Sunday, 2 October 2011

MEMOIRS OF MARBIE: Transitions (prt 2)

August 1990: Looking down at my feet in the middle of the darkness of a musky battered fabric interior car. Alone I am waiting for the man to return in his leather jacket, as I sit bored on the back seats only the oragne glow of the street lamps seem to give me any comfort. Unsure of why  I'm here with this man, what does he want with me and why has he brought me to this ghost town of a road that we he has parked on. Watching the house he had gone into, a three level house, all he lights are on apart from the middle. He comes out and opens my door, "Come on Rogue, get out of the car" he says to me in his gravelly, base-like voice. Unaware of what is in this house I jump out the car, crossing the wet street and into the house. The door cracked open he pushes me forward, walking with hesitation, I want my mother to be here but where is she? And why am I here with him? "Say hello" he said to me as we stopped at the entrance of what seemed to be the living room. A pretty asian lady sat in a brown sofa with clothes piles up neatly beside her, she grunts a 'Hello' back at me. She doesn't seem to know who I am and doesn't seem to care. "That's your sister. Go up stairs with her." He turns me around and I see this girl that looks just like me, but her hair is long, ties up in two buns and if it didn't look so ratty her hair would be silky straight. The man, my dad, introduces me to a girl, my sister who is the same age I'm guessing as Ramona, but she isn't very Herculean looking, she's scrawny, like me. A female, Mowgli.
So as I go upstairs with her my dad turns back into the living room. The lady and him begin to speak and I only catch a few words before getting to the top, cute, stay, far, old. Non of which mean anything to me.
"Are you hungry?" the girl says to me, standing in front of those plastic made, children sized cookers probably bought from Toys'R'Us. She stirs water in one of those toys bans with a silver spoon.
"No, no I'm not. My mum gives me real food." I'm looking at this girl as if she's a nut job and still stuck in the thoughts that my mum hasn't said why I was going to be with the man, my father tonight after so long, he hasn't mentioned a sister until tonight and now I'm supposed to play happy siblings.
"Ok, lets get something in this soup then." She smiles at me and I feel like maybe I should play along with her. The talking downstairs begins to get louder into shouting we both look towards it. The girl who has no name yet, walks into a room and come out with toilet tissue paper. Putting it in the water she continues to stir, each circular motion I look at her face studying the concoction, as if it's about to be the best meal the both of us will share.
"Eat it!" she pulls the wet tissue out on the spoon and attempts to shove it in my mouth, I back off, my statement of saying 'No', but she persists with pushing it on my tightly closed lips.
"Fuck off you stupid bitch, I don't want that wet tissue and you're no my sister, because you're a paki." I push her backwards and then stand up from my passive sitting position and she looks at me with disgust.
"Eat it you little runt, or I will tell dad you swore at me."
"Go on then." I scream back and then just before she opens her mouth, the rage comes again, I grab her and swing her in the direction of the stairs, rolling down them, I run following her tumbling weed body, jump over her at the bottom, "John, she's trying to make me eat tissue paper." The lady and the man look at me, with those unimpressed adult eyes of "You just interrupted our talk, what have you heard" glare.
"Go back upstairs" he says to us both, his voice booms through the house, the girl scatters up the stairs clenching one of her knees and I slowly follow, because I don't know this man or what he is capable of doing to me, if I don't listen. I'm not about to get a blow like she sometimes did.
After a few moments he come up stairs and holds his hand out to me to follow.

"Rogue! Rogue, come on, we're here now. We need to get off and look for Gran Dad. Are you listening?" Ramona is all up in my face and although I'm staring out the window, looking at the people on the platform, I'm surprised we've arrived so quick. Or maybe not, the clock shows it's 5pm and I know we left London about 11am.
"Yeah Mona, I'm coming." It wasn't often that I thought about my sperm donor and nor did I care really. I mean who would care about something thing they don't know. Kind of like caring what some family will be eating in Brazil for breakfast, why would you? Although I must have been around my donor numerous times, that is my first memory of him. Bleak and unworthy to be called the F word.

We didn't have to wait long before Gran dad showed up, he was probably there before we were any way.
The next morning I after eating my Granny's 'Special K' cereal in the living room I asked if I could go and play out side with, Matthew, Diane and Amelia. They were my Chorley buddies. Every summer we would know we would surely meet again. I did hate the fact they called my sister 'Blackie' though, it just seemed wrong for them to introduce her to new people and sometimes myself as 'The Blackies'. I think it was quite obvious we weren't white children. And although they never said it in a superior way, I knew that if they had said it in London someone would have got a beat down like Mike Tyson did by James 'Buster' Douglas earlier on this year.
So going to Matthew's house, I knock on his door. "Hi Rogue, Matthew is round the back in his tent. Go round ta the back gate, it'd be open lad." I loved the way people in Chorley spoke, their accent's were so much more exotic to those of the Charbies in London. So I went round to the back. Only to see this massive green Tent that could hold a family, had been erected in such a small space.
He had everything in there, biscuits, bottles of drink, donuts, sausage sandwiches (That I wasn't about to eat cause goodness know how long they had been waiting around for a mouth to dig in to them), he was searching for something in a bag.
"Oh, Roe pass me that bottle. Come sit next to me."

Name: Matthew
Sex: Male
Age: 10
Description: Tall and lanky, wearing clothes on him as to hide the meatless, living carcus. Cute in the face with the sharpest nose I've ever seen. Deep Brown eyes and greasy dog like hair. Matthew was indeed one of those boys that didn't really care what he looked like when out and about in his free time. He looked a mess, his jeans were two size too small at the legs and the rope that head them up on his waist was fraying with age. He loved that rope, for years now he's had it. (He did own belts I'd seen them). Although I only saw him some times for 4-6 weeks in the summer and then at Christmas's and easter time, he was one of my closest friends.

So sitting next to him going on about how his school year has been and that he's going to Secondary school soon in town. You see he, we, lived on a road that was a quiet as a ghost town. Two local shops that didn't sell anything remotely useful for the household. They were both sweet shops and shops they sold Alcohol. It's baking in the tent and the sun beats directly down upon it making me feel like I should be in an oven on gas mark 15. Okay so it wasn't that hot, but Matts faces was saying otherwise as the sweat dripped out of his hair like a fountain of perpetual stream of bacon grease, slicking his hair to his forehead.
Sitting crossed legged in front of each other he asked me to open my mouth and close my eyes. Had he been any other Tom, Dick or Harry I would have declined, but I knew that I would be fine with him. After all, he's got palters of food in the tent what was he going to put in my mouth.
Closing my eyes, feeling like I'm betraying Stewart, my heart begins to race and then it suddenly stops. It's like I'm in a trance. Hearing the birds and dogs alone, I'm one with nature and my body melts into the heat of the air in the tent. I'm now cool, calm and collected, bending forward into him I can feel his warm sweet, sugar stained breath on my lips. Just to hear a mouth blow come from him. I get a mouthful of his spit. Not impressed, I ask him to do the same and he declines my offer.
I pounce on him rolling around in the tent, I was hoping I was going to get a kiss from him, but instead I got spit. But then I didn't really want a kiss from a Bacon fat, dripping dude any way. I just didn't see him like that.
As we wrestled in the tent, his Mum calls out to us both to get some lunch. He pulls a Stewart on me. Laying on top of me, pinning my arms above my head, I can feel the concrete under me start to shudder. "This is it, play time over" I'm thinking to myself as he stares at me and I stare at the tents gentle quivering fabric, wishing he dare not come any closer. These lips belonged to Stewart, even Cemal was a crime. At first his body on mine was heavy and soft, I was able to endure the weight of his lanky but heavy log like body. I was able to endure it until I was being bayoneted by some foreign object close to his pelvis.  He thrusted on me, "Do you like that?" bemused looking up at him, I nodded even though i wanted to say 'No', he was hurting my bones and being between him and the concrete, it wasn't the most comfortable place to be. He stopped, I assume he saw I was uninterested in what he was doing. Standing up, he shows me what that stabbing thing was, to which I then became interested. Mine didn't look that big, and although It was through his jeans it looked like an elephant had unhinged it's trunk and borrowed it to him. Will mine look that big?

© 2010 - 2011. All rights reserved N P Rogue Laudat-Scott 'Mind of Rogue' and 'Memoirs of Marbie'

No comments:

Post a Comment