Frozen

Donal reprimands Marla like a headmaster

scolding a disobedient student,

and between rebukes

he sighs,

as though conversation itself

is taxing.

I know you like cheese, Mum,

but it doesn’t go in the DVD player.

And what is this?

His voice is like a hedge trimmer –

loud, sharp, dangerous.

It could cut.

The downstairs toilet

is across the hall from the sitting room.

I crack open the door to see.

Donal is flourishing our feather boa.

Marla’s face is stone.

I’ve told you a hundred times to take it easy.

Last thing anyone needs is an accident.

I hope you haven’t been going out.

He paces the living room,

fishing for mistakes –

lifting oddities and jiggling them in her face.

Marla is as still as glass.

This is none of the Marlas I know.

This is someone pulled back

into herself.

As good as gone.

You’re sulking, he says,

prodding her arm with the remote control.

Why are you sulking?

What have I said?

For God’s sake, here we go.

A memory slithers back to me

and I watch, as frozen as she is.

I’m shattered, Marla mutters.

I’ve been up late these last nights.

And you don’t think I’m tired?

I’ve been at work all week

and this is my treat.

A mother who forgets who I am half the time.

Place a pigsty.

What are we paying Peggy for?

Was she even in today?

Not that you’d remember.

I know who you are, Donal, she croaks.

You do?

Brilliant.

Here’s a prize, he says,

and cuffs her on the arm

with the remote.

The present and past collide.

I slide the door shut,

slip on to the floor

and put my hands over my ears.