Page 31

25

Everything Has Been Done For You Marjorie stood at the window. The room was full of noise, a violent banging, raging away, fists against walls. Marjorie made no sound. Passively, she went out of the back door and into the garden. It was cold, the wind forcing her to rub her hands together. The sheets were dry. She took them down, folding them with the necessary concentration. Walking back towards the house she thought of her car, where, she now remembered, she had left the chequebook. Swearing under her breath, she put the sheets down in the kitchen. Her steps hastened as she made her way through the house. The chequebook wasn’t the only thing. Her list was in there too: Call Diane about dinner New Year’s Day Take Geoff’s suit to the dry cleaners Make sure Dad has paid his bills She balled the paper up in her hand. The clock on the dashboard said that Geoff would be home in an hour. Hopefully he would bring a good film home for the evening, something light she would enjoy. Back in the house she threw the list away, the sound of the bin lid clapping shut after it making a satisfying end. She put the chequebook down in the living room by her son’s school photo, where it wouldn’t be missed. The banging had stopped but now it started again, harder, as though stoked by some fresh outrage, new energy audibly thrown into the pummelling. Marjorie could see the door under the stairs shaking, but the padlock held its ground. The noise grew even louder: the hammering was joined by a momentarily deep and strong human cry that soon dipped, broke and whimpered. The punches against the door became slaps. She wondered how long it had been. Long enough. She undid the padlock and pulled the door open, her father pouring out from behind it, panting and struggling even to stay on all fours. Marjorie was unimpressed. “Was that long enough for you?” She said. “Yes. Long enough. Please.” She nodded. “You’ll remember now?” “I will. I will remember. I do remember.” “Always write down the important things. Write them down and cross them off when they’re done. You taught me that and I do it every day.” She paused. “And now here we are.” She looked at her watch. “I need to go.” Her father nodded, composed himself, and slowly stood. He looked ridiculous, Marjorie thought, stood there in his vest and underpants. She felt embarrassed for him. She stepped across the living room and gestured to his clothes, piled up on the sofa. “Go on,” she said. “Everything has been done for you.” She looked away as he dressed, taking the car keys from her pocket and tapping them against her leg. Her eyes looked through the window to the car outside, impatient to get away.

Profile for Depth3D, Inc.

BWOWP_WHITE01  

Black Words On White Paper is a unique literary journal, publishing poems and flash fiction that fit onto a single page. This is the premier...

BWOWP_WHITE01  

Black Words On White Paper is a unique literary journal, publishing poems and flash fiction that fit onto a single page. This is the premier...

Profile for bwowp
Advertisement