After a long illness, quietly at home
First, I want to show you his room.
Lemon walls, a bit greasy just there above the bed. And yes I know. Should’ve washed his hair more often. He hated me to touch him though, especially towards the end: ‘You’re not my ruddy wife!’
Foreign embassy. Listen to them talk. All about his honourable service. Surely, I think, someone else knew the truth. How am I all alone? Formica, the bedside cabinet. Look at the tea-cup rings, Vaseline and whatnot.
A litter of tissues. Search them for lipstick insignia? Haven't the heart now, not now. Funny how the light in here makes everything flatter than it really is. Linoleum floor; I wanted Axminster but he wouldn’t budge. ‘Axminster? Soon you’ll have us with chintz bloody curtains.’
How about a rug, I said, and of course he made a comment about my hair. For a while I thought of leaving him. Longed to, in fact. Asked at work about relocating. Sunnier climes?
‘Ha ha! Bugger off then.’ Ferocious sod had his pride.
Look.
At the shape of his head in the pillows. Still warm. Half a glass of water with his teeth in it. French letter. Library book. Andrew’s Liver Salts. Spectacles, horn-rimmed. Handkerchief, spotty.
For what it’s worth, I loved him. Lonely sort of love. Anyone asks, I wouldn’t recommend it. See what it’s done to me. Hitting the ditch from the pillows where his head lay, opening the windows to air a room where I was never welcome, not even when I brought breakfast and the post.
‘Fucking bills!’
Language, I’d say.
‘And you can piss off!’
‘Shall I turn back the bed?’
He’d look at me then, all sunken chest and self-reproach, and I’d pat his hand and pour the tea and two cups later he’d be fine.
* Sarah Hilary won the Fish Historical-Crime Contest and has two stories in the Fish anthology 2008. She was a runner-up in the Biscuit Short Story Contest 2008. www.sarah-crawl-space.blogspot.com/
I remember this flash well, an excellent one… let's see if people guess what the rules where for the weekly challenge in which you wrote it!
Thanks, Anon. Yes, let's!
The FLASH flash! I love this. Freedom within strict discipline in its finest form. Have tried this a few times myself, by the way, and found it incredibly useful (and difficult). Well done!
Thanks, Justine! It is the most incredible discipline, leads you to places you never thought of going. Most fun I ever had writing 300 words.
I really appreciated the delicacy…the sensitivity of this piece Hilary…and the vision…the remnants of finality; the beside debris. Helen
Thank you, Helen, that means such a lot to me. I wanted this piece to be moving without being sentimental. Your response gives me hope that I succeeded.
lovely piece, Sarah – the voice is spot-on.
Frances
Thank you, Frances!
After reading Sarah Hilary's piece 'After a long illness, quietly at home' Helen Pletts says she was inspired to write the following “rather naughty” piece…
Inspired by Sarah Hilary's…after a long illness, quietly at home
I can't remember how I came to be
on the other side of the sheets;
him beneath me
(though he was always on top,
always the 'General').
In a breezed manner he would
exclaim away the brittle actions
we performed together.
I'd ponder at these, later,
wiping his chin
after the chicken soup
(he never let me blow on the spoon)
but he let me blow my wet breath
into the crackle of his chest
and cover his bony hips with my thighs
his lower lip ajar, thermometer-ready,
but this time the cold glass rod
remained, tip down, in the cup.