the vaccum (or is it vacuum?)

by learned

Posted to Stories on 2003-03-18 11:31:00

Down the road, my mother driving her racing-blue x-reg car…I forget the make…probably Vauxhal…which she bought the day I bust my nose open.

She pulled up one night with her friend Shona and my younger sister after I had had half a bottle of whisky, a couple beers and a couple glasses of red wine. I half danced, half ran out to see her knew car, sat in the driving seat, enjoying the ‘new-car smell’, when she asked if I’d like to take the car round the block…I declined. She then said they were off to the dry ski-slope and did I want to come?
“Yah, okay”
Most of the time I did fine, since most people can’t snowboard because they are afraid, normally i’m not and this night I was enjoying hurtling towards the window of the bar as fast as i could and seeing if i could stop before i killed myself. It seemed natural while trying to conceal inebriation to surround myself with sober people falling over, and since my mother the skier and the rest were on the other slope from the snowboarders, i had nothing at all to fear. Bearing in mind I had only had three lessons, I felt like a genius, until, half way down the slope on turn number eight or so, I began to pass out, or at least watch as my body refused to recieve any signals from my brain, and my brain refused to give them. The end of my board caught a fold and I flipped arse-over-tit, until my nose broke my fall and flipped me over another 180 degress onto my arse. A lot of people, including myself laughed, a couple of the experienced boarders helped me up, admired a fall more spectacular than had ever been believed possible, and with blood streaming down my face, I said, “no bother, i used to play rugby, my nose has done this loads.” and went into the bar for a beer.

We pull up at the beginning of the driveway at her old home and my father’s current home. WE both glance inward to notice his car. The words, “what was your mother’s excuse for not stopping this time?” echo in my head. I say goodbye to the dog, my mother thanks me for the DIY I helped with earlier … “All there is in every house I go to is DIY! I’m sick of it! I don’t care what your house looks like, or what dad’s house looks like, or what the house dad will move to will look like! DIY for you to settle, DIY for him to sell, and then inevitably DIY for him to settle. It’s surreal. ” I only said a small amount of that and thought the rest, but it was wide of me to say any, since I had already hit her in the face accidentally with a metal measuring tape while I moaned about doing any of it … I thank her for the money she leant me, “I would ask dad, but I’ve asked hime the last couple weeks so I don’t want to this week”
“How’s the job hunting going?”
“Half the numbers I got, lead to nothing and the other half didn’t want me.” As I wave and she starts to leave, I hear a rap at the house, my father is gesturing, pointing and beckoning. I start to worry about what I could have done, then I realise he wants to speak to my mother, who is pulling away. I look at the house, then the car and back, not knowing what to do for a split second, unsure who’s day to fill with a moan, “SHe’s obviously got no room in her life for me anymore, but then she never did.”
“I’m in a hurry, I’ve got to get to work. What does he want.”
i mumble, “I don’t know, he wants you.”

I walk off looking down the street, noticing a red car coming in the opposite direction, making it impossible for my mother to pull away. As she parks the car, I go inside. Father comes down the stairs, “what is it?” he doesn’t answer walking in to the back room as I go to the fridge for a beer, mum comes through the door, as I reach the bottom of the stairs, dad comes out with his fingers in his wallet as I get a quarter of the way up the stairs mum says, “I’m in a hurry.”
“I know, but the money came in to my account. I thought I could give you the, £67, 000 now, and we’ll sort out the rest later.” I thought, “lawyers”. Mum leaves, Dad shouts something after her from the doorstep. Suddenly I can smell something really fowl so I go downstairs, father says, “What is that stench? It wasn’t here until you…”
“I opened the fridge, maybe it was in there” Dad resolves to blame the dog, but I head upstairs thinking maybe his shoes had something to do with it…maybe not, if they were he wouldn’t have smelled it as strong as me. How can you find a smell when everything stinks anyway?