A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing (6 page)

I sneak. I snuck. I listened at the door. I heard them. I pondered you should send him to special school. Those marks aren’t fit for a boy that age. Oh such clucking and glucking. Snob and preen herself. I hear my two are off to the convent. Not a ladder in their tights or a pain in their heart. Such brilliance. Unearthly. I snoot them. Aunt and uncle. Chintz for brains I hiss and think. Listening listening. Yes of course they got accepted so naturally I know a mark or two when I see it. Compete it. I’m having bile thoughts. Great green ones of spite and their sloppedy daughters with tongues too long to keep in their mouths. Should we be that so we can be right? We’re clear awful wrong the way we are. Yes they’re having grinds and trips to the orthodontist. One should give one’s children the best in life. Golf. Give them a taste so they can never live without. Shop at such and no sales. Grow them good and wanty. For bungalows near politicians and the captains of industry. Our mother I think foamy at the edge thinks I need this like a hole in the head. Yabber yabber put the teapot down and take out the biscuit tin. She treads it calm and forth with hmm and yes and is that right? No says aunt as long as they have their degrees. Shop floor management or whatever history. Degrees the thing and tra la la – what are the chances yours’ll do that?

I’m raging. I’m spitting. Come in slinging the door. Oh are they really aunt and uncle how was it they got in the convent when they only got D’s. Just lucky? Didn’t you pay for them in? You shut up don’t be so cheeky. Your aunt’s thoughts are for the best. Is that so? Is it that? Why is she always doing him down? And me. Getting podgy! And you taking it all in. Sucking it up. You cow come here eat your tea and say we’re all these sorts of things. Go to your room. Go right there now. I mean it. Straight away.

I’m flooding the hallway up those stairs to my room see their bags shout fuck off through the floor so they’ll hear, they’ll hear me and know what I mean. You snobs. Bastards. I’ll say the bad words I have. Coming here. What? says you stick your head through the door. No-thing. Nothing for you to know. Go back to the telly and leave me alone.

I’m sitting for ages and sob and whine. Til the back door click. They have gone out. And you went with them I know. In the room I sit alone. Quiet and listening to the groans of the floor and the rattle of water running hot through the pipes. Six o’clock now and.

I hear his footfall. The banisters creak. Definitely his feet not yours. I chew my lip.

Tap on my door. Tap tapping he push it through. Are you here? Are you alright? Thought I’d see if you’re. I’m fine. Well now. What? That’s quite a moment to treat us to and on the first day. I know it. Can I come in? Alright, do. Your aunt’s a bit of a madam gibbet. Hang ‘em always. Hang ‘em high. I laugh at him and his aunt stranger wife. Meaner than true. Why does she? She doesn’t mean to. Doesn’t think it, never has, through well. She has to make a big competition between us and your girls it’s not. I know that but. She’s very fond of you, underneath. Nice way to show it. I’ll have a word about. Sorry. Me too. And breathe in out.

Shouldn’t we be friends? I am your uncle after all. But it’s the first time that we’ve met. No, I’ve seen you before. When? When you were born before we went abroad. I don’t remember. You were only small. Do you like England? I do. What do you do? All sorts of things and do you do? I go to school. I knew that. Yes you did. You’ve quite a lip. Someone has to. Why? Just the way things are… I see. I’m sorry to have asked. I’m sorry I shouted. I know she’s your wife but I don’t like her. Oh she’s. Not that bad. So you said. You’re a funny girl. Why’s that then? Cheeky madam. Maybe I am. Oh you are. Well that’s me. Good for you can I ask you. What? Do you climb out that window to meet your boyfriends at night? Shy me and do not say for no would be diminishment of some kind in his eyes. Smiling’s best when. I do that. Watch him. Smiling eyes. And he just smiled at me.

We went to school. We went on that bus. In the cold lunch break they are kicking football on the muck pitch. You run. Run. Run. That bad eye I know cannot keep up with a ball nor does it see one of them and his doing you for the crowd. Behind your back. For their laughter is a mighty thing to invoke. Your little limp. Sometimes the way you shake your head. It’s brilliant that the worst one on the whole field doesn’t know it. See him do it. For their roaring. For their great lads fun. He does your voice like a thick tongue. Pass it here lads after you say it. They kick it to keep you to and fro. No one’s playing. Only you now but you don’t know. Round of laughing. I see you stop then. Something twigging within. Look around. To the clumps of them doubled-up in two quaking squealing. Happy pigs getting fed on you. The way your hand hangs down or you stumble on a ruck. He smears a muck bit down his forehead for the scar that you’ve got. Jesus fucking spastic Christ. And you were saying, what is it? Hey lads what’s going on? The more they look the more they laugh. You now getting all het up. Can smell the joke descend on you. How did you get your scar again? A knife. A knife? Oh was it? Very funny. I heard you got your brain cut up. Did not. That you’re brain-damaged. I am not. You’re a brain-damaged liar. No listen you said. Handicapped. Ugh they’re sticking tongues in their bottom lips. You stumbling towards them. Not thinking. Thinking how to stop them say at this. In the mud you stumbled over. Caught yourself. Stood back up straight. Listen. Listen lads. All they say is uuuuuggggh. I could kill them for this or you. I could roar. I could cry. I do not. Anything at all. Just stand feel it worse and worse. Thinking of the scald and full of shame. Was it yours or mine? Think please just leave the pitch. Please just walk away. It won’t be worse than standing there. But you’re still trying. Fumbling red for words. He’s doing you even as you speak now, to your face. My throat. Is blank. Is sown up. You shouting what’s so funny? I nearly died. I still could. It’s still in me. It isn’t funny and then, for pity, say why are you laughing about me? They are and laughing more. Your anger permits. Gives goals and goals. Your face red thick. Bulged indignated. The bullish face fat with humiliation. Handicap. Handicap. One from the back gets the ball. Kicks and aims. It strikes your face. Bleared with mud. And knock you over. Laughter. Laughter. Never ever will it stop. Not ever. Not ever again. The bell rings and release for you from that place. I close my eyes and wish this day had never been or you or me. I walk back and will not help. Pretend I didn’t even see. Did you see me? Look at them hear them talking just a bit embarrassed about it. About what they done. And I will not think of your feelings anymore. For it’s a bit too much to know.

I ride the bus. It’s condensation. Smother. You sitting just behind. And quiet. You don’t say a word. I’m turned from it. That did not happen to you or me today. I think. I will not think of you. I think. Uncle. What would you think of me sit thinking of you? My head at work and turned away from everything happening here. Their cigarette smoke roaming up from the back for you. For a way to spit in your eye I think splitly. It gives me. No. Turn from that and turn away. The eye go in. What? How much secret pleasure to stare at uncle in my mind’s eye. Think of him come across the room. I have him. Scrutinize. I am smiling. It is from. What are you laughing at? as we climb off the slime bus. At nothing why what’s wrong with you? I let you walk ahead. I don’t know. Let you just. What’s in me? There’s something twist. Must move or shake him. Uncle. Think. I must give him some surprise.

And in the kitchen I see him there. You go drag foot. His eyes go with. I go ignore him. Stuffed throat as I walked past and could not think of how to shock. Hi aunt mammy. Their hellos to me. I going. Keep going. Not my single word for him. Not for him a lift of my eyes. I keep them locked. I’m going to my like a light went off I am going up the stairs.

Later it ran up me. Legs stomach knees chest up head. Like smoke in my lungs to be coughed out. I’d throw up excitement. What is it? Like a nosebleed. Like a freezing pain. I felt me not me. Turning to the sun. Feel the roast of it. Like sunburn. Like a hot sunstroke. Like globs dropping in. Through my hair. Spat skin with it. Blank my eyes the dazzle. Huge shatter. Me who is just new. Fallen out of the sky. What. Is lust it? That’s it. The first splinter. I. Give in scared. If I would. Stop. Him. Oh God. Is a mortal mortal sin.

Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil amen.

I sit bow-legged Encyclopaedia Britannica on my knee. Sex Sexism. Sexuality. All the words. I know it’s something. I’ve looked in there before. Since I was ten and since I knew what men and women sometimes do but I am something else. I am. Going to the bad. To the somewhere new.

Prayer time. She called and I went down and we’re all sitting there. He is sitting on the chair. You face still bit red your head hang down. Your head. I don’t want that. I see him. Smile at me. A reading from the gospel of St Luke. My own face. I flower a tinct of what I’ve read alone upstairs. It course me. Whipping blood. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly. Amen. Now there’s a lesson for all of us isn’t there? The aunt’s a little hoarse. Now a decade of the rosary. Shall I give it out? Do. I feel the more my inside lie. If I could just be pure. What would I do? His shoe. His shoe is there beside me. Don’t. I want to look. I struggle want him watching. I will ignore I will ignore. Him. If thou oh lord will open my lips my tongue shall announce thy praise. Incline to my aid oh God. May the Lord make haste to help us.

Two stairs. Three at a time if I can. Leave it. Sitting room. Watching there the telly all of them. I’ll on my own. Be quiet insides. Don’t be fucked-up. I will wait. This out. He’ll be gone. Quite soon. I’ll be pure to then. I will. It’ll be. It’ll be. Fine.

Are you hiding from me? You haven’t said a word in days. We’re going in two. Are you still upset about your aunt? No. Not about that. What’s wrong? Nothing. I start to cry. Don’t. There now. Don’t. There now. It’s been a bad old year for you all I know. A lot’s gone on. It’ll improve though. You know you can think of me in a father way. I’m only at the end of a phone and we’d love you to come and stay. See your cousins. They’re just about your age. Where you going? Come back. Hey! Come back here please.

Oh sacred heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee.

On the last night before the last day I’m over the hill. I see pastures open up for running free from him. They’ll be gone in one more day. I’ll dig it out. Intemperate. Something this. What? Intemperate something wrong. To look at your family and think of something. What? Something else than just hellos. That’s dirty. Something night.

Sit down here. They’re gone to the shops and someone’s mother who gets messages in photographs. The Virgin Mary hiding round the back at Knock or Maria Gorretti saying cheese visiting Lourdes he laughs. Blasphemy but I’m not one for the fires of hell are you? I don’t know I wouldn’t want to find out. Hedging your bets then, a very wise choice. Blood swirl and swirl. My thud cheeks up. You’re not talking he says. Not saying much. What did I do? Nothing. Did I offend you? No. Quick with your no’s aren’t you just a bit quick? I think you’re too shy of me for comfort’s sake. Sorry I. He says I see you. What? I see you very clear. I see you. I do. So come here. And I can’t help wondering if you see me? You see, I think you do.

I’m invaded in my ears by pulse is going round and round. Pumping in my fingers. His touch my face with flat of hand. You are. Oh you’re a strange one. A quick one too for all your age so don’t think I think I’m not a fool for this. Little madam youth and vigour. Little madam knowitall but I see you. For. What. You. Are. And do you know there’s no one home?

I am sweating here. Ready to give and not. Not at all ready for what I think I’ll get. But I give it. I’ll give it. Take this cup. I’ll drink I’ll not. Thy will be done. Let him kiss me. If he wants. I. Brink it. But when he reaches I turn away under his thumb. I want to kiss you. He. Turns my face to him. Dissolving fright under his hands. He put his mouth on mine. This is kiss to me. Then. Wave of. What. Lost. And he says. That was nice but don’t you want to kiss me back? I. I’d like you to open your mouth a bit. I. Do. He kisses me. The deep again. With lips and teeth and with his tongue. Touch me soft there I did not know would be. Fill my mouth with it. He says. Open your eyes. Is this the first kiss you’ve had at all? Flexed and on a wire I’m. He knows something I don’t. About me. That I am naïve. Do that. Don’t do that to me. I. Feel I might begin to cry or sink or fall. I want. I want. I cannot say. I’m almost. Ready or not. Got to leave. Don’t be angry with me he says. I’m very very honoured. He touch my face. Kiss me again. And I touch his cheek. I touch his chin. I know now. What it feels. That mouth. His stubble. Grating. Think of cheese and not my skin blooming rashes. But it does red and pink alive and specially for me. The burn of it. That smell. That deep in his neck like warm and rich and far away. Like memory I might have had. Will make from this. Have made. And sound of kisses I did not know. Lapping. Thinking me of being at the shore and breaths like breeze going over my head. He tasted. I don’t know of coffee. Right. He tasted like dinner. Like something deep.

But I am waiting for. Something with his mouth on mine. Something touching down below. There’s not. He not. I am what I should do? My hand. On his trousers. I feel. What. Stroke. He breathed out. No! Not for me he says. I stop that. I am not. I go red. I’m not that man. And I’m ashamed to have. What he did not want. But his hand on my chest no my breast. He says that’s enough. For me? I am scalded. For me he says and too much. I am. I. Stand up peel the skirt from off my legs. The back of is stuck there. I’m clammy sweat. And legs are wrong. Excused and dismissed. What I say is You fuck off.