My Dinosaur Era Epilogue 2.0
By beanzie
- 104 reads
mum died six weeks after our visit
abdominal aortic aneurysm
her neighbour found her
sprawled out on the bathroom floor
they say it would have been really sudden
just lights out
I travelled up to the house with petula
michelle was already there
we hugged briefly
so light that it felt like a shadow
petula next to me
michelle looked at her, bemused
michelle, this is petula, petula, my sister, michelle
hello, nice to meet you
michelle looked at me
her eyes said
where the hell did she come from?
I smile, she shuffled me into the kitchen
petula sat on a sofa
where the hell did she come from?
I laughed
what’s so funny?
your face, incredulous, like the impossible notion that I may have a woman in my life
it’s not that she's a woman, tim, it’s that she seems normal
you can tell that from just saying hello?
no, I suppose not
she is normal, well, as normal as me anyway
how did you meet her?
I thought to try and answer honestly
how did I meet her?
I wanted to say that it’s a long story
she’s a friend of ginny’s
who’s ginny?
my best friend for the last decade
oh, right, maybe you’ve mentioned her before
I hadn’t
we are floating around in space
oblivious to each other
out of the same parents
diverging hard ever since
she’s pretty
yes, she is
is petula her real name?
I don’t actually know
you’ve never asked?
no
we stood in the kitchen drinking tea
the silence so deep
the house so devoid of spirit
five foot mum had filled the place
this giant house
with rooms I have never entered
that we didn’t even grow up in
a far cry from the housing association flat
the cement works one side
a mechanic clanking away on the other
the ferocious alsatian that guarded the alley
I said goodbye to michelle
she hugged petula this time
we sat in patrycja’s van
the engine off
the silence followed us
are you ok, timmy?
yeah, I think so, it’s different to when dad died
why’s that?
maybe because this is the actual end, like when dad went, there was still mum and how her life would be after, but now this is it, there are no more chapters for them now
I started the engine
pulled away down a hedge lined road
turned left at the sign for brighton
we joined the main road
I looked over at petula
can I ask you something?
of course, timmy
is petula your real name?
you are funny
why?
what a time to ask
oh right, yeah, I guess
yes it is my real name
not that it matters
the winter came
living in the van in england was cold
ginny took a leave of absence from work
the hotel glad of the wage relief throughout january
her and patrycja took the ferry back to bilbao
stayed a few days there
drove all the way down to near cadiz
they sent photos from their seventeen degree coast
we replied with ones of ours draped in snow
for a while, for months
I wondered if one day it would all end
that I might wake up on an unremarkable tuesday
to the news that someone else had died
that the van wasn’t coming back
or that no one loved me anymore
those days never came
our odd way of living felt good
sometimes we would swap around a bit
me and ginny went to margate one weekend
she showed me where she used to live
we walked along sandy beaches
watched a cormorant spread its wings to dry
another time patrycja took petula away
with petula’s mum
a jolly down to dorset for her sixty fifth birthday
me and ginny back at the flat
sat up in bed reading books we had ignored
swapping out brandy coffees for the odd green tea
still going to the pub for a beer
though it stopped having the pull it once did
three pints and home
the flat was small when we were all together
we dreamed of buying a house
spread ourselves out a little more
some old higgledy-piggledy half wreck
one we could do up ourselves
I still thought of jane in these times
how she would have loved being here with us
offering everyone biscuits
making us laugh
with her refusal to engage with the modern world
each year on her birthday
me and ginny buy bourbon creams
we sit in the shelter that you could see
from her old window
a flask of coffee wedged between us
we salute the sea that you could see
from her old window
we munch on the biscuits
let the crumbs stick in our teeth
then slug coffee that washes them away
our gloved hands hold each other tight
as the wind blows through the old pier
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