Chapter 10

After Crystal died things went on as normal - or as normal as things could be in my life, but we thought and talked about her often when we remembered times that had passed. At first though it seemed strange that she wasn’t at family BBQs; joining in the water-fights, eating plenty and drinking “coke floaters�?(fizzy coke with ice-cream on top, which I detested with a passion!). I’d be sat in my Mamma’s back garden observing everyone as they laughed, cracked jokes and laughed even more and sometimes I’d find my eyes wandering towards the fence, because when Crystal was alive on the odd occasion I’d climb on the rockery and peak over to see if she was out playing. I couldn’t do that anymore.

They say time is a healer but I think there will always be a twinge of pain; the irremovable sense of loss, the wonder of how things would be if she were still here�?I don’t think anything can change that. I suppose that’s what makes us human? The fact that we do ask what we will never know, look for answers we’ll never find and question what we cannot change? Why though? Why does the human mind feel the need to torture itself in such a way? Why can we never accept happenings that are not in our control? Why am I asking these very questions? It’s a complex subject that I know I won’t understand until studying psychology - but I believe that our experiences give us the questions we need to ask in life and indeed, other experiences give us the answers.

I asked plenty of questions about Crystal’s death, both as a child and whilst growing up. They were all the unanswerable ones; the ones that no one wants to answer or no one has an answer for - but in recent years I have begun to find them, within myself, within acceptance and commemoration.

I only wish that other uncertainties, doubts and hurt were able to be put to rest within myself, but layer upon layer they built up and each time something else was added to the already mounting pile, I became weaker and weaker. I knew how I felt about Crystal and I understood what had happened to her, but some things in my own life I had no idea about.

It was three years since my parents had split, for two of those years I hadn’t seen my Dad or the majority of his family and I still didn’t understand why. It was a constant issue and the effects hadn’t subsided; it ruled most of my life for that time - and everyone else around me. It sounds repetitive but my life was one vicious circle that I didn’t see any way out of - my temper would get the best of me, I would cause a scene and whatever consequences were always followed by an apology. It was just how things were. There are only a number times you can say sorry though until it becomes meaningless.

We had moved three times during that period as well - we had to leave the big house with the nice garden and friends next door because Mum and Chris couldn’t afford it. We now lived on a council estate. The house wasn’t too bad after we’d decorated and got rid of the very bright, multicoloured kitchen units and floral patterned three piece, but the area itself wasn’t exactly what you would call child friendly. It was the kind of place where groups of teens hang around on street corners till goodness knows what time in a morning, drinking cheap beer and being rowdy. I didn’t play outside much and when I did I wasn’t on my own. To be honest I don’t think any of us particularly liked it there but again, it was the best we could have and that was enough - where we lived had never really effected us and I never cared as long as I was with my Mum.

Even though Hazel Street was a rough area and some of the people around that estate used to pick on me sometimes, it’s still the home of many fond memories. Just before moving here my Mum and Chris had bought me a cat in the hope that having something to look after and give love to as my own would help me heal. Their plan completely failed because it didn’t make me any better or put a stop to the trouble I caused, but I did love her. Tiptoe was a tabby cat who we’d had from a kitten - who actually did walk on her tiptoes, hence the name - and she had such a personality. In fact, the only way to describe her was completely crackers!

She used to chase things - shadows, beams of light, wool, fingers, feet! Then there were the endless times where she would run up the wall - clinging to the wallpaper with her claws, leaving holes in it. After a while we began to wonder whether we should have bothered decorating! It was even funnier when you’d walk in a room, push the door gently as you do when you don’t quite close it and hear the scratching of claws down wood because she’d lost her balance and fallen off the top. Yes, she used to balance on the top of our doors! In the old house she used to fall asleep on the speakers we had in the corners of our living room. They were high rooms as well, so you may wonder how she managed to get up there in the first place? Well, she climbed up the curtains - you know, as cats do!

Then she had three kittens!�?/P>

But they weren’t AS bad! Thank God! That was a strange memory actually - walking out of my bedroom one morning, all sleepy-eyed, to see a mattress up against the bars of the banister to the stairs, with Tiptoe in the spare room, staring at me with a kitten hanging out of her backside! I can tell you, I wasn’t sleepy-eyed for very long! A cat in labour is enough to wake anyone up!

She was the proud Mother of two girls, both tabby and a boy who was mostly black with white and brown speckles - they were all adorable! We weren’t exactly adventurous with names though - Tabby 1, Tabby 2 and Smudge. How sweet! We put the four of them on a big white cushion in my Mum’s room and I was made to promise not to touch them�?And I did keep it, but instead of stroking them all the time I’d just go and sit on the floor with them and talk to them about how much I couldn’t wait until I could stroke them!

Mum had said something along the lines of “if you touch them it might make Tiptoe not like them anymore.�?The problem with Tiptoe was, she didn’t like them anyway. She was a terrible Mother! She used to just leave them all and my Mum used to have to make her let them feed, which was quite difficult. We were all relieved when they were old enough to eat mashed-up wheetabix! It looked quite comical - three little kittens all crammed round the same saucer eating�?a form of breakfast cereal�?Not something you see every day!

I liked having them with us though... Sometimes I used to shut them in my bedroom with me and read them stories - on the odd occasion they did actually go to sleep as well which just the best feeling ever in my book. They looked so cute, peaceful and I often wondered what cats had to dream about. It was even better when they would settle on my knee and then go to sleep. I found such a comforting feeling in having that little bit of warmth against me and watching as they breathed so quietly. I’d had cats all my life; but to see them grow from a tiny ball of fluff to a four-legged friend with as much personality as me was an amazing experience. I was heart broken when we had to take them to the RSPCA because we couldn’t afford to keep them.

I sat in the car with all three kittens in their carrier next to me on the seat, listening to them cry - as if they knew that they were going somewhere and never coming back. I bit my lip and fought the lump in my throat which seemed determined to make my tears fall, but I wouldn’t let it and I wouldn’t let them leave trails down my cheeks. I had cried enough. I told myself they were just cats and they would be going to a new home, to people who would loved them as much as I did and make them happy. A family would look after them and maybe another little girl would read them stories like I did.

We arrived at the centre and followed a lady through a door which led to a corridor. It had little glass compartments all the way down it; each one had kittens, puppies and cats in it, all looking for new homes. I didn’t want to leave them there because of the sheer fact that there were so many others in their position. Mum promised they’d find new homes though and it wouldn’t take too long because they were kittens and people liked kittens. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to them if they didn’t find a home.

We came to an empty compartment with white walls and a big towel in it. I guessed that would be where they had to stay for now. It looked comfortable, but it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t what they’d grown to know. They wouldn’t have mashed-up wheetabix here or wallpaper to scratch at and I’d no longer have someone to talk to, or fall asleep on my knee and at the bottom of my bed when I went to sleep at night.

I did cry on the way home. Holding the empty box didn’t feel right. It was too light and it contained nothing but�?Emptiness. The last eight weeks of my life and their lives had been voided. It meant nothing anymore because we couldn’t keep them and it felt as though something else had gone missing. I had to keep telling myself that they were just cats. They weren’t friends, or things to love, they were just cats and I still had Tiptoe at home. She would keep me company and love me back now that her children couldn’t. I knew Tiptoe loved me from the way she looked at me, the way her eyes were full of affection every single day, no matter what, the way she twisted round my ankles as I walked and meowed for a fuss.

I love that about animals; they’re always happy to see you. They don’t tell you that you look rough on a Sunday morning when you’ve been out the night before and got a major hangover. They don’t tell you that you look fat in an outfit or that your arse looks too big in a pair of trousers. They don’t care that you’re in a bad mood or you’ve snapped at six people during the day and they’re always there at the door waiting when you to come home, no matter what time it is.

Not to mention the fact that they’re so much simpler to understand than people, even though they don’t speak the same language! All they need is feeding twice a day, to be shown how special they are to you and for you to be yourself. They never ask for more than what you can give and they accept you for who you are. Give them love and they return it threefold, give them a life and they’ll stay by your side until their last breath. That is loyalty beyond anything else.

I hoped my Mum was right.

I do feel as though I lost a lot as a child. Most things that I had seemed to disappear. Whatever or whoever it was would be in my life for a while and then have to leave for one reason or another. It never changed. I guess though, again, as I’ve grown, I’ve learnt from that. Some people come into your life for a reason, but then they have to go once they’ve fulfilled that reason, some people stay there forever, because they were meant to.

I had another best friend as a child called Taryn. She was welsh and moved in next door to us on the estate after we’d been there for a while. She was three years younger than me, but it didn’t make an ounce of different, we got on like a house on fire. The first time we met I remember being in the kitchen getting a drink and just as I was walking through to the living room, there was a knock at the front door. Mum answered and I stood there - just literally stood there. I didn’t recognise the people, or the accent for that matter.

“Hiya�?the blonde lady said, putting her arm round the girl’s shoulders who was stood at her side. “My name’s Tracey, we’ve just moved in next door. This is my daughter Taryn.�?

My Mum smiled, “Hi. Emma,�?she turned round to face me “come and meet our new neighbours.�?/P>

I walked to the door clutching my plastic beaker of blackcurrant squash and gave them a shy smile. Taryn smiled back - she had little dimples in her cheeks.

Tracey looked at me for a moment, smiling, “Emma, you’ll have to come round to our house and play some time, if you like? I know Taryn would like that, wouldn’t you sweetie?�?/P>

She nodded, ever so slightly, as if embarrassed to admit it.

“That’d be nice wouldn’t it, Emma?�?My Mum asked, as if to prompt an answer. “What do you say?�?/P>

I nodded in the same way, hardly moving my head, “Thank you.�?

“Ok, that’s sorted then!�?Tracey laughed, “I think you two will get on fine when you’re not so shy!�?I loved their accent! I’d never heard welsh before - I wasn’t even sure what it was and when they’d gone I did have to ask my Mum where they came from and why they spoke differently.

Tracey was right though, we did get on great once we started talking. For the next year or so we spent every opportunity we could together. At weekends I would go to the pub with her family and sometimes she would stay at my house. We played Barbies, dolls, colouring - anything and everything! The best thing was, we never got bored of conversation. Taryn’s Mum was lovely too, she always made me feel welcome and if I was there whilst she was cooking dinner I couldn’t refuse to stay because she wouldn’t let me!

We were inseparable for that time - she even came to family parties with me. One memory that I will never forget is the day I nearly cracked my head open. We were jumping around in the living room to music or something - just being silly really and because I’m me and I always like to take things that little bit further, I decided to balance between the arm of the chair and the settee. I stood there half in mid-air with my arms spread wide. Taryn crawled between my legs�?/P>

I could feel my feet slipping, she had knocked me ever so slightly and I had socks on�?My arms wafted to try and keep my balance, but it was no use�?/P>

All I could do was scream as I felt myself falling backwards. The only thought going through my mind was the Italian wood coffee table behind me. It was a strange shape, sort of oval, with curves in it.

“SMACK!�?Yep - the coffee table had literally near enough gone through my mind! I have never hit any part of my body so hard in my life - even since then! It was so loud my Mum heard it in the kitchen over the music we had playing on the stereo. I fell onto the settee with my hands wrapped round the back of my head, screaming. I scared Taryn so much she went home crying!

The lump on my head was absolutely huge - so big that I couldn’t rest on my pillow or lie down in the bath, just because it stuck out so much. If I’d have hit my head any harder, I have no doubt I would have cracked it open. Chris inspected me in order to decide whether or not to take me to hospital. I stood in their bedroom with my hands by my side.

“I think you’re ok,�?he said like a doctor would “you can stand up straight and you’re not swaying or anything. Do you feel sick?�?/P>

“No.�?

“Dizzy?�?/P>

“No.�?/P>

“Like you could faint?�?/P>

“No.�?/P>

“You’re alright then, but Emma?�?/P>

“Yeah…�?/P>

“Don’t do that again! Do you realise how close you were to cracking your head open?�?/P>

“No.�?/P>

“In the middle of that lump, there’s a little blue spot. That’s blood that’s rushed to the surface.�?/P>

“Eeeeerrrrr!�?I shrieked, half disgusted. I felt the lump, “Ow!�?/P>

“Does it hurt when you touch it?�?/P>

“Yeeeaahh…�?I sulked.

“Don’t do it then!�?Chris laughed, and Mum joined in.

“It’s not funnnnyyyy!�?/P>

I decided I wouldn’t play about on the sofa and chair again - I should have really been put off when Chris told me about the time his Dad bit his tongue off from swinging on a chair! But no, this was me, I tried everything out AT LEAST once before I learnt - and to this day, it’s still the same!

I had to apologise to Taryn for frightening her in the way that I did. We giggled about it though and the lump didn’t last too long. Chris confirmed that my head wasn’t going to fall off nor my brain shrink - I would be fine and indeed as always, he was right - like the time I got one of his bolts stuck on my finger and he said that washing up liquid would get it off - but that was a close call because it was a squeeze and my finger had turned purple!

I was always clumsy as a child anyway - I fell over and hurt myself more times than Laura and Carla did put together! Some how I managed to fall off my bike TWICE in one day, so not only did I have one hole in one knee, I had a hole in both - and one was full of half the pavement as well. You can still see the tiny speckles of grit that we didn’t manage to get out! Then there was time where I was out playing on my rollerblades - I got to the top of the street and ten minutes later I was on my way back because surprise, surprise, I’d fallen over! Clumsy was my middle name!

That’s probably why Taryn and I got on so well actually because she was just as bad! Again, she was someone in my life who contributed so much to the good times and she’s another person who I know I will never forget.

We sat on my front step one day talking, playing with a heap of petals that we’d pulled off some of my Mum’s flowers in the garden! (I know what you’re thinking - how did she not tell us off for that?�?Well, I have no idea!).

Taryn was very much in the same position as me though; she didn’t see her Dad very often and her Mum had got into a relationship with someone else. Unlike my Mum and Chris though they were actually married and Paul was her step-dad. From what I could tell they got on well, but like me, Taryn had her own reservations about Paul. I liked him, he was a funny guy with a big personality but I knew that like my own Dad, he probably had a side to him that you wouldn’t like to meet.

“…Taryn?…�?I asked, quietly.

“Yeah?�?She looked up from the mound of petals and leaves on the floor.

“How�?Um�?How did you start calling Paul Dad?�?/P>

“Why?�?she smiled.

“No reason,�?I blushed, trying to end the conversation.

“No, come on, tell me!�?She giggled. “I just walked in the room one day and said Mum and Dad without realising and it’s been like that ever since.�?/P>

“Oh…�?/P>

“Why?�?She asked again, a little more serious this time.

“…Well�?I�?I want to call Chris, Dad…�?I looked at her to see the expression on her face. I was surprised because she was completely unfazed.

“Just do it, or ask him?�?/P>

“Yeah I could do, I guess…�?/P>

We left it at that and I thought long and hard. What if I called Chris Dad and then saw my Dad again? It might hurt him. What if my Dad was mad at me? What if Chris didn’t want me to call him Dad?

I risked it anyway.

It was a Saturday night, we’d hired a really addictive game from the video shop called Tetrisphere, for the Nintendo 64. I’d been allowed to stay up way passed my bed time, because my Mum and Chris had been so obsessed with the game they’d forgot to tell me to go to bed and didn’t think it was fair anyway because we’d been taking it in turns.

I handed the controller over to my Mum. All three of us were lined up on the settee and I was rammed right in the middle.

“Right, who’s turn now?!�?My Mum piped up wafting the controller.

“Mine!�?Chris volunteered and leant over me to grab the weird shaped grey thing from my Mum’s hands.

Within five minutes he was lost within the next round. I saw the perfect opportunity!

“…Mum?…�?I said, flapping my hand and indicating her to come closer.

“Yeah?�?I could feel her breath on my face.

“Can you ask Chris to go out the room? I got summet t�?ask you�?/P>

“Yeah�?Chris, pause it…�?

I laughed because he looked like a zombie, just staring at the TV screen, not even blinking.

“CHRIS!�?Mum bellowed - I burst into laughter as Chris jumped out of his skin, “pause it!�?

“What?!�?- the look of sheer terror on his face was hilarious!

“Go and make us a coffee love, please?�?

Making the coffees was always Chris’s job - still is always Chris’s job! My eyes followed him across the room as he got up and made his way to the kitchen.

“What’s up?�?She asked, turning to face me.

I pushed her face gently away so I could whisper in her ear again - just in case Chris was listening outside the door.

“Can I call Chris Dad?�?/P>

My Mum turned to face me.

“Awwwww…�?She smiled, “I’m sure he’d like that - shall we ask him when he comes back in?�?/P>

I blushed, grinning. Chris walked through the door and handed me a cup of tea.

“Thanks!�?I giggled.

“What you laughing at?�?He asked intrigued, as he put the other two drinks down on the table.

I looked at my Mum and she looked at me�?It was like one big secret and I loved it.

“Nothiiiiiing!�?I teased.

“Come on!!!�?He gave me “the look�?- it always made me laugh because his eyes would widen and one of his eyebrows would raise without him even knowing he was doing it. He still does it now and it never fails to make me chuckle, even at times where I really shouldn’t be laughing!

“Well…�?Mum began, seriously with a hint of “I know something you don’t know�?in her voice, “Emma was wondering if she could call you Dad?�?/P>

I saw the slight shock in his face at first, but within seconds it was gone and his eyes became full of warmth.

“Sweetheart that would be lovely, thank you!�?He leant over and gave me a hug - which I must admit was quite difficult with the cup of tea in my hand!

It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. We all sat there for a while longer, chatting and after every sentence at least one of us yawned! It was a very late night for me - I’d never been allowed to stay up till 1 o clock in the morning before unless it was a special occasion. For that time the game remained on pause though which was an achievement since we’d been playing on it for about 5 hours!

“You best get to bed Emmabelle!�?Mum said as she patted my leg, “it’s waaaaaaay passed your bed time!�?/P>

“I know!�?I admitted, “I’m shattered!�?/P>

I put my cup on the table, (yes, the same one which nearly cracked my head open), gave kisses and made my way upstairs. I tucked myself in bed and then remembered I hadn’t said goodnight so I threw the covers back and ran to the top of the stairs�?/P>

“NIGHT MUUUUUUM!

“Night Emma!�?She shouted back.

“NIGHT CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!�?I MEAN, NIGHT DAD!�?/P>

“Night Emma!�?/P>

I ran back into my bedroom and closed the door to block out the fits of laughter from the living room! It was a nice night but the whole Dad thing never did stick!

(C) Emma J J