of
paper.
“Here. This is the number of
Josie’s psychiatrist.”
“That was fast.”
“Her mum called me while I was
out: Talked for nearly an hour about the funeral—crying on the
phone, making me cry too. She wants an alteration on her dress,
wants the drapes to be red, doesn’t want too many snacks
afterwards, wants this, wants that. She’s a slave driver.”
“So how did you get it out of
her?”
“I told her Josie and I had the
same psychiatrist, but that I lost his number and couldn’t remember
his name because it was such a long time ago. Blah blah blah.
Eventually she got it for me.”
“Smart.”
“Are you saying I’m not?”
“Did she mention me at all?”
“Yes. She told me not to tell
you where the funeral was going to be held.”
“So where is it going to be
held?”
Monika laughed.
“I’m serious. I want to
know.”
Her laughter turned into a look
of shock.
“Joseph, no. Please don’t go and
make a scene. It’s not fair to Josie.”
“That I go to her funeral? How
is it fair that I’m not even allowed?”
“It’s not. I’m not saying
that.”
Monika steadied herself on the
table and held her head. She had obviously had a few drinks
already.
“You can go leave flowers and
visit her afterwards, Joseph. The funeral is just going to be her
mother and some old friends crying.”
Monika was right. I didn’t even
want to be at the funeral. I wasn’t sentimental about things like
that, and it would obviously end in a scene, much as I might try to
avoid it. I had only met Josie’s mother once, and she had judged me
as scum right then. Nevertheless, I wanted to be there out of a
sense of principle, and the hope of somehow getting a hold of
Josie’s personal belongings that had been entrusted to her
mother.
“Ok. I won’t go,” I said,
although I still wasn’t sure.
“Joseph, I wanted to talk to you
about Vicky.”
“What about her? Did something
happen today?”
“No, no. She was a sweetheart
all day. I took her to the office, everybody loves her. She was
trying on clothes, had pictures taken, everything. She loved
it.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yes. Well, that’s it, Joseph.
We spoke a little bit and…”
Monika trailed off, thinking
about what she was going to say.
“Joseph. Don’t bite my head off
for saying this. But I think you should let her mix with people a
bit more. She loves it so much, she’s so sociable. She told me
that—”
“Fuck you, Monika. Fuck you. You
picked her up from school once and now you’re telling me what she
needs? You haven’t got a fucking clue.”
“Joseph—”
“No, shut up. I’ve had a tough
day, and I don’t like your tone. When you wake up early every
morning to make a packed lunch, or do her homework with her, or buy
her shoes, or have her come wake you up in the middle of the night
because of nightmares; then you can talk to me about her.”
“She told me, Joseph.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she did. If
anything is wrong with her, then it’s that she’s spoilt. I break my
back trying to make her life great. I always put her first. She’s
beginning to take it for granted.”
“I know, but—”
“The government don’t even know
our mother’s gone. If they did they’d put her in a foster home or
something, I live every day in fear they’ll come knocking and start
asking questions.”
“Joseph, will you just listen to
me for a second?”
“What?”
“I know you do that. I’m not
telling you that you need to change. Vicky loves you a lot. You do
a fantastic job of raising her right. I’m just saying she would
like to meet more people. I remember when I was a girl—I was a lot
like Vicky—and I wanted to meet people, socialise, but I never got
the chance. It makes me sad.”
“Fuck you. I’m done here. Thanks
for the number. I’m gonna get Vicky and leave.”
I went to the living room where
Monika’s friends were still in high spirits.
“Come on Vicky. It’s pretty
late.”
“I
paper.
“Here. This is the number of
Josie’s psychiatrist.”
“That was fast.”
“Her mum called me while I was
out: Talked for nearly an hour about the funeral—crying on the
phone, making me cry too. She wants an alteration on her dress,
wants the drapes to be red, doesn’t want too many snacks
afterwards, wants this, wants that. She’s a slave driver.”
“So how did you get it out of
her?”
“I told her Josie and I had the
same psychiatrist, but that I lost his number and couldn’t remember
his name because it was such a long time ago. Blah blah blah.
Eventually she got it for me.”
“Smart.”
“Are you saying I’m not?”
“Did she mention me at all?”
“Yes. She told me not to tell
you where the funeral was going to be held.”
“So where is it going to be
held?”
Monika laughed.
“I’m serious. I want to
know.”
Her laughter turned into a look
of shock.
“Joseph, no. Please don’t go and
make a scene. It’s not fair to Josie.”
“That I go to her funeral? How
is it fair that I’m not even allowed?”
“It’s not. I’m not saying
that.”
Monika steadied herself on the
table and held her head. She had obviously had a few drinks
already.
“You can go leave flowers and
visit her afterwards, Joseph. The funeral is just going to be her
mother and some old friends crying.”
Monika was right. I didn’t even
want to be at the funeral. I wasn’t sentimental about things like
that, and it would obviously end in a scene, much as I might try to
avoid it. I had only met Josie’s mother once, and she had judged me
as scum right then. Nevertheless, I wanted to be there out of a
sense of principle, and the hope of somehow getting a hold of
Josie’s personal belongings that had been entrusted to her
mother.
“Ok. I won’t go,” I said,
although I still wasn’t sure.
“Joseph, I wanted to talk to you
about Vicky.”
“What about her? Did something
happen today?”
“No, no. She was a sweetheart
all day. I took her to the office, everybody loves her. She was
trying on clothes, had pictures taken, everything. She loved
it.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yes. Well, that’s it, Joseph.
We spoke a little bit and…”
Monika trailed off, thinking
about what she was going to say.
“Joseph. Don’t bite my head off
for saying this. But I think you should let her mix with people a
bit more. She loves it so much, she’s so sociable. She told me
that—”
“Fuck you, Monika. Fuck you. You
picked her up from school once and now you’re telling me what she
needs? You haven’t got a fucking clue.”
“Joseph—”
“No, shut up. I’ve had a tough
day, and I don’t like your tone. When you wake up early every
morning to make a packed lunch, or do her homework with her, or buy
her shoes, or have her come wake you up in the middle of the night
because of nightmares; then you can talk to me about her.”
“She told me, Joseph.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she did. If
anything is wrong with her, then it’s that she’s spoilt. I break my
back trying to make her life great. I always put her first. She’s
beginning to take it for granted.”
“I know, but—”
“The government don’t even know
our mother’s gone. If they did they’d put her in a foster home or
something, I live every day in fear they’ll come knocking and start
asking questions.”
“Joseph, will you just listen to
me for a second?”
“What?”
“I know you do that. I’m not
telling you that you need to change. Vicky loves you a lot. You do
a fantastic job of raising her right. I’m just saying she would
like to meet more people. I remember when I was a girl—I was a lot
like Vicky—and I wanted to meet people, socialise, but I never got
the chance. It makes me sad.”
“Fuck you. I’m done here. Thanks
for the number. I’m gonna get Vicky and leave.”
I went to the living room where
Monika’s friends were still in high spirits.
“Come on Vicky. It’s pretty
late.”
“I
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