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CUCK, Dr Liam Macdowall

 

The Thirtieth Letter

Dear Bella,

Derek suggested I record a memory. This is my memory of the first time.

Your upper lip is gathered so tightly it’s turned an inhuman shade of green. The cup in your hand is filled with hot tea and has World’s Best Mum written on it. The light in the bathroom is still not working, and there are many other things I’ve not done, or done but badly, since seeing you last, and you’re telling me all of them, over and over, louder and louder, and my non-reaction, you tell me later, is why you throw the mug at me, hot tea and all, and I’m just standing there, like an ice man. I don’t stab you with the largest, jagged piece of cup, which now reads only World’s Best. I don’t yell or beg or dial 999 or run to the neighbours for help. What I do, I take one breath, then another, then I say I am taking time out. I do the sign for it, I’m taking time out, and you shout at me until I shut the door and breathe, and breathe, and walk alone. Well, not alone now because of you. The shame you have just started to poison me with: we take our first walk, she and I.