in return for free drinks.
None of that stuff.
And your new husband is sat there – look at him – grinning away like the cat that got the cream, and rightly so. As you know – I didn’t like him at first, but now – I get it. Having spent a bit more time with him, I get it now … kinda. It certainly proves that love is blind, I mean, well, no – I just mean it’s about making choices that make you happy isn’t it, not anyone else, which is great.
And the bride’s mother looks stunning today as well. It’s actually really sexist that – the way wedding speeches always go on about how the women in the room look. It sort of undermines the compliment anyway doesn’t it – when you feel obliged to pay one. Anyway, sorry – the bride’s mother really does look lovely. (To bride) We were talking earlier actually (when we were waiting for you to put your false hairpiece in) and your Mum was telling me what a difficult birth it was when she had you and about the post-natal depression and everything, and I’m just really, because sometimes – you can pass the depressive gene on in a family can’t you – but I’m just really glad that that doesn’t seem to be the case, so that’s good and here’s to any future children being free from mental health issues too!
My own mother smoked all throughout my birth – I’m kidding of course! Just trying to get the funnies in …
(There is a slight disturbance at the back of the room.)
I think there’s a dog?
Is that a dog?
How did a dog get in here?
Shall I carry on?
I feel like I’m competing with the dog, now … sorry …
THE PAUSE
No, the reason I’m quiet is because you’ve been talking for the whole, entire time. Wow! Listen to that!? What is that strange and unfamiliar sound? Could it be … is it … it’s the sound of MY voice! My God, so that’s what I sound like. I can’t believe it – can I speak now? May I say something? Is it really my turn? Thank you! Well, how wonderful that it’s finally my turn! I’m just going to get this done really quickly, don’t worry. It will be your turn to speak again in a second I promise. We can go straight back to talking about you any minute. I’m literally talking as fast as I can for you, how’s that? To your credit, I’m surprised that you even noticed that I hadn’t spoken in quite a while, because, and let’s be honest here, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been listening to your shitty monologues for several years now and not once have you thanked me, acknowledged that I’m a good listener or even asked me questions in return when the shitty monologue comes to an end. Have you ever even stopped to wonder what I’m getting out of this? Don’t tell me you’re stupid or arrogant enough to think I’m even listening to you anyway. The beginning of one of your monologues is really a signal to me that I can switch off for a few minutes to have a think about what colour I might paint the bedroom or practise some meditation techniques, but I’m certainly not listening. I don’t even bother to say anything anymore if you use a word in the wrong context or mispronounce something, which you frequently do. There was one occasion, when you had pen on your face and I just said nothing. I think it’s time to end the charade, don’t you? And the weird irony is, despite all the speeches, I’m not sure I really know you. If I was to crack open your skull right now then all this pink, fluffy irrelevant stuff would just fall out. You want to gossip or judge or talk about cupcakes, then whenever we get even a millimetre close to talking about something that is actually anything resembling a feeling, emotion or truth, you just say ‘Keep it light!’, ‘Keep it light!’ That’s your little mantra. Keep. It. Light.
So, here’s the deal: I’ll swap you a mouth for an ear.
I often hear the real anger in your voice, but you won’t admit it. I know that you hate your job, you hate where you live, you clearly hate your family but all you ever say is ‘Keep it light’.
Well, two pretend people cannot have a real relationship. So we shouldn’t really mourn this. We have both been fake and fictitious. You created a character that was really fun and palatable, and I created the character of someone that wanted to please people and be a good Samaritan but none of it is that real.
The pretend me and the pretend you have two choices: either we start again or we just end it now because it’s a show. We either buy more tickets or we storm out of the auditorium and rip the tickets up. It’s up to you, what do you say??
THE WALK
Oh look – a hedgehog with its heart hanging out.
Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.
(She stares at it for a moment.)
(Looking around.)
It hasn’t changed much, this place, well, apart from where it’s changed massively. So long since I’ve been here, I was just a little bud myself, just a kid. Maybe ten. It’s funny how when you’re a child, you’re never entirely ten – you’re nearly always ‘almost eleven’ aren’t you?
The well! The well is still the same, such a familiar object, I suppose but, I don’t know – I never liked it – always used to give me the willies – and I never looked in it – like the old toothbrush mug in my gran’s house, never look in it! There was bound to be something old and scary at the bottom!
We could drop a stone down I suppose, you know – to hear how deep it is. I don’t think my arms want to though – look: my fists are clenched! Why is it so scary? Looks different today – like it’s yawning.
There was this lady … we used to laugh about her … she was always here. Sue Clinch. She was always in the park. And if you didn’t see her, then you would at least hear her – shouting at her dog from behind a hedgerow. She was quite terrifying, and remarkable in that she’s the only person I’ve ever met who sounded like she was snoring when she spoke! She had a little dog on wheels, because its two back legs had given up, or conked out or whatever. You would see her, dragging this thing around the place on a little dog trolley. She was probably about fifty but could have easily passed for a forty-year-old that had just led a really hard life. She smelt of gone-off incense and her hair was, well, just the opposite of what sleek is. One thing she did have going for her was a really memorable jumper that she always wore on her walks. It had the word ‘Stockholm’ embroidered in bright colours across the front. She loved to tell anyone who would listen, that she had actually bought it in Mombasa and ‘wasn’t it a topsy-turvy world?’ Was she aware that people didn’t like her? I’m not sure, looking back, I’m not sure. The dog was alive but you would hardly know it. Even though the back end was moribund there was at least a flicker of life at the front – like the way sometimes a torch would still light up for a few seconds even though you knew the batteries were dead. The dog was so vulnerable; it sort of made me feel sick. Reminded me of the time that I accidently popped a tadpole thinking it a berry – I took to my futon bed for a week with grief. Nature can be very unjust can’t it?
THREE
No, you go! Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine! No, don’t worry – you go! Honestly. You go! I’ll be absolutely fine.
I was going to stay in anyway and um … paint a table grey. So, yeah. I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while now so don’t worry. Go! Really. Oprah tweeted a picture of herself a few weeks ago painting her table grey and I just connected with the whole grey table vibe immediately. So, don’t give it another moment’s thought. Go! Go.
Even though it was my idea to go in the first place, that’s fine.
Yeah, you have to sand it down a bit first of course, so plenty for me to be getting on with, prep and so on, in fact – stay out! Because there’s
lots for me to do, so stay out late if you want.
Watch out for that great big puddle just outside – it’s been raining quite heavily today – you probably didn’t notice – too busy bonding. Too busy staring into each other’s eyes. I’m joking of course. Or am I? You know, I’m not one hundred percent sure myself. I think I feel annoyed – d’you know what I mean? No, I definitely am annoyed. Yeah, I sort of feel annoyed, certainly. Mainly because it was my idea originally to go in the first place. But, if there are only two tickets then, well, yes of course you two should go. I mean you’ve clearly bonded.
And no one has even noticed my hair! Changed the old mane today, that’s right! Not a peep out of you two!
Low-lights, you know – been saving up for a while. But you two go. I’ll just be grand grand grand! Looking forward to hearing about it! It’s a good job I love this wallpaper so much because I’M STUCK WITH IT ALL NIGHT.
So, the headline is: you kids go have fun and I’ll stay and hold the fort. It’s going to be happy hour here the moment you leave, trust me.
I stayed in last night on my own too, so you know, but that’s fine. It’s a good job I get on so well with myself, is all I can say. But don’t blame me if you come home and I’m slumped over a freshly painted grey table with a cup of bleach in my hand – I’m joking – I wouldn’t want to ruin the cup. I’d drink straight from the bottle! But, you go, that’s fine. I’ll be ok. Maybe I’ll paint the walls grey as well and the cups! And the windows and all the tea towels. When you return from your little sojourn everything will be grey … which is really just a metaphor for my life!
TIME FLIES
No, I’m sorry, but I cannot accept this Christmas jumper from you!
I know you spent a long time choosing it and I’m not questioning your gift-giving abilities – you are ever so good at giving gifts apart from the ashtray you got me when I was twelve. It’s not really about the gift. Look, this is my clumsy attempt at a protest, yes a protest. You know I’ve started wearing a mouthguard don’t you? At night, for my teeth – to stop them from bumping into each other. It’s your fault, hahaha, I’m joking, except the truth isn’t actually a million miles away from the joke I just made about it being your fault.
There’s no neat way to say this, so prepare yourself for mess! You suffocate me!
I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel – strangled. I’m not saying this is totally unique to you. This is what mothers do, I mean, I’m surprised that WHSmiths don’t have a ‘Happy Smother’s Day’ range for Smothering Sundays, I really am. But I seriously suspect that you are better at it than most.
I suppose I owe you some examples. Do you recall the time when one too many hearty swings of your golf club had resulted in a busted watch? When I offered to buy you a new one for your birthday, just last week, you agreed that that would be lovely but then you followed me to the shops like the secret police because you didn’t trust me to get the right one, then you insisted that I get a ride home with you, but on the way home you were extremely critical: you have never liked any of my friends or any of my ‘choices’ as it were and my therapist says that I have to talk to you about our relationship and how things should change. And living here, with you, the un-ending interrogation. Those fake flowers everywhere that never grow, have started to feel like the insignia of your dictatorship. I have to do some things for myself … or this bungalow will be my coffin.
Oh my god – that’s me! I’m one of your fake plants! I’m not growing. I’m like a Pinocchio, little rubbery girl … with no air or water.
What on God’s green earth am I going to do!?
WHAT IS LEFT
(She is upset.)
Great big handfuls of back, is what I see.
A sad body. Fixed my eyes right on it. I wanted to look away. Feel so stupid, because I was so sure that I was more concrete than that. Well, I haven’t seen myself on film in a long time. Didn’t look like me. It was only about four long seconds. Silly Facebook video posted by one of the girls.
I know you’re always telling me about what your brother went through in Afghanistan and how I should keep things in perspective, but fuck me, I looked bad. It wasn’t pretty. They say the camera adds ten pounds, but I think that’s only the really cheap cameras, I don’t know, I just always thought the cheaper the camera is, the worse you look, so I should take some comfort from that.
Everyone’s singing Happy Birthday and then I get up to put my pressie on the table and I’m ALL BACK, it’s like a bank of flesh, a whole pink shrine to greed …
Like a living, breathing human cake museum, just blobbing to the music, full of cheap wine …
No wonder actors are all obsessed with how they look. It forces you to scrutinise yourself like never before. My hair was so … wide and I don’t know how my neck holds my head up – it’s so big like a melon. I don’t think we’re designed to see ourselves from the back, I really don’t. I was like a small village.
I just hadn’t expected to see it, you know what I mean, and it just cut the day in half – I was having a really good day and then I saw that video and the day was ruined. The video was a precipice moment. Shouldn’t have watched it.
My fridge and I have a complicated relationship. Fridge and I are having an affair. I see it when I’m feeling lonely or like crap or bored but I know it will never give me what I want. Fridge is always up for it and doesn’t seem to want it to end so I can see it whenever I like. The longer I spend there, my face bathed in fridge’s soothing light, the more involved I become. I get hungrier and hungrier.
Maybe I’ll get a big hard hammer and bring it down on my fridge in the middle of the night. This is just what I needed, wasn’t it, to motivate me into change, and all the experts say that you only have to make small lifestyle changes every day to see progress … this was just the motivation I needed …
Except – well, except … it’s just that …
Well, when has shame and self-loathing ever ever helped me or encouraged me to take action about anything ever!? It won’t help me now. If I’m going to get healthier, if I’m going to call it off with Fridge, well, then, I can’t be shamed into it.
The other day, I accidentally caught sight of my full nakedness in the bathroom mirror and, for a few moments, I thought I looked magnificent, but then it also made me jump a bit because I thought my pubes were a spider.
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