Completely still in the
Daytime
She’s been asleep for days, she thinks, or maybe weeks.
And Mary still feels tired.
Mary trudges on.
The sand beneath looks more like muck and
she has to work her way round rubbish, bits of bark, scrap metal.
Mary reaches the edge of the sea.
Mary watches the sea water – it’s filthy.
She wonders if she could dissolve into the sea.
Like all the bits of sewage do, all the waste – no one would
notice.
It’s been years since anyone swam in this water.
But Mary’s attention is caught by something.
Her head flicks to one side.
Staring up at her, like a rodent.
A pair of eyes.
Familiar eyes – she thinks, she’s not sure – but then she
recognises those buck teeth.
She smiles.
Miriam’s head – wires and guts pouring out of her neck.
Mary watches it for a moment.
Then looks around, makes sure no one else is watching.
Mary pulls a bag out of her pocket – it’s plastic and it says Lidl
on it.
She picks up the head and places it inside.
There are wires strewn around and she gathers them up as well,
stuffs them into the bag.
Mary keeps searching.
–
Mary is sewing.
It’s late, later.
Sewing calms her completely.
Each stitch is little relief, relaxes her bones.
So Mary sews in front of the TV (still broken).
Mary sews in the garden (when it’s sunny).
Mary sews at the kitchen table.
Every now and then she goes to the freezer, defrosts something
for herself, and then it’s back to sewing.
Mary sews in bed.
It gives her a chance to make plans.
Mary will probably wind down her teaching work.
Mary could look for another partner.
Mary might move house.
Stitch after stitch, Mary keeps going.
And Mary looks down at her handiwork.
She’s proud of it.
–
Mary stands, stretches her body out.
Early morning
She walks around, takes a quick break, maybe she goes down to
the beach again.
Maybe she goes out to pick up supplies.
But whenever she’s not sewing, it’s all she can do to think
of sewing.
She gets nervous when she’s not.
Mary fidgets.
Mary keeps sewing.
It’s becoming an obsession.
She’s connecting all the pieces together.
It’s taking her days, maybe it’s taking her weeks.
Mary keeps sewing.
Until, she thinks, finally.
Finally, thinks she might be finished sewing.
Mary looks down at her work.
She is dead proud.
Mary lets a huge smile spread across her face.
On the table in front of her, perfectly whole and complete, is
Miriam.
All Miriam’s different limbs, body parts, wires, everything.
It has all been sewn back together and Mary smiles down at her
rebuilt daughter.
Mary smiles so much her buck teeth show.
–
Mary sleeps.
Witching hour.
She’s in her bedroom.
There’s a bang from downstairs, and Mary is woken up,
startled.
She listens out: again: a bang.
She’s terrified, for a moment.
But there’s only one person it could be.
Charley.
Another bang.
Mary calls out: CHARLEY?!
Silence for a moment, then another bang.
Jesus wept, Mary stands.
Mary scratches at her eyes, which hang half-open.
Another bang – from the kitchen.
Mary follows the sound.
In the kitchen is a figure, half-lit by the moonlight.
Charley?
What are you –
Like she doesn’t hear a thing.
Mary hovers.
And the fridge is open so Mary goes to shut it but –
Her toe catches something – it’s a wire, stranded on the floor.
Mary looks down: it’s not just one wire, it’s a mass of them, and
they writhe across the floor, a trail leading to –
Miriam.
With wires dripping out of her skin.
Miriam, alive, naked, breathing, standing right in front of her.
Miriam turns around.
Mary’s dumb.
Just for that moment – nothing crosses her mind.
Nothing, until the moonlight snaps her out of it and
Mary holds out her arms, approaches Miriam, and Miriam
doesn’t resist, she doesn’t flinch – so Mary is able to feel and
clutch onto and hold her daughter like never before.
Mary squeeeeezes Miriam into the tightest hug.
They are Play-Doh together.
And Miriam feels perfect in her arms, fits perfectly in her arms.
Mary starts humming.
Miriam starts to giggle.
Mary hums louder.
Mary cradles Miriam.
Charley-bit-bitter, age-old
weary grump, sat lonesome
in torment and gave me
the hump
So cow-big-bigger, with a
slumping fat teet, wormed
on over and crushed her
small feet
And bird-small-smaller, with
hard sharp beak, pecked
at her skin, all flaking
and weak
While pig-pork-porker, tail curled,
belly fat, nuzzled
a fat nose up and inside
her twat
But Mary-joy-joyer, holding
on tight, clutched hard to
my darling and squealed
with delight
Do you like that, Miriam?
I can hear Miriam’s joyful giggle so don’t need an answer.
Mary smiles.
And she is so happy.
She is so happy.
–
–
–
–