Page 29 of If I Could Say Goodbye
‘Twice,’ Oscar butts in, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Twice?’ Ed folds his arms, his body taking on a ‘Strict Dad’ pose.
‘OK, it was four, but Aunty Kerry said that we were old enough.’
‘What movies did you watch?’
‘There was the one with the willy . . .’
‘Willy?’ Dad’s face goes pale and Mum has begun to maniacally squirt the draining board with disinfectant.
‘Yep . . . it had an eye,’ Hailey says quietly.
‘Just one,’ Oscar adds. ‘It was gross.’
‘And he was all stiff.’
‘But Aunty Kerry said that was normal,’ Hailey clarifies.
‘Normal?’ I squeak.
‘Yes. She said that dead people go stiff and that One-Eyed Willy had been dead for a long time.’
‘Oi . . . You guys!’ Kerry admonishes.
‘The Goonies?’ I ask with relief. ‘She let you watchThe Goonies.’ My voice is explanatory as I meet Ed’s relieved face, while Mum returns the disinfectant to the cupboard under the sink with an audible breath of relief.
Dad joins us at the table.
‘So, will she?’ Oscar asks again. ‘Go to hell?’
‘No, love.’ Mum puts her hands on Dad’s shoulders and kisses his bald spot. ‘Your Aunt Kerry will be dancing with the angels in heaven.’
‘Aunty Kerry said that there is no heaven and hell and that is what grown-ups say so we behave.’ Hailey dips her flapjack into her milk. ‘I think Aunty Kerry is a tooth fairy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Aunty Kerry was clever and the tooth fairy is way better than an angel.’
‘Why?’ Oscar asks, his mouth full, the contents exposed.
‘Because they’re rich, silly.’
I follow insomnia into the kitchen like an awkward friend. Kerry is sitting at the kitchen table, blowing the rim of her cup of Horlicks.
Why are you drinking that? I ask, turning my back on her and filling up the kettle. You hate Horlicks.
‘I hate to break it to you, Jen, but I’m not actually here. Maybe it’s you who wants some Horlicks?’ I pause and consider this. Is that what’s happening? Are my memories of Kerry mingling with what I want to see and hear? I shake my head. Insomnia laughs at me . . . Do you really think cutting out caffeine is going to stop me? My hand reaches for the tub and spoons some into my cup. My legs take me to the table where I try to sit, quietly massaging my temples.
‘Why did you save me, Kerry? Why am I still here?’
I close my eyes, fold my arms on the table and rest my head against them. I’m deep in sleep when my phone rings: red coat, red boots, silver nails, emerald ring. The images begin to fade as I try to order my thoughts, the way I used to before she died. What day is it? It’s Thursday. What time is it? Nessa’s number blinks on the screen beneath the time, which reads 12:45am. I rotate my neck and lock myself into the downstairs toilet, answering in hushed tones.
‘Hello?’
‘Aunty Jen?’ Erica’s voice is quiet and scared.
‘Erica, sweetie? What is it, are you OK?’
