Confusion (audio version)

A lone cloud hovered over the apex window in an otherwise blue sky. The day seemed normal, though that had become skewed. There was a metallic banging coming from downstairs. What was it, and what was I meant to do about it? I would have to investigate. 

The house had three floors. The sound was coming from below where there were two more bedrooms and a bathroom. Light spilled onto the landing, lifting the shadow into shades of grey. There, in a doorway stood my eldest son raking his purple Tommy Tippy cup across the bars of the safety gate.

‘Morning sonny.’ The words were mine but the voice was lost and confused. 

He pulled out his dummy, ‘helloo.’ He was bright and full of cheer.

Again, I’ve no idea what I fed them, but the cupboard was bereft.

I reached out and set him free from his prison, and followed him down the last staircase with its tall walls and permanent semi-darkness into the kitchen.

The lights were bright, offensive to my senses, intensifying the whistling in my head. I slapped the switch, finding solace in the muted light peeking through the leaded windows. My son pulled himself up into a chair at the table where he sat tapping his dummy on the green cloth peppered with yesterday’s crumbs.

Breakfast came and went, no idea what it was or if it was right. thoughts swam around in the soup inside my head, sloshing against the sides of my skull. I reached for the memories floating like croutons sinking without a trace as they were absorbed in the miasma. 

Padding footsteps ushered in the arrival of child number two. I’m sure there were three. Better go check. Soon the house chimed with happy voices, scampering feet, and the smash of toys colliding. I watched them play oblivious to their needs until they assaulted me all at once for sustenance.

Again, I’ve no idea what I fed them, but the cupboard was bereft. I scrawled a list of supplies and herded the kids into the long double buggy complete with a buggy board. We set out in chill April breath.

Things were not as they should have been. I made all the right turns, down the cobbles, and under the bridge, over the canal, across the car park, and into the supermarket.

So what was wrong?

The world had closed in, compacting. Truncated. The aisles stretched out forever, down them ran a familiar, small child. I had one the same. Ambling through the aisles, nothing leaped out at me. I checked my shopping list, it was filled with scribbles and letters smashed together in meaningless heaps like abandoned children’s toys.

The familiar child returned with jam and crisps, which he dumped in the trolley with the other two children. This continued for some length of time. Canal boats chugged by outside beneath darkening skies; birds may have sung, but I never heard them. The watch on my skinny wrist was digital, a colon flashed between changing digits. What was it for?

More aisles, more food, a reasonable mix and match, a hodgepodge of chemicals and crap made to resemble food. A pile of microwave wonders is tossed on top, frozen mush that looks nothing like the packet. Rice and potatoes, I remember those being there nested in the cupboard with cheap pasta. 

I made a break for the till my feet moved quicker than before. The world is shrinking again as I pull up at the till and pile the shopping on the belt that vanishes through a thin slot into oblivion. Beep, beep, warned the till, an alarm sounds deep inside my head, beep. I wanted to withdraw as I thrust the shopping into plastic bags that rustled at an extreme volume at the roar of the air conditioning. Beep. Am I being scanned too?

Thoughts whirred and crashed against the inside of my skull, rocking me side to side, stirring up vomit. A voice, someone spoke! I scanned the area.

‘Sir?’ 

My heart is high in my chest squeezing its way up my throat. I swallowed. Tried to speak. Nothing. My bottom lip was pinned by my teeth. Temperature rising. Throat dry. Has the air con broken? Taking out my wallet, I thrust it at the cashier, grabbed the bags, and trollied it out of there. 

Outside, the sky had greyed over, a solitary shaft of sunlight rested on the brown water in the canal. I thought about the water, and what it would feel like to drift away. It wouldn’t be the last time I would think of it.

‘Sir?’ The cashier held out my wallet.

‘Thanks.’ The word scraped my throat on the way out.

Leaning back against the wall, I waited for the world to straighten out, all the vertical lines were buckled. I breathed deep of the cold air, letting it inflate my chest until I was forced to release it. Another breath, and another. The children ate cheese strings, comparing threads and waving them like miniature cheerleaders.

Time to go. The first step was shaky, the second stronger, a steam train building up the courage to move on.