Young Writers Society

[I fixed that big plot hole, and this project is rolling again Soon I'll edit and put up the updated versions of the previous seven chapters. The timeline is still pretty nonsensical, but that's my next task to work on. It may mean shuffling chapters around a little.]

That night Henri slept straight through until morning, when she started hammering on my stomach to wake me up fifteen minutes before the alarm.

She scowled because I wasn’t fast enough at making breakfast, and I scolded her for spilling milk. At first she seemed upset until, in rebellion, she slurped the entire bowl of Cheapsy’s Oat Hoops.

Slurping was the bane of patience. It’s the kind of thing that irritates you, and no matter how hard you try to ignore it or bare with it, nothing can block out the sound. Henri knew it too.

In the end I took my bowl into my bedroom, crossed my legs in the middle of the bed and looked down at the hoops bobbing in the milk.

Allow me to ramble a little. In the story of my life there is a list of things that stand as giant markers of important times in your life. I guess it’s the same with everyone. The name of your first idol, the song that you played on repeat for hours, that time you cried, and that time you didn’t, moments that seem to capture your life in a single frame. For me, hiding in my bedroom- surrounded by a melancholy cloud- while watching hoops of oaty goodness drown in a pool of sugary milk, was one of moments. It told me that things now were different than things before.

After I had sat for a time in my comfortably depressive state, I lifted my head to the pale morning light outside my window and laughed aloud at myself. I thought, to anyone reading that story of my life, I must have looked like a kitten just tumbled in from the rain. No irony intended.

Before Henri everything was neat and planned out. Now everything was chaotic. Acting as a singly parent was getting harder and harder as the days passed by, and temporary measures and quick fixes were falling apart like the souls of Henri’s shoes. It wasn’t as horrifying as I had first thought it would be. Henri opened my eyes to a world that lay beyond order.

After realising that the only places she knew were school, home, and the train station, we started to go out on occasions. I took her to the playground that I had spent so many hours in. Visiting it with Henri brought a new light to the place.

You know those stalls on the roadside? They sell ice-cream. Did you know they sell donuts too? There’s a little place down by the Koala Café where we buy pancakes and ice-cream on Sundays, from a boy called Sid with long hair, who Henri likes to talk to. I think perhaps because he reminds her of Sinbad. Then there’s markets. I would always prefer the neat, stacked shelves of a supermarket, but the best bread I ever tasted came from a stall on the south east corner of the market. It also cost half as much.

Life was hard, but having Henri by my side was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Each night I didn’t lull myself into a tea induced sleep, but instead fell down onto my covers in exhaustion. To be honest, it’s like when you really need to use the bathroom on long journeys, and hold it in for hours. The relief you feel afterwards is amazing.

There’s no better sleep than the one after you’ve had an attention-deprived five year old run you into exhaustion.

One night she came to my room when I had half-fallen into sleep. Her talk of monsters and bad dreams, concluded by a complaint of falling off the couch several times in the night.

I rolled off the bed to force myself up, went to the living room and pulled the cushions off the couch onto the floor. Lower bed, less space to fall.

When I went back she was already lying in by bed, snuggling her own blanket while getting herself comfy under mine.

‘Henri,’ I scowled. ‘That’s my bed. Move.’

She shook her head and closed her eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if that was her plan all along, but when I picked her up she grabbed my blanket and dragged it with her. ‘Please?’ I said softly. She fell completely limp, except for her hand which tightly gripped the edges. I was too tired to argue, and in the end climbed back in bed in hope I could tickle and annoy her until she left.

Seeing her though, lying so sweetly, I ended up tucking her in instead. Once I had settled she moved closer and grabbed my arm. I was to be her make-shift teddy bear.

There was something nice about falling asleep feeling the warmth of someone else beside me without any form of sexual connotation, if that doesn’t sound too perverse. It was something I could get used to.

I also found out that sometimes when I snore it sounds a bit like I’m singing in my sleep- according to Henri.