Looking after Mum: Part II: Chapter 13

Chapter 13

On Thursday, I got another permission note to skip a lesson so I could have another session with Susannah. I ignored the piece of paper sullenly, balling it up and plunging it into the darkest confines of my bag. Since our first meeting in Year Seven, I’d been to see her regularly once a week. I never said much. Now, I just couldn’t be bothered to go to another meeting. I’d had an extremely bad morning as Mum had gone into another state of fearfulness where she refused to come near anyone.
I thought I was going to get away with it, until Miss Drury popped her head around the classroom door in Double English and asked for me to come to reception.

She met me outside reception as usual, said hello, and led me past the door saying Staff Only. I thought for a moment we were going to use the staff room as our meeting place but instead we went to a door adjacent to the principal’s office.
“We’ve got a room assigned now,” she grinned at me. “No more roaming around the school looking for empty classrooms. It’s more private and the windows are blacked out. It’s going to be our new counselling room. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “I’m practically over the moon with joy.”
She just laughed, and led me into the room. A shiny, black leather chair was on one side, opposite to a small plastic chair, the kind in classrooms. She gestured for me to sit on it, perching herself on the edge of the leather chair. It was a small room that smelt of soap and candles. Adjoining Susannah’s chair was a small, high desk, on which was her pink folder and a stack of papers.
“So, Amelia,” she said, smiling broadly at me. Sentence beginning theory confirmed. “How’ve you been this past week?”
“Awful,” I said without thinking.
“Good,” said Susannah, scribbling down something in her folder.
“Good?” I shrieked, getting worked up, firstly because I’d forgotten my scheme to tell her nothing, and secondly because of her stupid answer. I don’t know, she just infuriated me with her calmness. “I’ve just told you my week’s been awful and you’re commending it? Great.”
“It’s so good to hear you say this,” Susannah said in an even voice, continuing calmly and not even looking up from her folder at my outburst. “You’re finally opening up to me. This is the first accurate description you’ve given me the six times I’ve seen you.” She locked eyes with me and took hold of my hand. “Tell me more, Amelia.” What did she think she was, a extra from Grease? I thought as I became more and more flustered. She was mercilessly wrenching me out of my comfort zone without batting an eyelid.
“Oh...what is there to tell?” I snapped, increasingly flushed and worked up. “There’s a horrible bitch at school intent on making my life complete HELL, I haven’t a single friend, my mother’s come back home from a stroke, half her body is paralysed, and she doesn’t even know who I am and my dad... My Dad! My dad isn’t even here, he disappeared without saying anything. He...he left in Year Seven and I haven’t heard a single bloody word from him or anything, and...and no-one knows and I just hate it, I hate it...”
I broke off into tired sobs, putting my head in my hands and crying softly. Unruffled, Susannah plucked a tissue from a Kleenex box and extended it with a steady hand. snatched it, blowing my nose and trying to wipe mucus off my face, as the tears continued to roll. Susannah kept sitting there, looking at me intently as if waiting for me to continue, like we were having a perfectly normal conversation.
As my crying subsided, I managed to force out through my hiccups, “Oh, (sob) I (sob) hate (sob) you...”
“That’s okay,” Susannah said calmly. “It’s not important.”
I glared at her through the wet blur covering my glasses.
“But,” she continued in a gentle voice, completely genuinely. It wasn’t mocking or mean. “For me to help you, you’re going to have to stop fighting me, sooner or later.”
Her kindness broke me. I imploded. Hostility ricocheted through my organs and oozed out of my sweat glands. I became a carbonated fury shake.
She touched me and angry, despairing tears, different from the ones I had shed a minute ago, came hurtling down my cheeks.
“This is good,” said Susannah in a soothing voice. “That’s it. Let it out.”
I put my head on my knees and shook uncontrollably, still weeping in fury.
“Good,” Susannah said. “Good.”

That day I returned home from school and as usual went to Mum’s room. She lay, still and stiff on the bed, and if I hadn’t seen her breathing I would have thought she was dead. I bent over her and said, “Hi, Mum.”
She turned over and smiled, for the first time in so long, smiled, and said, “Hello, Amelia. Where have you been?"

The next few minutes after that were indescribable. I stood there frozen for a moment, shaking ever so slightly, like an old video on pause. Then finally I started breathing, taking in everything, and then hurried to the bed and stood in front of Mum, gazing at her. Then we fell into an awkward hug and it didn’t feel like I was hugging my mother, it felt like hugging a stranger. Then the tears came, coursing down my cheeks, and I could hardly breathe I was crying so much.
"Mum," I gasped. "Oh Mum."
"Don't cry, love. Don't cry," she said, holding me tight and stroking my hair with her long dry fingers.
"Oh Mum. You've been gone so long. You haven't known me..." My sobs cut out my words and they evaporated into the tears. I crumpled up and clasped her hands, wanting to hold her and to lock her up so that she wouldn’t ever forget who I was again.
"Don't cry, my darling. It'll be fine, you'll see,” she said reassuringly, smiling and running her fingers through my hair.
I believed her for a minute. It was like I could just melt into those warm, protective arms and never come out again, and never have to worry or think about anything, like I could just relax into being a child, a normal child.
"Where's your father? We have so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. Call your father, dear. Everything's going to be fine once he gets here."
And that was when I knew that nothing was going to change.
Poor Mum. She thought Dad was there, that he was going to come, just like that, that he was the one that was going to come to make everything better. But of course not. I knew that at the moment, it would take a miracle to make anything better. Even though I'd found Mum, or she had found herself, it did not mean that anything was going to change.
What is this place? something inside of me cried out, ripping at my heart with angry claws.
But how was I going to tell her about Dad? Oh, God. How was I going to tell her?
"Mum?" I said, struggling through my tears, my breath all torn and jagged and shaky. "Mum, please...please...I need to tell you..."
She wouldn't let me continue. She held me really tight, especially my hands, squeezing them till all the blood rushed to the tips. The happy, dreamy feeling came back to me and I relaxed but then I was painfully jolted back into reality.
"Oh Mum," I sobbed. "Oh Mum."
"What is it?" she asked in a gentle voice, loosening her grip on me.
"If only you knew," I whispered softly, soft as the sound of raindrop falling in a lake during a thunderstorm, but she heard.
"Knew what?"
"Mum..." I paused and cleared my throat. What I said next came out in a gruff, croaky voice. "Dad's not here."
Her fingers immediately tensed and ceased to move, and I could feel her pulse quickening, like a frenzied drumbeat. "What...what do you mean? Where's he gone? He's not gone for long, I hope..."
"You...you don't understand," I said, my breath catching. "Dad's gone. He's...he's left us."
Mum let out a strangulated noise, a sort of breathy moan, and then became very, very still, and closed her eyes.
"Mum?"
She shook her head, shut me out, and started curling up into her self, tucking her head in and rocking backwards and forwards, making that despairing noise again and again, until it turned into quiet sobs, muffled by her hands, coming out in jagged intervals.
If there was ever a moment where I was well and truly lost for words it was then. I simply couldn't think of anything to say. What are you supposed to do when your mother starts to act like that, what can you do to make it better? I could only sit there and watch her fall into pieces.
Just like I had done.

I couldn’t go on just sitting there like that. I had to leave a place I was so obviously not being of any use in.
I just walked out the flat there and then, without telling Miss Alcock anything that had happened.
I hurried down the flights of stairs and was about to leave the block when I saw light through the glazed door of number 1A.
Once again I stood on the pristine door mat and rang the door bell. I heard her feet shuffling in their slippers along the corridor and the clink of keys. She appeared at the door.
“Ah, young Amelia,” she said, with just a bit too much enthusiasm. It made a drastic change to her normal tone of voice. She quickly looked down, and deepened her voice. “Well, well, disturbing the peace again, are we? You’d better come in.”