Realization
I don’t know exactly when it happened. I think it took me a little time to realise what was going on. I wasn’t used to getting a great deal of attention at home, so things seemed pretty normal at first. I sat on a bench in the kitchen watching my sister make breakfast. A pop tart in the toaster, she bobbed about to the music coming out of the earphones which seemed to be permanently attached to her head these days. We hadn’t actually spoken to one another in some time. Since mum had gone, none of us had a lot to say to each other. She’d taken the life out of the place with her when she left, literally.
Time was passing very strangely. I couldn’t remember the previous evening and outside it was starting to look like autumn. The morning was slightly too dark for summer, the golden leaves being whipped from the trees by the blustering wind. Summer seemed to have passed me by completely. I made a mental note, get out more.
Since mum had gone, nothing seemed to work normally around here. My sister didn’t seem to see it, but the house was dead. Dad spent as little time as possible at home and I had become a hermit since finishing school. He didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t done anything about university. I knew this was strange, but decided that if I kept my head down, it would buy me some time. I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had told him I was going to take a gap year, but he hadn’t actually agreed. He didn’t say a lot to me these days. In fact, I couldn’t actually remember the last time he had spoken to me. I was taking his silence as a form of agreement.
It was on this dreary grey morning that I noticed her. She was watching me intently from the kitchen window waving her hand periodically, eagerly trying to get my attention.
I meandered out into the garden; the walk made me feel rather light headed. I would need to eat something when I got inside. ‘Can I help you?’ I asked, trying to sound short. I had learned that in London, you didn’t encourage strangers. It was just the way things were done. Everyone survived by being mutually rude to one another. It seemed to work in a bizarre way.
She looked relieved that I had noticed her. ‘Thank God,’ she said, sighing. ‘I was considering giving up. Not the most perceptive are you?’
‘Who are you?’ I asked, feeling irritation rise in me at her words. I wasn’t in the mood for some odd-ball insulting me.
‘Who I am isn’t important,’ she said, standing up properly and straightening her dress. It was then that I noticed how she looked. I had only been able to see her head from my position in the kitchen. She wore a fitted floor length gown which brushed along the ground as she walked towards me. Each step had a silent elegance. I had never seen anyone quite like her.
‘Do you mind telling me what’s going on?’ I asked. ‘What’s with the Halloween costume?’ I continued, motioning to her strange outfit. While I was trying to sound nonchalant, I couldn’t hide my awe at her appearance.
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ she said, holding her head up proudly. ‘Portia, I’m here to help you.’
‘How do you know my name?’ I was light-headed once more, the whole thing was making me feel decidedly uneasy. It must be hunger, surely it must be hunger. I couldn’t remember my last meal after all.
‘I’m just like you,’ she said, smiling. ‘If you trust me, I can help you. There’s no need for you to be afraid.’
‘I don’t understand…’ I muttered, looking around the garden, confused.
‘I see,’ she said. Something about her face showed that my words had given her cause for concern. ‘May I?’ she asked, gesturing towards the door.
‘Of course,’ I replied, still completely confused by this strange turn of events. I had no idea why I was inviting this odd woman into our home, we’d barely met. I shook my head and turned back towards the house.
She followed me inside. I noticed that my sister had gone and the house felt even emptier than it had before. No-one was there. I didn’t know how exactly I knew no-one was home, I just knew.
‘Take a seat,’ she said, motioning towards the bench.
I sat down blindly. It was odd. I had a feeling that I already knew what she was going to say and who she was, although I couldn’t seem find the words. It was like struggling to remember a long forgotten dream. I could remember the feel of the dream, just not what it was actually about.
‘My name is Mary,’ she said, smiling at me kindly.
Her voice was strange, gentle and well-spoken. She definitely didn’t come from the local estate. She sounded like someone from a period drama on the television, a first class passenger from the Titanic.
‘Were you in the shed?’ I asked. It seemed mundane, but somehow the woman looked dusty, grey. Even in my strange state of confusion, my brain wanted at least one part of this encounter to make sense.
Heaven's Waiting Room on Amazon US
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