Short Story
Jasmine
The sun is hitting my face and this wakes me up. This is strange. Mummy usually wakes me up in a big fuss, pointing to the glowing numbers on the wall muttering, “Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, my adorable little sloth, you’d sleep all day if it wasn’t for me.”
I’ll stay in bed and wait for Mummy. There are little bugs floating in and out of the sunlight; I hold my breath because I don’t want them to eat my lungs. Mummy says it’s just dust, but I know better: they’re so tiny and sneaky, travelling in swarms. It’s too hot, so I throw the covers off and tiptoe into the hall. Everything is frozen and still, and I feel as though I should be quiet. I look down at Dr. Freeze lying with Captain Kirk, Number 6 and Han Solo.
“Did you do this?” I whisper.
I walk into the lounge room. It’s really dark, like a dungeon, so I arm myself with the lightsaber lying on the ground and take cover behind the couch. Grover is on the TV dancing without sound, and I see Mummy sitting oddly on the carpet. Mummy must have accidentally pressed mute on the remote; this means I’ll have to be extra quiet when I sneak up on her. I initiate operation Frighten Mummy by crawling under the coffee table. Mummy looks up at the screen. She looks sick and sad.
“Grover was Jasmine’s favourite when she was your age.”
ABORT! ABORT! I rush out of the room screaming “RETREAT!” holding my lightsaber above my head as I slide across the kitchen tiles. Mummy doesn’t catch me and tickle me like she usually does. She doesn’t even chase me; she is still in the lounge room watching Jasmine’s old favourite program. Jasmine is my older sister, but she doesn’t live with me, Mummy and Daddy. She lives in hospital and watches TV all day.
Mummy doesn’t look at me when I sneak back into the lounge room. She must be mad with me. Did I do something wrong? So I sit down and watch Sesame Street with her – I don’t even like Sesame Street because I’m way too big for it, it’s stupid. But she’s not watching it at all; she’s watching the carpet. Sesame Street finishes, but Mummy doesn’t turn off the TV and tell me to eat my muesli. She doesn’t tell me to put my toys away, and she doesn’t tell me to change out of my Ghostbusters pyjamas. I think I’m not allowed to move or leave the room. Dr. Freeze has frozen Mummy too.
“Shouldn’t I go to school, Mummy?”
Mummy starts shaking. She must be cold, so I pick up the couch blanket and put it around her shoulders, but when I reach her I realise she’s crying. I don’t know what to do – Mummy never gets upset and she definitely never cries. I try to throw my arms around her because that is what Mummy does when I cry, but she pushes me away and leans forward as if she’s going to kiss the ground, pulling the blanket over her face.
I don’t know what to do, and I start to cry. I go to hug Mummy again because I need a hug; I need Mummy to hug me and make this horrible feeling in my chest go away. But she’s not opening her arms, and she’s not getting off the floor, and she won’t stop crying, and she keeps pushing me away.
For some reason I scream, “You’re an awful Mummy! I hate you!” She still won’t look at me, so I scream it over and over again. As I scream, the feeling in my chest grows. I’ve inhaled too many tiny bugs! They’ve built a nest in my lungs and I’m about to explode! Scream! Scream! Scream!
She nearly falls over as she stands to walk out of the room. I try to follow her into her bedroom, but she shuts the door and locks it. She doesn’t even get mad when I bang and kick the door.
On the dusty hallway floor outside Mummy’s door, I draw the Loch Ness Monster with my finger, but he makes me mad so I wipe him out. Dr. Freeze is lying in the dust. He did this to Mummy; this is his fault. I don’t like him anymore so I kick him across the hall. I don’t realise I’m crying until I start connecting the splashed drops in the dust with my finger. I am bigger than this. I am six and three quarters of a year old, and I can take care of myself.
I run into my room, taking my pyjama shirt off, but it gets stuck, and I trip and fall on my face. Normally I would cry and scream for Mummy, but not this time. After changing, I run into the kitchen, climb on top of the kitchen bench and pull down a cereal bowl from the top cupboard. Cornflakes spill into the bowl and all over the kitchen floor. Milk pours on top of the cornflakes and all over the bench. I shovel sugar ’til it’s all I see on top of my cornflakes, and then gulp down my breakfast. I switch the radio to a jazz station, and drag a chair to the sink to stand on so I can reach the tap and wash my dishes. I squeeze all the detergent into the tub and play in the bubbles, growing a long bubbly beard while dancing to the music, splashing water onto the ground. The puddles become oceans and I’m a fighter pilot. Launching off the chair, I soar towards the top shelf on the far side of the nearest ocean in search of chocolate, but I must make an emergency water landing. Mummy’s in the doorway.
I think she’s looking at me but I can’t be sure. Her face is like a ghost’s and her eyes are swollen red. I know what to do now. I walk over to her and take her hand, leading her to a kitchen chair so she can sit down while I make her a bowl of cornflakes. I watch her eat, but she still won’t look at me. She finishes so I take her bowl and wash it up. I can feel Mummy watching me as I stir the bubbles around in the sink.
“Jasmine can’t watch Sesame Street anymore, Kyle.”
There’s something big and scary in this room, but I’m not going to cry. I turn around and look into Mummy’s eyes; she is looking at me. After climbing off the chair, I give Mummy a hug and this time she doesn’t push me away.
- edited by Leilah Jane.
