Break the Child: Chapter Eight: Kissing and White Wine

Chapter Eight: Kissing and White Wine

My mother put three teabags in the washing machine yesterday. She said she thought it was the waste bin. This morning, I went into the kitchen and she was kneeling on the floor pulling like mad on the washing machine door, trying to get it open but not pushing the handle in to release the catch. She’s going to break that too if she’s not careful.

But I’m scared. When I opened the washing machine door for her, she didn’t put our dirty clothes in it. She emptied the cat’s litter box into it instead. Why would she want to wash that? I tried to tell her you can’t wash it and use it again. I thought she was recycling—but it would all swell up with the water and it wouldn’t work. I tried to stop her, but she pushed me out of the way, and it was too late.

            When dad came home, I heard him talking to Aunty Linda. He told her that my mum thinks the washing machine is the kitchen bin. The really funny thing is that it isn’t funny. They didn’t laugh at all and my dad ran his fingers through his hair and made it all sticking up.

            “I don’t know what to do, Linda. I just don’t know what to do. It’s not as if it’s the first time. And she gets so angry. I thought she was going to hit me last night.’

            Well, that’s just ridiculous, my mum never hits anyone. I think dad was talking rubbish there just so’s Aunty Linda would feel sorry for him. But he’s right in the bit about the washing machine. It doesn’t even look like the bin –it’s white and the bin is black, and the bin doesn’t have a door on the front, and it doesn’t go round.

 I think somethings going on with mum and I’m scared. I looked up a thing that pregnant women get called pre-eclampsia—but it didn’t say anything about washing machines—or litter bins.  

            I am worried about two things.

            1) Kissing boys

            2) Drinking alcohol

            At the school disco, Jenny got off with Joe Trench. They had a smooch to Adele, and Joe asked her to go out with him properly and be his girlfriend. Jenny was dead happy, and she let Joe kiss her. The next day he told her that she was dumped and then he went around telling everybody that Jenny couldn’t kiss properly.

            I don’t know how to kiss properly, either. I’ve been asked to go with three boys since then, but I said I didn’t fancy them, because I don’t know how to kiss. Going with someone is like getting off with them for the night and then, if they like you, they ask you to go out with them for real and then you have to kiss.

            Last year, Keith Green asked me to go with him and we went out for two days. He held my hand when we went to hang out, and that was nice. I felt dead important walking down the street holding hands with a boy. I wanted everybody to see me. Then, when he walked me home, he kissed me on the cheek and when I turned around, he kissed me on the lips, just like that, and it was really good. I went in my house and got all butterflies in my stomach. But I don’t think it was a proper kiss. He had his mouth closed the whole entire time and you’re supposed to have your mouth open and chew it around a bit—or something like that—everybody says so.

            I told Sal that I’m worried about it and she said to practice kissing on the back of my hand. She did it to show me how, but it was really cringey and we couldn’t stop laughing. And she’s no good, because she’s only kissed two boys and neither of them had kissed anybody before either, so she didn’t know if they were doing it right, or not.

It’s all right saying open your mouth, but how far? I mean, if you open yours wide and he only opens his a smidge, you’d end up sucking his nose. Oh God, how embarrassing would that be? Can you imagine? And if he had the snots it’d be gross and then you wouldn’t want to go out with him. The next thing is, you’re supposed to go round and round with your mouth, like you’re chewing chuddy, but how fast do you do it? How do you know that he’s going to do it at the same speed? I know you’ve got to close your eyes, but I’m scared that his mouth will fall off mine and that, if I’ve got my eyes closed, I won’t know how to find it again. It’s not like you can get your fingers in there and grope around for his mouth, is it? And that’s another thing, how do you know when to stop kissing? Is there a set time? If there is, I don’t know it. And when you stop do you close your mouth while you’re still kissing, or pull it away first and then close it? It’s got to be the last one, because you can’t close your mouth while you’re still kissing because his mouth is still on there. So, you pull it off first, but what if he opens his eyes and you’re there with your mouth open, like a fish? Wouldn’t you look really stupid? It’s all so confusing and until I know what to do, I’m going to have to keep turning boys down, and then I’ll be ninety before I get a boyfriend.

            My second worry is alcohol. One day, when I’m older, I might fancy a glass of white wine when a boy takes me out for dinner in a fancy restaurant. We’ll go to Alfredos and I’ll have the salmon en-crute—that means in pastry, Gino Whats-His-Face says so and my mum thinks he’s fit—but he’s old, so he isn’t. And when the bill comes, I’ll say we’ll go halves and my boyfriend will say, ‘No my dear, a lady never pays.’ And he’ll get his gold credit card out and put it on the little plate all discrete like. And he’ll help me on with my coat and I won’t ask for a doggie bag no matter how much I didn’t eat or how starving I am.

But I’m scared about the wine. I have no idea what one glass of white wine would do to me. Mel drank half of a bottle of cider, is wine stronger or weaker? And what if I want half a lager instead, or a gin and tonic? Sal said I’d just have to try one drink of whatever it was and see if I was all right, and then, next time try two, and do it that way. That’s all well and good, but what if I have one glass of white wine and end up like Mel was, in the middle of a restaurant, too. I'd just die of shame. My dad saw Mel's knickers.

            I asked Mel what it felt like and she said that at first it felt quite funny and it made her laugh, but then all she wanted to do was cry. But if you ask me, that’s all understandable, she’d just had her boob felt with all of the lad's mates copping an eyeful, and then she’d been dumped. I think I’d cry too, without the cider.

            I suppose, when I fancy a white wine with my meal, I’d be safer having a soda water, with ice and a slice, and that’s classy, anyway.

            When I got in Alba and Poppy, that’s my cats, came to meet me like they always do, but they were both crying their heads off. I gave them a stroke, but they wouldn’t shut up. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that all three of their bowls were empty. That’s fine with the bowl that they have wet food in, because they only have that at teatime, but their water bowls and biscuit bowl, that should be filled at all times, were both bone dry.  I fed them and they were so thirsty that they lapped their water for ages. I don’t think Mum fed them this morning. I hope she’s better at feeding the baby.