The A to Z of You and Me

P

Palm

SLIP AND SLAP of footsteps on the stairs. Bedroom door cracks open as my mum comes in.

I was awake anyway. I’m here where she left me, in bed, in my best church clothes.

It’s dark now.

She reaches down by my bedside table and squeezes the switch to turn the lamp on. She twists it quickly to the wall. Keeps it low.

The house has been silent since the last of the mourners left, and since Laura slammed her bedroom door in tears.

Mum sits on the side of the mattress, and I slide involuntarily into the dip.

She quietly raises her hand and strokes my hair.

‘How you doing, bab?’

I don’t say anything. I tighten the curl of my body around where she’s sitting, the warmth sealed between us. I know I don’t need to say anything. I know she understands.

‘Brave little soldier, aren’t you?’

I look up at her from where I’m lying. She’s still got her posh earrings in.

‘Are you OK, Mum?’

She looks down at me, but doesn’t answer straight away. She’s exhausted. It’s the first time I’ve ever noticed tiredness in her face, though it can’t be the first time, of course.

‘I’ll be fine, sweetheart. We’ll get through, you and me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Listen, you don’t have to go back to school until you feel ready. Everyone understands you’ll want to take your time.’

I frown into the low light. ‘I want to go tomorrow.’

‘We’ll take a few days to — to think about your dad.’

‘They’ll think I’m silly.’

‘No one will think that, bab.’

‘I want to go and be like every day.’

Mum falls quiet for a moment, and sighs heavily. ‘OK. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.’

‘OK.’

She smiles down at me. ‘You’re the man of the house now, eh?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Your dad was so proud of you, you know.’

‘He’d want me to go to school,’ I say, and return to looking across the low-lit room. She carries on lightly stroking my hair, before her hand slows, and finally ceases, resting on the back of my head.

‘Palm of calm,’ she says. ‘Can you feel my fingertips taking out all the worry and sadness? And can you feel the palm is pushing in warmth and love and happiness and peace? Can you feel it happening?’

I can feel it. I’m sure I can.

‘Palm of calm,’ she says to me.

I could do with a palm of calm now. The world is beginning to swirl around me. I can’t remember the last time I felt normal. What is normal any more? I imagine my mum’s palm on the back of my head. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel it.

Or your hand.

Your hand in mine.

My hand in yours.

Palms pulsing together.

An anchor — you and me drifting hand-in-hand through the world.

It’s the toxins. Karen said the massage could release toxins into my blood. The last thing I need is more toxins.

And the face: the face at the window has got me unsettled.

I’m vulnerable. I see that now. It’s like my body just needs to be started off, and it stays pumped full of adrenaline. Anxiety. Panic.

Sheila’s right, I have a panic-shaped hole in the middle. Fill it full of anything.