Chapter Two of Changeling
Nov. 1st, 2008 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanSomebody on the local freecycle list is offering used nipples.
They mean for baby bottles. I checked.
Dinner that night was dried-out pork chops and mushy vegetables. I reflected that it was nice to know that in over 30 years my mother's cooking hadn't changed at all.
Except it hadn't been 30 years. It had only been 14.
My sister spent most of dinner nattering about some guy at school who was giving her a hard time. I kept picturing the skinny pre-adolescent in front of me with children of her own; tall gangly blonds who call her "little mama" and make CDs for me of their favourite music. I could picture their faces more clearly than the ones in front of me, but I couldn't remember what a CD was no matter how hard I tried.
After dinner they sat around and watched M*A*S*H and Laverne and Shirley on the television. I told them what was going to happen next until they shouted at me. Then I got up and wandered around the house poking at everything I found until they shouted at me again. I was fascinated by the telephone. It had a rotary dial and I couldn't stop myself from putting my fingers in the hole and spinning the dial, listening the series of clicks through the handset. I couldn't for the life of me imagine a phone that worked any other way, but for some reason it still felt like a novelty.
After I was threatened with a grim fate if I didn't stop arsing around and let everybody watch their television in peace, I contented myself with sitting on the floor and looking through all the books in the bookcase. I found The Exorcist and Jaws and Trinity. I made a game of trying to remember the endings and then rifling through the last pages of the book to see if I was right. I was running 100% when they finally chased me off to bed.
That night I dreamt that was building a staircase on top of the house. There was a hole in the sky and strange figures were reaching down towards me; people with black lips and nails and brightly-coloured hair. They were waving at me, urging me upwards while I frantically hammered more stairs together and scrambled slowly upward. Something large and invisible and terrifying was behind me and I could feel it gaining on me while they shouted at me to hurry. I felt something close around me, and when I abruptly woke up to the white walls of my room I burst into tears.
.........................
That morning my mother announced that I was obviously well enough to go back to school and I decided I could probably figure out what it was that had been chasing me through my dreams. After a few minutes of contemplation another problem occurred to me.
"Um. Which school do I go to now?"
My mpther eyed me suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
I counted off on my fingers. "Well I used to go to Birch Cliff. I don't think that's the one, because I'm too old for that now. And then there was Jackman. And Oak Park. And East York Collegiate. And there were those awful prep schools, but I don't think that's happened yet. So it's one of the other three, definitely."
I looked up at her, still holding up my fingers. "Only I can't remember which one."
She was staring at me, trying to decide whether to be angry or worried. "Are you fooling around?" she asked me, "Because it's not funny."
"I'm not fooling around. I'll go... I just need to know where to go to."
"You go to Oak Park," said my sister. She pointed at me with the end of her cereal spoon. "You're in Grade 8."
"Thanks," I said to her. I pointed generally in the direction that I thought was west. "It's over that way, right?"
"Yep. Just walk straight along the road at the end of Barrington." She stuck her spoon back in her cereal and resumed crunching, secure in the knowledge that she knew exactly where she was supposed to be.
"Oh, give over, Yvonne." My mother decided to take refuge in anger. I shrugged and left the table. I had found some note books in my room that looked like they might have something to do with school. I scooped them up and and after a moment of thought, took some pens out of a cup in the kitchen.
I squared my shoulders. I was ready to go outside.
Gin count: Four. Also, olives are the food of the Gods.
They mean for baby bottles. I checked.
Dinner that night was dried-out pork chops and mushy vegetables. I reflected that it was nice to know that in over 30 years my mother's cooking hadn't changed at all.
Except it hadn't been 30 years. It had only been 14.
My sister spent most of dinner nattering about some guy at school who was giving her a hard time. I kept picturing the skinny pre-adolescent in front of me with children of her own; tall gangly blonds who call her "little mama" and make CDs for me of their favourite music. I could picture their faces more clearly than the ones in front of me, but I couldn't remember what a CD was no matter how hard I tried.
After dinner they sat around and watched M*A*S*H and Laverne and Shirley on the television. I told them what was going to happen next until they shouted at me. Then I got up and wandered around the house poking at everything I found until they shouted at me again. I was fascinated by the telephone. It had a rotary dial and I couldn't stop myself from putting my fingers in the hole and spinning the dial, listening the series of clicks through the handset. I couldn't for the life of me imagine a phone that worked any other way, but for some reason it still felt like a novelty.
After I was threatened with a grim fate if I didn't stop arsing around and let everybody watch their television in peace, I contented myself with sitting on the floor and looking through all the books in the bookcase. I found The Exorcist and Jaws and Trinity. I made a game of trying to remember the endings and then rifling through the last pages of the book to see if I was right. I was running 100% when they finally chased me off to bed.
That night I dreamt that was building a staircase on top of the house. There was a hole in the sky and strange figures were reaching down towards me; people with black lips and nails and brightly-coloured hair. They were waving at me, urging me upwards while I frantically hammered more stairs together and scrambled slowly upward. Something large and invisible and terrifying was behind me and I could feel it gaining on me while they shouted at me to hurry. I felt something close around me, and when I abruptly woke up to the white walls of my room I burst into tears.
That morning my mother announced that I was obviously well enough to go back to school and I decided I could probably figure out what it was that had been chasing me through my dreams. After a few minutes of contemplation another problem occurred to me.
"Um. Which school do I go to now?"
My mpther eyed me suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
I counted off on my fingers. "Well I used to go to Birch Cliff. I don't think that's the one, because I'm too old for that now. And then there was Jackman. And Oak Park. And East York Collegiate. And there were those awful prep schools, but I don't think that's happened yet. So it's one of the other three, definitely."
I looked up at her, still holding up my fingers. "Only I can't remember which one."
She was staring at me, trying to decide whether to be angry or worried. "Are you fooling around?" she asked me, "Because it's not funny."
"I'm not fooling around. I'll go... I just need to know where to go to."
"You go to Oak Park," said my sister. She pointed at me with the end of her cereal spoon. "You're in Grade 8."
"Thanks," I said to her. I pointed generally in the direction that I thought was west. "It's over that way, right?"
"Yep. Just walk straight along the road at the end of Barrington." She stuck her spoon back in her cereal and resumed crunching, secure in the knowledge that she knew exactly where she was supposed to be.
"Oh, give over, Yvonne." My mother decided to take refuge in anger. I shrugged and left the table. I had found some note books in my room that looked like they might have something to do with school. I scooped them up and and after a moment of thought, took some pens out of a cup in the kitchen.
I squared my shoulders. I was ready to go outside.
Gin count: Four. Also, olives are the food of the Gods.