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5
LIAM
Lingeringjet lag kicks in and my body clock pulls me out of the bed I’m scrunched into. Five a.m. I groan, some days that’s the time I go to bed and now I’m getting up after only two hours because I can’t sleep . Pulling on my jeans and t-shirt, I pad quietly from the room and downstairs.
Goldie’s claws clatter across the lino floor in the kitchen, his tail wagging in greeting. I quietly close the door and look around for coffee. Mum and Dad still drink the instant crap, no fresh beans here. Oh well, better than nothing.
Coffee in hand, I retreat to the lounge. At least I’m able to watch what I want on TV this time. I sit and rest my legs on the coffee table, my head on the back of the sofa, and choose a channel. Classic eightiesSimpsonsepisodes. Perfect. Only half an episode later, I hear the stairs creak.
I turn to see Ella lingering near the sofa. She’s dressed in pink fleece pyjamas with a cartoon cats pattern and grips her raggedy blanket. The little girl’s brown hair sticks up in several directions and Ella’s bleary eyes remind me of her mum’s last night.
Without a word, she disappears again, and after the fridge and cupboards bang, she returns to the lounge with a huge glass of orange juice.
“Do you always wake up so early?” I ask her.
“I’m not tired.”
She wanders to the Christmas tree and pokes at the dangling silver and gold baubles. “Can you switch the lights on?”
I flick a switch and the multi-coloured lights shine against the green pine, flickering in a random pattern. In the half-light of the room, the colours scatter across the walls.Christmas. I heave a satisfied sigh that I’m here and not in California heat.
Distracted by the tree, I don’t notice Ella switch shows and the bloody pigs reappear. She’s positioned herself with her back to me, close to the TV. I’m amused because Ella obviously does this to stop me asking her to change back to my show.
Little kids. Funny. I finish my coffee then stretch out on the sofa, eyes closing, lulled to sleep by the squeaky voices on TV.
* * *
In my dream,somebody is messing with my hair. I open an eye and ground myself, catching up to where I am. Definitely not LA or a hotel room.Home. I shift around on the uncomfortable leather sofa and look straight into Ella’s wide brown eyes. The little girl’s lips are stained orange from her juice and she’s holding a hairbrush.
“Your hair is pretty,” Ella says.
Half-asleep, I don’t have a response. Has she spent time brushing my hair? I touch my head. The side of my hair is wound into something that uncomfortably resembles a loose braid.
“I learned to braid. I do them to Mummy’s hair, too.”
I scrunch my face up in confusion, looking back into her innocent happiness.
“And my dolls.” She holds up a couple of dolls. One has long platinum blonde hair and wears scraps of clothing, reminding me why they call Honey ‘Barbie’. Both dolls’ hair is twisted into weird shapes.
A troubled look mars her happiness. “Don’t you like braids? You have girl’s hair.”
I laugh at her and she giggles back.
“I haven’t had a braid for a long time,” I say.
“Can you get me breakfast?” she asks.
“Umm. What?” My brain isn’t awake enough for rapid subject changes. “Isn’t your mum up?”
“No, she’s very tired.” Ella tugs at the doll’s hair, winding it around her fingers.
Heh. I bet she is. “Nobody else around?” I don’t know what to feed a four year old and this isn’t my idea of a relaxing time at home.
“Everyone is in bed. I’m hungry.” As if the decision is made, she pulls herself up and heads towards the kitchen. I stare at her dog slippers wondering what world I’ve landed myself in. Should I wake Cerys? No, I’m sure I can manage to put some cereal in a bowl.
It’s a long time since I ate CocoPops, Ella’s favourite, apparently. She instructs me how long to leave the cereal in the milk to make chocolate milk, and I watch Ella in fascination as she happily crunches on her breakfast. I didn’t think I liked kids, though I’ve considered having my own. There’s something good about time around innocence and playfulness after years in the debauched lifestyle I chose.
“Can you take me to the park?” Ella asks, pushing her empty bowl away.
