It's no Ulysses.
Why did I put on those shoes? My feet freeze underneath white socks.
It was nice to see them again. The cat, the sofa, the cinammon. Madonna on the screen. This was her drug phase. Legs like stalks under denim. Taking the present was embarrassing, but she let me open it. I touched the cat and it scarpered. Not like my Tilly.
I wonder where that house exists now? With the artwork, and the bookcase, and the pregnant woman staring out from the mantlepiece. Kitchen conversations spread out before me like a yellow brick road. The snow outside. Brown-eyed intensity. The cat holds out its paw.
They put me on the sofa to calm me down. Be gentle, be gentle. Mint tea in a green mug. W came in smelling of alcohol. It will all be ok. It will all be ok. Classical music swirled. The silhouette leered out from above the fence.
And now the pink buses. People smoking out on the street. The trees are bare and the sky is drab, but at least the snow has thawed. A steaming bowl of chilli sits on the table.
Not moving on to bigger and better things. This is my career.
Gran looks so old now. She seems to be shrinking into the ground. That man flickers like a nightmare. Give me money and it'll all be ok. Their faces in the mirror. I've been here before. The whole world exists in my head.
You took the words right out of my mouth. Who was sitting on the plane beside Meatloaf?
But she is here now. The real thing. Not a simulacrum, not a dream. Sitting here in her blue cardigan.
The fields, the avenue, the little room where I spent Saturday night. Like returning from a sleep, or waking from a coma. But what next?
Silver buddha looked out at me from the top of the drawer. Have you forgotten? The woman on the bag shot out an accusing look. But my head was fried. Now things are safe.
A pot of chilli. The club exactly the same. The lights shining out of our eyes as we danced on the stage. We turn ourselves into fireworks, screaming out the lyrics like we see them. Hands up in the air we become. Cameras flashing. Facebook screen. Dark taxi home. I didn't have time to fill up the hot water bottle.
I dreamt I went back to school. I was so happy to see the kids again. I put my arm around M. I told Anne Brazier that I'd had a dream and I wanted to come back. I know I had to. Happy Calshot faces stare out from the screen. How could I do it to them?
But that office, and J breathing down my neck. Sitting there in the dark wanting to go home. But this is the dream! The outstanding school obscured by snow.
They were quietly working. The old woman sat at the back of the room making notes. The snow fell down softly. I stood by the window, watching. I knew I would never return. Frozen for all time happy eleven year olds. Life progresses, disappointments march. But they are frozen forever. J's office. The frantic marking, preparing. Anne Brazier's face turns away. He shan't return.
But then that place looms out like a nightmare. Monkeys on the phone. Empty space. Desperate trips to the coffee machine. How could I leave them like that?
Where's Mr Hawthorne?
Mr Hawthorne will not be returning.
Sad faces, let down, abandoned. Torturing the new teacher to pay her back for my betrayal. I can't bear it. I block it out over and over again. The advert on the website. Temporary English Teacher required ASAP.
Still. I am glad to be here. I looked at S and D with bemusement. Here they were, once again on my screen. Blood thicker than water. The ties that bind us are strong and will last forever. I catch myself in the mirror. What was that dream? May we never forget. The bright morning sunshine. Sitting in our whites on the train.
Die once and be afraid of nothing ever after. Lazarus rises from the tomb. Bandages unfurl and float down to the sea. I jump in. It's not Ulysses.
The light fades from an already dark sky. The pebbles crunch underneath my feet. I sit cross legged beneath the moon. The pier sparkles on the ocean. An orange light hovers in the sky.
The image fades. Blondie plays on the radio. Animated conversations all around. Time to move on. Sorry kids. Show's over. You'll get over it.
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