.Life.

2001-29 yrs old.

‘Don’t lie to me Kate, don’t make a stupid joke’.

‘I’m not lying, Fuhhhhhhhkkkkk! Who would lie about something like that!’

Tasha crumpled onto the bed, pumping her fists slowly, trying to control her breathing.

‘No…no..no..no, life’s not meant to be like this. Young people aren’t meant to die, not that way anyway’.

Kate sat down onto the bed, her voice sounded thick with emotion yet her breathing seemed controlled.

‘You know Tasha, when all of this is over and the grief has passed away, you’ll see the irony of all this….’

Tasha laughed softly,

‘I already do Kate, I already do…’

1998- 26 yrs old.

It was winter. Nothing moved, the air was crisp and soft laughter could be heard through the window as children imitated smokers with puffs of icy air and exaggerated hand movements. Tasha coughed and broke the muted noises. She sat sweating in a pile of thick wollen blankets her mother had sent, along with several containers of vegetable soup, homemade bread and beef stew. A reflection of her mother

’s firm belief in the ability of food and bed rest to quell any minor ailment. Music buzzed quietly in the background, her father holding the C.D jacket at arms length trying to make out the words which up close, where just a blur.

Tasha thought about how she should answer, she

’d talked to him last night, he’d been crying and she knew, she could even picture him rolling his hand rhythmically over his chin, just like their father. Her brother, Miles, handsome, 29, married and depressed. Life didn’t seem to be working out for him. For so many years he’d spent his life in University, studying whatever crossed his path. And now, after seven years of studying and university fees piled up, he’d met a woman. Fran, a flirtatious idiot, who five years his senior, had loose lips and even looser morals. Her three children could only be described as ‘problematic’ and her ex-husband ‘persistent’. Their father described her as ‘A path well trodden’.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the guilt. The lingering thoughts.

‘Ow no, not for awhile dad, I think he’s been a bit busy’.

Her father sat for awhile longer, taking in the silence.

‘I can’t understand…..I don’t know why…why won’t he speak to me?’

In these moments her father seemed like a child. The feelings of hurt looked so exposed on his face, it seemed as if he wasn

’t used to this emotion and couldn’t hide it, as if a bolt of pain, this emotion was one which couldn’t be disguised by another, it was raw, and unstoppable.

Tasha couldn

’t speak; her throat had suddenly become clammy. She coughed hoarsely.

Her brother sounded relaxed, a good sign.

‘Was everything okay last night…with the…ummm…kettle?’

Tasha knew that tone, the way the question had slowly slid of his tongue, it was embarrassment, hurt. He

’d known she was lying, but then again, who wouldn’t of?

Tasha thought for a second, if family relationships were meant to be uncomplicated, what was she getting herself into??

‘Miles…? Do you think family relationships should be uncomplicated…straightforward?’.

Tasha knew it was a stupid question, an ‘out of the blue’, something that didn’t need to be said, but she was sick of the deep and meaningful conversations constantly going on, it felt like her life was becoming one big drama. Some days she would sit to watch television, finding documentaries to tedious and confusing she’d often end up watching cartoons, something mindless, and something which didn’t make her think.

‘Well….I think, that yes, family should be complicated. Family means all the extra things that friendship could never provide. So therefore, complication just means that the family…I don’t know. Why do you think things are getting to complicated? It’s me, right? Me.’

‘Well no, well yes! This is exactly what I mean, I asked you simple question, and suddenly it is this big deal Miles! You’ve made it this big deal, when all I was asking was one stupid innocent question!’

‘I didn’t know…’

‘I have to go okay? Just, I have to go.’

Tasha hung up, not waiting for a goodbye or an excuse.

 

 

‘Do you think he’ll be okay?’

Tasha sat thoughtfully and drew the life slowly out of a cigarette.

‘I don’t like to think Kate, I just like to assume’.

Kate screwed up her nose and stared resentfully at the cigarette in Tasha’s hand.

‘Natasha, I thought you said you’d quit’.

‘That was to mum and dad, anyway I’m sick I need these little comforts in life’.

‘That’s only going to make you feel even worse’.

Tasha nodded and stubbed the cigarette out.

‘Okay Captain Planet, but we are getting a little side tracked here’.

Kate sighed and leant back in the chair, she stroked her forehead softly and slowly, trying to conjure up some kind of answer through static electricity. Kate was closest in age to Tasha at 27 years old. Sometimes it felt as if their thoughts connected.

“Where one stops, the other begins” their grandpa had said to them one day in the backyard. They had been fighting with Miles over something to insignificant to remember.

“

It’s” - Kate had seethed - “ours”, Tasha finished. They hadn’t noticed of course, neither had Miles, he was used to it, but their grandpa had watched with a bemused look on his face, ‘in fact’ he had said, as he stooped down to pick up Tasha, he had poked her on the nose and playfully pushed back her hair, ‘In fact, Kate, I don‘t know who is who, or are you Natasha?’ Kate had giggled, the argument was over.

‘

Do you remember much about Pa, Kate?’.

‘

That’s a bit random Tash’, Kate pushed her hands into her hair and lent further back into the chair, ‘but yeah, I suppose a bit better than you do’.

‘

I remember the way he used to look at Nan, that lingering look, like he just couldn’t get enough of the site of her, that’s something I’ll never forget’.‘I can’t remember that at all, I just remember the way his hands used to envelop my whole body, I must’ve been tiny then, cause it just felt like a glove around me’.

‘

You were tiny, and cute, and evil as anything’. Tash smiled, she couldn’t help but feel melancholy when talking about people from the past, she wanted to return to it, to feel those big hands holding her around her waist, to feel safe and warm and unaware. She wanted to go back to the days when Miles would laugh and smile more than he would grimace and sulk. She hated that her fathers eyes had lost their spark, and that her mother was filling her life with junk to escape the feeling of loss.

‘

God-d-d-d, sometimes life can feel so claustrophobic’, Kate gave her a quizzical look and then turned away. ‘Have you talked to Miles, Tash?’ Now it was Tash’s turn to look away, she fumbled in her bag and lit another cigarette. Kate glared at the red glow, ‘don’t try to change the subject Tash, have you talked to him?’.

‘

No, not really’. Another lie, Tash didn’t know why she didn’t tell Kate. ‘Oh well, yes, okay I have, I’m just so sick of talking to him and about him, its just all HIM, everything is HIM’.

‘

So this is why life is so claustrophobic? Don’t you mean Miles is giving you claustrophobia?’

‘

Yeah I guess I do, I feel like I can’t escape the topic of our dearly beloved’.

‘

Don’t talk about him like that Tash, he still loves you, and me, and mum, dad and Emma, but he’s got things going on in his life’.