K/ Soiled Hands

That day stains my memory like brown blood on a concrete tile. It
was my daughter Laura's birthday, she was ten.

"Click click!" I hear those hollow words reverberating around my head
again. I had tried to cheer Laura up by imitating a photo shoot. I had
dropped the camera earlier that week which meant we could take no
pictures of her special day. I could improvise though. "I've taken one
and it'll be locked inside my memory forever&;#8230; the day Laura
turned 10!"

If I close my eyes, I can still see that picture now. In my head I see
a dull room. It is bright sunshine outside but we had shut the blinds
so the candlelight on the cake would show up. There is a table in the
centre with two children and my wife sitting around it. They are frozen
images; mouths open singing happy birthday. There is a third child. She
is not happy like the others. Her mouth is clenched shut and curled
down at the edges, I know she wants to cry. Her eyes are staring at
something but I cannot follow her gaze to find out what. They are fixed
like those of a dead animal.

My mind wanders to another day back when Laura was two. It is sunny
again and we are in a child's playground. I glance up at the sky and
see wisps of white floating by like cotton wool amongst the deep blue.
The laughter and happy shrieks of children surround me. Suddenly
someone is crying. I look across to Laura who is standing by the
toddler's slide. Her pink dungarees are wet and there is a puddle at
her feet.

"Laura! Why couldn't you have waited?!" I am shouting. Anger and
embarrassment pump through my veins as mothers look on. I smack Laura
on the arm and she begins to cry harder. "You're supposed to tell me
when you need a wee aren't you?"

"Poor love&;#8230; she's only little." An old woman speaks up
through the disapproving whispers of others. I don't know what to say.
I lift Laura into my arms and walk away; fuming from the nerve she has
to undermine my authority as a parent. At the same time I feel foolish
and small. Am I a bad father?

Slowly I drift away from my thoughts. I have tried to make some sense
of the events running up to Laura's 10th birthday. I file through my
memories meticulously in the hope that everything will fall into place.
Maybe if I can better understand I will be able to try and deal with
it; to scramble out of this sticky bed and take a shower. I turn
heavily onto my side.

*

"Hi love&;#8230;" I whispered pulling off my tie and beginning to
unbutton my shirt.

"You're late back." My wife Sarah yawned as she rolled over in the
bed.

"Yea, the meal went on longer than I had expected." I had been to my
boss's leaving do that evening.

I finished undressing and got in beside her. The sheets smelt fresh and
clean. I began to drift to sleep almost immediately, my eyes flickering
shut as I melted into the silence.

"Oh Mike?" Sarah's words seemed to eat harshly into the serenity. I
grunted.
"There's a note on the side from Laura&;#8230; I couldn't make any
sense of it." She sighed. "She was moping around all day and I heard
her sobbing in her room again&;#8230; I don't know what's going on
with that child."

My heart fell. I fumbled for the bedside lamp switch and then took the
piece of writing paper in my hand. There were words and symbols
scrawled onto it in pencil.

'To Daddy.' I read. 'I had lots of bad thoughts today. Please don't be
angry at me. I have written them down on this paper here. I hope you
won't be angry at me. I am very sorry. I love you loads and loads and
loads. Here are the bad thoughts:'

I didn't bother to attempt to distinguish the meaning behind what she
had written. I had tried before and they never made much sense. Instead
my eyes scanned the note briefly and then replaced it, flicking off the
switch to plunge the room into darkness yet again.

"Night love." I managed to articulate before falling into a deep
sleep.

*

I heard the loud knock at the bedroom door several times before
engaging it. For a few moments it became an extension to my dream until
I stirred from my sleep realising that the noise was persisting.

"Mmmmm?" I groaned rubbing my eyes.

"C&;#8230; can I come in?" A mousy voice replied. It was edged with
fear&;#8230; probably in apprehension of my reaction.

"If you must." I pulled myself up, leaning my back against the head of
the bed. Looking at the clock, I could see it was only 6 am. This was
the last thing I wanted after the late night. I knew what was to
come.

"Did Sarah give you the note?" I looked at the small child standing at
the doorway in her Mickey Mouse pyjamas. She was shaking and I could
see she had dark rings around her eyes. Her shoulder length brown hair
was matted with sweat and her cheeks were flushed.

"Yea she gave it to me Laura." My voice remained hard. I felt no
sympathy for her at this time in the morning.

"Did you read it?" Her voice quivered slightly as if she was on the
verge of tears. She shifted from one bare foot to the other, her hands
winding around one another nervously.

"I read it." I was frustrated and tired, my voice showed it. I knew
that she was searching for some kind of reassurance but I wasn't going
to allow her this. I watched as a single tear trickled hotly down her
cheek. I could almost hear it sizzle into the carpet as it dropped. She
turned slowly and padded out of the room, shutting the door softly as
she left.

Now wide-awake I reached for the note again. Laura was draining me- I
did not know what to do with her. She was the eldest of my three
daughters and had always been a nervous child. She was quieter than the
others and a deep thinker. For some reason she had a tendency to
confess anything to me that she perceived as wrong. At first this
hadn't bothered me. After all, I thought it a blessing to have such an
honest child. However, since the loss of Jenny it had become excessive.
She would confess tiny details such as accidentally touching food with
dirty hands. She would also confess her thoughts in the fear that I was
going to reprimand her for them. It was now obsessive and she couldn't
get through the day without this ritual.

"Go back to sleep&;#8230;." My wife slurred bringing me out of my
thoughts. "You shouldn't be up at this hour."

She was right. Again I put the note back and drifted off to
sleep.

*

I knew something was wrong when I saw the girls huddled up on the
stairs. I put my briefcase down and shut the front door.

"What's going on?" I glanced at the solemn faces staring back at me.
Rebecca, the youngest was crying. "Where are Laura and Mum?" I
demanded, my voice becoming heated. They sensed my annoyance and
huddled closer together.

"Mum's really angry Dad&;#8230; with Laura again cos she's been
washing her hands and crying all day." The oldest blurted out looking
up at me, her eyes large and glistening. "She said she's not putting up
with it anymore and Laura has to pull herself together cos she's not
making things easy for anyone." She stifled Rebecca's cry telling her
to keep quiet.

"Where are they?" I spoke softly in an attempt to maintain composure. I
had to keep things under control. Sarah was my second wife and did not
deal well with Laura's behaviour. Sometimes it seemed that she was
resentful of the time I spent talking to her. She hadn't had children
in her previous relationship and so this was a big step for her. Laura
had always been very close to Jenny, my previous wife. She had
retreated further into herself during the last four years since Jenny's
death in the car accident. The other two had been too young to remember
much about her but I knew she was still in Laura's memory. I always
tried to encourage her to talk about her Mum but she avoided the
subject.

"Laura's in her room and Mum's in hers&;#8230;"

I went up to Laura's room and opened the door. She was in a state. Her
eyes were red and puffy and her face gleamed wet like Clingfilm. Her
cries had turned into short, sharp hiccups, her body shuddering with
each one. I glared at her but overwhelmingly wanted to scoop her into
my arms. I had to withhold myself. I hated to see her this way but I
knew she had to learn. For years I had allowed her to continue and was
always prepared to listen to her. Yet she wasn't getting any better.
She had to learn that what she was doing was unnecessary. If I
continued to listen to her confessions as if they were important, she
would keep telling me them thinking that I needed to hear.

I sat down on her bed and took hold of her limp hands, bringing them
towards me. I gasped for effect as I saw them. They were chapped raw
and bleeding.

"You've been washing your hands too much again haven't you?" I raised
my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry!" She gurgled trying to pull them away.

"Why do you do it Laura?" I sighed, looking painfully at my daughter.
My expression was softening. "Why do you insist on washing your hands
every second of the day? I don't understand it."

"I don't know&;#8230; I &;#8230;I just get worried all the time
and I fink all these bad thoughts in my head and then I worry you'll be
angry with me so I feel I have to tell you them&;#8230;." She took a
deep breath. "&;#8230;an I always worry that my hands are dirty an I
might make other things dirty if I don't wash them&;#8230;" Her face
was red and she was trying to avoid eye contact as best she
could.

My eyes began to prickle with water but I gulped back the tears. All I
wanted was for her to be happy like the others yet her behaviour was
becoming more disturbing. Sarah had suggested taking Laura to a child
psychiatrist but I had dismissed the idea immediately. I didn't think
it was healthy for her at such a young age. I'd assured Sarah that it
was just a phase and she would grow out of it sooner or later. In the
mean time I could handle it.

I reached forwards and put my arms around Laura burying her head into
my shirt. She kept her arms rigid to avoid touching me.

"I've told you so many times before&;#8230;" Again I gulped back the
tears. "You really don't need to worry about any of this stuff.
Everyone has bad thoughts- even I do." I felt my shirt becoming wet as
she cried silently into it. "I wouldn't tell you my thoughts would I?
And you don't need to tell me yours&;#8230;they're like tiny grains
of sand on a beach. They don't matter."

She moved her head away from my chest. "But what if I think a really,
really bad thought?"

"It doesn't matter&;#8230; we can't control what we think can we?
You just have to try and forget them and not worry. Please try for
me?"

She sat up straight for a moment and forced a smile. Then her face
dropped again as if suddenly remembering something.

"B&;#8230;but what if something bad happens? What if something bad
happens cos of my thoughts or cos of not washing my hands? You'd be
angry with me then wouldn't you?" She looked up at me fearfully.

"No." I became stern. She was no longer making sense. She hadn't
listened to me and the endless cycle was continuing. She had to grow
out of this and I had to be firm. We couldn't go on like this day after
day.

I felt her body weaken as she flopped helplessly onto the bed in fresh
tears.

"I wish I wasn't like this Dad!" She sobbed. "I just want to be happy
like other children and not worry all the time but I can't help it. I
always looked forward to being ten because then I thought all my
worries would go away&;#8230;" She pulled herself up and looked
accusingly at me. "You told be that I would grow out if it and
I&;#8230; and I believed you&;#8230; but I'm 10 tomorrow Dad and
I'm still the same! I'll never be normal!" She spat out the words in
despair.

"You will grow out of it love." I sighed. "It may not happen
immediately but it will happen&;#8230; one day you'll look back on
this and wonder what all the fuss was about. I promise you."

*

I try to prevent my mind from going any further. I don't want to think
any more, I just want to sleep and never wake up. I look across at
Sarah. Her breathing is laboured and she is flinching restlessly. I
know that I can no longer comfort her. After that day, our words to
each other became empty and distant. Now I feel I am watching her from
behind a glass panel.

I desperately need water but the thought of getting it makes my stomach
lurch. All I want to do is to lie here in the darkness; I cannot face
the glare of light that would welcome me upon leaving this room.
Unconsciously I allow my mind to drift again&;#8230; I hear the
high-pitched ring of Happy Birthday in my head&;#8230;

*

"I've taken one and it'll be locked inside my memory forever&;#8230;
the day Laura turned 10!" I looked around the table, mentally sketching
the scene into my brain as we sang Happy Birthday. I watched as Laura
half- heartedly blew out the candles and then I opened the
blinds.

"Aren't you going to eat something Laura?" Sarah asked as I sat down
again. She had cut her a slice of chocolate cake and was holding it out
towards her on a plate. The other girls were chatting and giggling
excitedly as they waited for their slices. "I made it
especially&;#8230; it's your favourite!"

I looked across at Laura hopefully. I just wanted her to enjoy today
without worrying and more than anything I wanted her and Sarah to get
along. Sarah was trying so hard. My heart fell as Laura shook her head,
her eyes clouding over with tears. Her face was pale as dust.

"No thanks." She whispered.

Sarah's jaw tightened and she slammed the plate back down onto the
table. The action provoked a tear to slide down Laura's face.

"Fine."

I winced as Sarah spoke, trying to catch her eye to tell her to calm
down.

"Let's forget your birthday shall we." She said with finality.

"Leave it Sarah." I urged. The other girls were now silent sensing the
tension in the room. They were sitting still as dolls, suppressing any
movement that would draw them unwanted attention. I watched Laura's
face crumple like paper as she got down from her chair and walked
out.

*

I open my eyes with a start. I don't want to see anymore of this. My
clothes feel sticky- I realise I have not changed them in weeks. The
room smells like rotting feet. I pull myself up and move sluggishly
towards the window to open it. The air outside is still and muggy as it
was that day, Laura's birthday. I allow my thoughts to slide back to
it&;#8230; I see myself reaching the open door&;#8230; hearing
the slow creak of the washing line as it heaves itself
around&;#8230; the soft rustle of leaves blown by the wheezing
breeze&;#8230; the metallic smell in the air wafting to my
nose&;#8230;

"Laura! Laura!" I am yelling. There is something slumped on the
concrete tiles in the back garden. I cannot focus my vision to see it
clearly. My legs collapse under me and I drag myself forwards; forwards
again and out through the back door. My mouth is dry and I gasp for air
through the oppressive heat. A small part of me knows that I am looking
at the body of my child. She is lying on the ground beneath her open
bedroom window. Yet at the same time I can no longer contemplate this
as reality. It seems I am watching from above through a pair of eyes
that are not my own. I can hear further screams coming from Sarah and
the girls but the noises are muffled due to the ringing in my ears. My
head begins to throb and I feel the ground disappear beneath me as I
see red blood.

*

I close my eyes again trying to block the image of that afternoon. I
try to recall how I was able to deal with Jenny's death in the hope
that it will help me&;#8230; the thought makes me want to
vomit.

In my mind I try to create a different scenario. I see myself waking up
on Laura's birthday and finding another note on my desk. Instead of
tossing it into the bin beside me, I open it up and read it all.
Suddenly everything falls into place; I know why Laura cannot get over
her problem. My eyes bleeding tears, I run to her room and lift her
from her bed and into my arms. She is already awake and shaking with
fear, her eyes staring like black holes.

"It's alright." I assure her, my voice thick with pain. "It's not your
fault, really it's not." I hug her closer and place my cheek against
hers. Her skin feels like ice. "We'll get this sorted, however long it
takes&;#8230; you and Daddy will work through this together, I
promise we will!" I feel her arms tighten around me as her hands cling
to my back.

Suddenly the image is gone like sugar through a sieve. I remember the
police handing me that unopened note. I feel I am wearing thick gloves
as I take it from them. I am unable to feel the paper against my
skin.

"We found this in the bin in your room." His voice sounds
amplified.

I open it. The words blur together as I attempt to read them:

'To Dad. There has always been a big worry on my mind but I was too
scared to ever tell you. It's the worst thing in the world and I knew
you would hate me if I said it. I hope you are not too mad at me but I
know you will be.

Dad, I killed Mum. I didn't mean to but it was my fault. I hadn't
washed my hands that day she went out in the car. I hugged her before
she left but I never washed my hands&;#8230;.'