I find one of
Terry’s old phones hidden
at the back of his wardrobe
and watch
through films I helped make.
Pan shot of the living room:
TV, sofa and sideboard.
A normal enough flat until
there’s the
zoom shot of Mum screaming –
then
cut to
Terry laughing and kicking,
his fists flying
and
my
voiceover saying quietly,
‘Please stop, Terry.
Please stop.’
Finally it
fades out.
He’s telling Mum
what set him off,
and she’s saying sorry
again
and again
and again.
My finger hovers over the delete button,
but I don’t do it.
I can’t.
I put the camera back in its hiding place
and
go out to look for Nicu,
who isn’t anywhere.
He can’t always be there
and I shouldn’t
expect him to be.