Hey, it's been a while, but I'm back :)
The memories wouldn't leave me alone; my mother's fingertips - ice cold against my sweating palms, my shaky gasps of breath that accounted for the both of us, the panic in my voice in the absence of hers, the lady that stank of hospital, cleanliness and a false sense of importance, the room with glass walls and the cold cup of tea, the irrelevant questions, which only geared even less relevant answers, the patronising voices, their need to fake concern, the car that stank of hydrogen peroxide, the big house with an elm growing outside, the optimistic man with grey hair, the moody woman with dark braided hair. Couldn't they see I didn't want this? I wanted to die; I wanted to die with my mother. We'd walk through heaven together, peaceful at last. Some people said mummy would go to hell, they called her a liar, a cheat and a sinner; they were the real liars - that's what my mother had said anyway.
"Hi!" a Hispanic girl with dark hair secured in a low bun by a glittery, pink, rose shaped hair clip, almost jumped in my face, "I'm Carmen, what about you?" I blinked rapidly for a few moments, attempting to force my mind back into reality. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale- "what's your name?" she asked again, clearly dissatisfied with no response.
"Victoria," I finally replied. Exhale. "I'm Victoria Aubrey Hooper," I added and Carmen smiled at me, reaching her hand out, leaving me to reluctantly shake it whilst forcing the most convincing attempt a friendly smile I could muster.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll like it here Vicky," Carmen exclaimed, her speech overly animated to the point I felt as if I should be more focused on her extravagant hand gestures rather than the words coming out of her mouth, "Can I call you Vicky?"
"No," I muttered. Her face instantly fell and I watched as her lips parted, ready to spring me with another over excited excuse for a statement, "my name is Victoria; why would you call me anything else?"
My question was rhetorical, yet she answered it regardless, "it's short for Victoria, easier to say, you know?" she giggled a little and I felt compelled to force my face into a mediocre excuse for a smile, "Aubrey's a weird name though; it's like a grandma name," she laughed once more, but this time I didn't even try to smile.
"It was my mother's name," my statement was blunt and obvious, that's how everyone should speak; I'm fed up of sarcasm, irony, patronising tones and liars.
"I'm sorry," Carmen's tone of voice finally dropped to a more sorrowful one. Thank goodness; her optimism was unbearable. "Was?" she questioned, a look of actual interest and concern in her eyes - that's a first.
"My mother," I paused for a moment; Carmen didn't need to know, no one needed to know, yet I still felt compelled to tell them, it felt better when I did, yet I hadn't a clue as to why, "she died," the words even felt unreal as they felt off my tongue, as if today was just a dream, fiction, a deranged fantasy. I wanted to wake up, I wanted to wake up now.
I wanted to groan and complain at the piercing beeps of my alarm clock. I wanted to draw the curtains and watch the sun begin it's ascent into the sky. I wanted to get dressed into my school uniform. I wanted to eat breakfast, toast and fried egg. I wanted to go to the bathroom, without her body laying there, motionless, lifeless. I wanted her to be still asleep, maybe even awake, maybe even there to watch me catch the bus to school, but things hadn't happened like that for a long time now, not since daddy left. He'd left all of a sudden four years ago, when I was nine. I woke up once morning and he just wasn't there, mummy was moody and out of sorts for a while after that, but she assured me he was alive. At least he was alive, much unlike mummy.
"I'm so sorry," Carmen's words brought me back to reality, she pulled her arms around me and I felt compelled to do the same, feeling extremely awkward until we finally parted.
"You didn't know," I mumbled, pulling nervously at the end of my navy school jumper.
"Do you want to come and meet the others?" she asked, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me down the hallway before I had the chance to respond.
Carmen dragged me into a room, with a pool table towards the back and a few sofas, surrounding a TV at the front. Carmen cleared her throat before announcing my existence to the other residents of the care home, which I hadn't cared enough to remember the name of, "everyone, this is Victoria, she's the new girl," everyone in the room, beside an older girl with blue highlights, who continued with her game of pool, seemingly utterly uninterested in me. All the attention was on me; this was precisely what I didn't want. Well done Carmen.