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Authors: Eimear McBride

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Coming of Age, #Family Life

A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing (11 page)

BOOK: A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing
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The sharp light. Picking at my eyes. Needle shafts of. What have I begun or ended? What I’ve done. Sex as. Go to mass. Confession. And I thought I would not this again, is it the same as? Now I step. Pebble under toe. Think about. Kick. Not again. No. Stop. What’s. See it spin. Look around. What if. I could. I could make. A whole other world a whole civilisation in this this city that is not home? The heresy of it. But I can. And I can choose this. Shafts of sun. Life that is this. And I can. Laugh at it because the world goes on. And no one cares. And no one’s falling into hell. I can do. Puke the whole lot up. Wash my body on or off and think I’ll be some new a disgrace. Slap in this alley with no doubt rats I am leaving. Epiphany. I am leaving home. I’ve picked up and left. Fresh. I’m already gone.

 

 

3

 

 

 

In the new world I am do this every single time I can. Don’t take them to my own digs for my landlady I’m not having that going on in here. Instead become myself in rooms of cold familiar, for to me they are the same. Blankets in the window. Mattress on the floor. Same as last night same as weeks and weeks ago. No just leave the hall light on and take my trousers down.

Crumbs on the carpets and insects bite my back I don’t care for. Nicer is not what I am after. Fuck me softly fuck me quick is all the same once done to me. And washing in their rusted baths and flushing brown with limescale loos amid the digs of four a.m. before I put my knickers on. Say stay the night but I am gone. Down back stairs fag glued lip sore on and wait for, get the night bus home.

We’re in this. She and me together. Doing all the things we could to make us mad to make a tale. Dancing up upon the tables. Unbuttoning our tops. Throw our knickers in the air. Get out of this pub. Don’t have your sort round here. Fuck you. Suck you. Ha ha ha. Chucked pub to another. As though we care for we are we are Boo!

And tell me what you did? Did you do him this way that I. That’s rank. Disgusting. You dirty slut. We drink to that we’ll pour it down our gullets and go hunting for men.

Win the day and scrawling all the things I write on cigarette boxes in my head or in my hand. And flicks of it and stubs of pen with just about the ink run out. We’re going madly she and me and all this time and I can be. Can do this if I like and if I want and no one’s telling tales at home. I love the. Something of it all. Feeling ruined. Fucking. Off. I’m ready. Ready ready. To be this other one. To fill out the corners of this person who doesn’t sit in photo’s on the mantel next to you.

At Christmas. I come home. Down train forlorning what’s going on. All the things that I will miss going back to the ground. Stickly conscience. But I won’t. For I’m not doing that anymore. But. It’s something. Peeling on the off the mask. Which? I don’t know. Sorry. Which way round. So she’ll see me. You will see me soon enough. But you won’t know. I am very sure of that. I know I smell like cigarettes. That’s one thing. And a rest?

Hello. Hello. How are you love? And how are you? You alright? Was that. Train journey. Tired now. And how are you? Long time no see. It’s good you can. That’s all my bags. Thanks for that. Yes I dyed it. I don’t know I like it something new. Good to keep me on my toes. You didn’t recognise me. Your own girl. I haven’t let it get that long. It needs a clip you’re right I do. God it’s raining. Yes. Go in. Don’t stand in it. Did you park oh over there I see it. And what have you been up to since I? What. Not. Does that mean. Sitting at home on your arse sorry on your B.U.M. Ah don’t worry I’m only messing. Are you at the shop? The still. The same? Still the. Oh right. Up a floor. I. Yes. That is something. Yes. Just pop it in the boot. Thanks. Right and. Hmmm. And. All the way home.

Those mash potatoes I like. At home with mince meat and peas. Burned. I like those the most. It catch me in the throat choke good. You’re so sullen I say what’s up with you? The computer game’s stuck in the tape thing and I can’t play again until it’s out. It’s boring God how can you play that? Stuff. Numbs your brain. Can’t help it. Just like it. I’ll show you later what it does. No. None of that she says. I don’t want your sister getting all sucked in. What? I won’t. Sure I’ll have a little look.

And do and you talking like wild. See this fella he does that. See this fella he kicks him. See now. Hit. That button. Go on. Now. Now. Now. A back flip. Isn’t it mad? Isn’t it brilliant. I say. It is. And my lips. Addictive in my mouth. Definitely blanging that one down. Bash him hard into the floor. You saying left one right one that’s it now and more forward get the hang. I. Hours of it. Hours of fun. Like we were Han and Luke again. Piddle fingers in the puddles. It’s stupid game. It is. It is. Is it not life and death. We roll about the floor. Getting awful kick from this. I’m above I am not. Not tonight. Together. You. I.

She’s narking though. I don’t notice first. Business of wearing my skirts to the ground and make-up. Then the jits I get from going without a drink. A little sup is what I’d like. I must not. Do not here. Go on a bit of Christmas wine. No. I hear her saying. Not you too now. Off at that. That nonsense. What? Every night. I never see my daughter now she’s upstairs. Playing computers thought you had more sense. I thought I had one with the sense they were born with at least. What? How do you mean? All that rubbish up the stairs. I bought to be writing programmes or whatever it is. Not for that. For fun. To pass the time. It’s a waste of it of God’s good fruits. I don’t think commodores were hanging on the tree Mammy don’t start. Don’t you be cheeky. I know you look down on me but I’ll not have irreverence from. You especially. You’re not too big. To? To what? To. Leave the room.

And again. Something else now. Salting her. What it is? You and your brother. You’re not babies. God knows I have done my bit. What’s the problem Mammy? Say what’s wrong? Well. You know. I’m sitting down here on my own. I’m on my own here. Every night. I’d think you could spend some time with me. But. Mammy. Oh you’re your own woman now. What does that mean? Well you know well Miss. Makes me craven sudden. Double up. What has she heard? Ah no. She’d say. If it was that. Sure. Yes she would. She would. She’d go spare. She’d not miss me hit the wall. Oh you don’t think much of me. What I believe in. But you need not give your distain. What? So blatant. Bad as that. What? Like that. Brother of yours. My mouth pulsate guilty. Why what do you mean? Oh nothing. Nothing. Who am I to?

Growl about it all the weeks I’m here, she does. I can tell. It’s to push me off your side. But. Still. I don’t know. We are not the same. We are something else now. Shift. Allied in other places than we were. Games and stuff and fun that. I see it first then soon so much. And she is saying more than she was behind your back. There’s a flea now, for your ear. My ear. I think about it. Bed at night. I’d justify. I throw. Mercy mercy God on me. There’s so much. Dredge up so much muck. I’d drown in that much shit. I couldn’t put a face on that. So listen, I say to myself. Listen careful to what she says. Listen. Hear it. What the words are. What’s going on under them. Don’t fight her. Hear that. God I know. Go on. This is it. She wants. I will do. She want that I’ll rifle through your flesh. So now go. Ask her. Mammy? Say it right out. Is something wrong while I’m not around? What’s the matter? Oh. I hear.

He’s got this job and he won’t drive but won’t get a lift with yer one and he won’t give me his pay now and won’t move to his own and he won’t help around the house and he won’t fill the buckets clean the fire and his bin is full of sweets and he’s getting tub now and he won’t go out and he has no friends in and computer games morning noon and night and he won’t make the dinner even if I’m at work til all hours and he won’t even throw his laundry out and he won’t make his bed and he gets raging if I say and he kicked my washing line pole in two and he won’t clean the drains and he won’t put up those shelves and he won’t take the hoover out and he is eating curry noodles late at night and makes me wash his dishes up there’s something wrong he’s so unfair and I always did my best for you and worst off he won’t come for prayers or on Sunday go to mass says Jesus shove it up his rear I never reared ye to speak like that and what shall I do with him what can I do he’s a grown man he’s twenty-one and sometimes I wish your father hadn’t died that he’d had enough gumption to be a man it never would have been like this I know we’ve had our difficulties but you’re such a good girl that I know I know I must have done something somewhere right what did I do to deserve this treatment?

I did try. I did try first. She won’t hear. She will not. You know Mammy something’s wrong. You know there is. And has been. She turn her eyes from me. I am not supposed to say. We aren’t. None of us. A secret that we. Must not remember. I can’t do. Say that. And I do know. She won’t bear. It. Somehow she think that’s not the truth. Better so lazy than. What? That’s a trap. Leave it undone. Unsaid. It is true. But then? And so I say. Not. Nothing on this. Yes maybe nothing’s really wrong. That’s an excuse. Yes. More. I like that. It’s, has been a lie I carry. Yes. I made it all up in my head. It is not it is. Yes it could be. Very well. How do I know? It was a long time. Broke a statue so what? She could have said anything then. Do I remember? Do I? Ha. So. Maybe not. Maybe not very well. Now. Some inside revolution I made. Turn the world about. So. On this day. I begin again. Again. It’s easier and I breathe it in. Yes I will not know you very well or what inside’s working right or wrong.

Cluck my feathers. Puff them up. Think. Right so. You’re a fucking bastard. Actually. Fucking useless now I think. Carry on. Your rubbish. As though she hadn’t had enough. You selfish fucking bastard shit. Just make her life misery and your own and my. Think I’ll brave you. Tell you where you’re wrong. Shall on her right side knight against you.

I am in your room. Saying. So tell me. What’s all this about? All this shit of you not doing this and that. This room’s a pigsty. It’s a hole. The smell of it in here. The stink. Your feet and you. Dried up food. Jes. Us. Open the window God. You turning. Say what’s up? What? I. Look at this and all your clothes you know. She’s not getting any younger. You’re the only one at home. You’re not a baby. I know. Then what are you going to do about this carry on? She can’t be running after you all your life. You so bone idle. Does it all revolve around you? Sitting playing computer games. There’s a whole world out there you know. You show no interest in anybody else. Not a civil word or help around the house. You know. Bring in the coal for her. Do the dishes. At least your own room should be clean. Is it you blame her? You were too lazy at school, is that it? Is it? You’re not such a hard man now. No one to blame but yourself. Self-pity. Self-indulgence. Get up off your arse and do something with your life. Read a paper now and then. Or. Are you stupid? Have you no friends, little wonder. Who’d hang round with you? The state of this. Get yourself a girlfriend once or will you spend your whole life stacking shelves?

I like it you said. Running out your eye. I just like it it’s fun to watch them doing kicks. I think I’d like to kick like that. I practise it when there’s no one in. I hiyah’d the clothes line and it broke. But. By accident. Not. On purpose. I didn’t know how to fix it but I tried. I propped it up. It was all rotten inside. I’m sorry. Sorry. I’ll do better. I will. I. Do it then tomorrow. I. Don’t be angry with me. Eyes in tears sniffing. You are so dissolved. Sop of them sitting hiccing in your mouth. Now’s not supposed to work this way. Just thought you liked it kicking too you say. You and me isn’t it just? Like when we were little playing all that stuff. Before. Clap. You know when you were thirteen but I remember we did have great games. Oh God. What have I said? Wilt guilty my own badness swilling up to my head. Bleeding through. Don’t move. I can’t. Anyway. Just get off your arse and pull your weight. That’s it. Jesus. What have I done?

That night sitting sitting room. Her knits. Floor balls of wool. You come in. Quiet as any. With The Irish Times. Sitting back against the sofa. Doubled over and knees bent. Flick. Flick through it. Your eyes. Turned about. Think. Talk. And look at me and say. What do you think of that? And see this picture? See yer one? All the things out in the world. And fill your eyes up. Fill your nose. Then looking back and flick again. I saying Yeah or no or so? And pressing on. You. Here what you think? Your opinion of the thing? Aye yes and maybe no not me. Not so interested. Think nice to be left alone. You’re trying too hard. Rubbing me the wrong way. Ho. Sniff. She says and what is that? Read the paper. Since when do you? Who got you up to that? And quiet cross the room you said she did. Point at me. Had a word. Put that flea in my ear. Did she now and what gave her the right? Turn. Now miss. What are you playing at? What? Come back here splashing orders saying who’s doing what. Oh thinking you’re so grand. Off up there at some college. You needn’t come back here to be upsetting him. Your brother is your elder and you should respect that. Are you listening? I am. Almost to the floor. Gobsmacked. Right down there. Excuse me? All these weeks you’ve been giving out saying what a so and so he is. He’s not doing that for me or this or this. So I had a little word with him. Told him what to do. Oh you did did you? Well aren’t you great. And who asked you to or told you or wanted you to? You self-righteous Madam. Looking down your nose at me and your brother. I can tell. We get on. Just fine without you here. Fine without you. And I’ll thank you not to interfere. The cheek. The cheek of it. Snapping snapping. So I got up. Went. Packed my bags. Left next morning by myself. I’ve had a fucking nough of this. Goodbye and then goodbye to you.

I went off back to there and my best friend. Come on. She me go gallivanting. We’ll run riot. Run the best. Ourselves and everyone else into the ground. Going on with. A project we like. That likes us. Bite and chew.

BOOK: A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing
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