6. Concerned?
I know she understands. Her eyes are the gates to another Heaven. She must come closer. Closer…closer…closer. Stop! The deed is yet to be done! Ask her. She won’t mind. She would love it if you were honest. Just be yourself and tell her how you feel.
“I want to do it again.”
“Again? But why?”
“I just want to.”
She tries to refuse my kisses, but eventually gives in to my soft touches. I feel her angelic body, her stone white wings, press against my chest. She removes her top to reveal her breasts, soft and cold to the most sensitive of touches. I feel her hand, gleaming white light galore, caressing my trousers, urging me to take them off. She smiles at me- those hypnotising eyes. Her face forms the-
My eyes, once fixated on an angelic smile, are now hypnotised by the dire patterns on the ceiling. My bedroom, suffering from years of repainting, is like my own personal thinking box. But today I must abandon my own space of concentration and high intelligence for something meaningless and not saying much for my life.
I walk down the stairs; each delicate step is precious to me. By the time I make it to the kitchen, my mother is sitting down, trying to force a smile out of me. She kisses my forehead, the saliva making an eternal tattoo.
“Hi baby! I forgot to ask you, how was your session yesterday?”
“It was alright. I mean, it was just an introduction, but I think we’re getting there.”
“Dr. Greenway is a nice man. Isn’t he Robert?” I hesitate for a moment.
“Y-yes mum. Of course he is.” She hugs me and sends me to the living room.
I had to ask her about this “schizophrenia” nonsense. It must be some sort of joke or something. Besides, I never used to lie to my mother. We used to talk to each other all of the time…but seeing how my father had other ideas, our conversations dimmed, until the point where our voices resembled the type of squeal from a pig being gutted. But I am not to be that squealing pig- in my place is Mrs. Malone, whose supposed “meeting” about changes to our school NOT related to our education have made me have more doubts about my school than before. She wants to discuss “concerns” about the school, with about 50 other unlucky people, having to drag their parents through the double doors just for another meeting.
I was surprised my mother agreed to go through with this process again. I am even more surprised that I am actually going outside this weekend. Images of a not so distant future keep me entertained on weekends, and pictures of protest are the scorn of mankind. But really, there must be no point at all.
The front garden has no grass, no wildlife. Not even ants hang around here. Spiders webs, and kisses of solitude, prevent me from going back inside. The car in front of us is so old it makes Margaret Thatcher look like a beauty queen. Once we sit down, and drive off, I give out a yawn. This is going to be a long journey.
After 20 minutes of silence, we pull up at the car park. The tyres collide with the pavement like the ideal American family. I open the door to get out and the wind clashes with my hair. My mother, still hell-bent on wanting to “talk” to Dr. Greenway, rushes into the school hall. I pray to myself I don’t notice him, but I can’t always be right. Once we find a seat- my mother coughs impolitely- I look around for the slave of censorship himself. I find no-one. My mum touches me, with a smile, and directs me to Dr. Greenway. He smiles at her, but presumably at me too. I give no smile. He goes back to focusing to Mrs. Malone, her legs slim and soft to the touch.
“You may be wondering…why I have brought you all here. Well, I have the most tragic of news to tell you all. One of our students, Caroline Smith, has gone missing. The police are undergoing an investigation as to where she might be, and why she is missing. I urge all of your children to keep calm. The police have everything under control, as does the school. Prepare for the worst, as I am doing right now. Please don’t panic: if she has been abducted we will find this scum and find Caroline.”
For the first time in a year, my heart sank. I felt powerless. Caroline, the girl who frequently appeared in my drawings, has just disappeared. She’s gone. She has just disappeared. Something must be up. Someone must have loved her more than I did. I sit up, intrigued by what I just heard, as the murmurs die down. Once I sit up, I feel like vomiting. A part of me had been destroyed. Someone loves her more than me.
Or maybe she didn’t get abducted. Maybe she ran away. Maybe she knew about my obsessions. She must’ve read me like a book. She knew something.
Perhaps someone told her. Of course! Katie Barker, that wholesome and innocent flower, must’ve told her everything. Katie is no angel or sweetheart. She’s just been posing under a mask of purity all this time. But, then again, maybe she chose to get away. I would love the chance to get away from this pig pen, one such pig pen infected with swine flu and moral conscience.
Dr. Greenway walks out. All the teachers follow him like brainwashed bodyguards. I stand up, with my mother looking extremely anxious. She holds my cheeks and as she tries to kiss me, I resist her show of affection.
“What’s wrong,” she asks. “Mrs. Malone said don’t panic. Are you scared Robert? If you are, then you can tell me.” After a moment of deciding whether or not to be perfectly honest, whether or not I actually tell my mother the truth, I eliminate her fears, even if it doesn’t eliminate mine.
“No mum. Everything is fine.”
