Avoidance, M. Ellisson [top 50 books to read .txt] 📗

"I don't think she knows but everyone else does. We see it all the time, watch her pretend. It might have been comical if it wasn't so sad. You can set your watch by her, almost to the minute. The repetition is devotional, delusional, deceptive and depressing for all of us.

The Grandfather clock in the hall, tall and majestic, chimes six and we sit there, hoping the last chime won't come; it always does. How I hate that clock, how I hate time. I hate everything thing about that hour, that minute, that millisecond when the last chime calls to her whilst warning us.

We used to run away, to the end of the garden, she loves her garden. I'd take my little twin brothers' hands and we'd skip playfully to the bottom of the garden, where the hedges grow taller than we ever imagined we would. Tommy and Sam used to look so similar no one could ever tell them apart; they loved that.
"Who am I Sawee?", "Which one am I Sawee?", they'd chime in unison. As neither could say my name properly I never knew who was who. I do now though, now we've grown.
We always had fun at that hedge, climbing, play fighting and waging war on the bushes. Our imagination kept us intrigued for hours. I never wanted to walk back up to the house, its shadow looming over us as the night wore on. But when you're called in our house, you do what you're told. Trust me, it's easier.

Dinner time is the worst. No matter how hungry we are I know we'd be better of fighting with the daffodils till we collapsed from exhaustion but no, dinner time is at 7:30 sharp and we had to be there, on time and clean. It is the "clean" element that usually sets her off. Sam never has been one to wash, and when he does he's hopeless at it. I used laugh at his half hearted attempts; used to. That was before they became cannon fodder for her anger.

I remember one time she ripped the table cloth off the table, with all our food on it, because Sam had a strand of grass in his hair. Food went everywhere, glass broke and plates smashed. Yelling at us to clean up our mess she stumbled off, intoxicated as a pirate after ten bottles of rum. The three of us bent down on all fours and spent the rest of the evening picking up shards of glass, bits of china and mountains of food. I know how long it took us because that damn clock chimed eleven just before we finished.

Now though we don't eat together, we don't do much at all together. She has her habits, her rituals and we have ours. We see her in passing, in the car on the way to school and on the way home. She's a very good actor, so controlled and so lovely in public that no one at school would ever know; why should they?

It's funny how things change, how dinner as a family becomes dinner as separate parts of a unit that once was a family. Well I guess it's not funny, like everything else it's just sad.

We all know the drinking has increased, she starts earlier now and we hide faster. I guess if avoidance was a prerequisite for a university course we'd all get in, including her. Avoidance is the one thing we all have in common; her from life and us from her. Some families have legacies passed down from generation to generation, ranging from recipes to sewing techniques. We just have the legacy of avoidance and escapism.

School's my favourite place, my haven, my sanctuary, my one true home. The twins are there too so it really does feel like home without the liquid demon.

Damn I did it again; I keep saying twins, like he hasn't gone, like he's still here. That's the thing with an alcoholic mother who drives; she kills your brother simply by pressing the accelerator not the brake. I'm not even sure if she knew which one she killed. But I do Sam, I do and I promise I'll never let you down like she did. Never, I promise."

Sarah stood slowly, tears streaming down her face
"That's what I think my daughter would write about me, it's why I'm here. My name is Sarah and I'm an alcoholic."

Publication Date: 07-13-2011

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