Read The Weight of Water Online

Authors: Sarah Crossan

The Weight of Water (13 page)

And asks me to choose a song.

I point to a track I don’t recognise

And he says, ‘Cool,’

And I feel good.

 

Music fills the small room as

A firework explodes inside my belly and

Colour spins and sparkles in my gut.

 

When he smiles it is like having a torch

Shine right at me

         
 Lighting up all the dark corners,

And I cannot imagine why everyone

Is not in love with him.

 

William leans in

Opens his mouth

And I do too.

But not too wide.

Just enough

To give him room to breathe into me.

 

I close my eyes,

Let William lead,

And try not to pant too loudly

As we do things

         
 Mama would hate.

 

When we have kissed enough

I ask him where his mother is –

Why his mother is missing –

And he shows me a photograph

Of a woman with no hair and says

‘Mum died.’

 

And then we hug

Until it is very dark outside.

 

And I tell him how sorry I am.

And I tell him about Mama

And Tata,

And revealing our feelings

Means more than the kisses ever could.

 

And inside I am bursting to tell Tata how grateful

I am that he was missing and

Not dead.

Maybe I Should Not

 

Be thinking of William

And aching

         
 In this way.

 

But when Mama sees me and

Doesn’t look closely enough to notice the scandal

Printed all over my skin,

 

         
 I do not feel guilty at all.

Confidence

 

When I tell William

         
 All about Clair

He says, ‘Stand up for yourself.’

 

William is in Year Nine.

He could save me from the pack

But he does not want to:

         
 He knows

         
 I can save

         
 Myself.

 

And this makes me glow

And love him even more.

Practice

 

Girls shouldn’t want to

Beat each other –

But I want to beat everyone,

 

To know I’m faster,

And stronger

Than the girls in the other lanes,

Than Clair in lane four.

 

It isn’t meant to be a competition.

We’re just training.

 

No prizes or trophies for coming in first

Today.

 

And yet.

 

When I hear the whistle,

I dive with a fierceness

I don’t expect,

And a passion for first place

Propels me

Through the water

To the other end and back again.

I take breaths

Only every four strokes,

Preferring to see the

Blinking tiled bottom of the pool

Than the clumsy splashes

Of my teammates,

Than Clair out ahead of me.

 

When I pull myself from the pool

Ms Morrow approaches and says,

         
                 ‘Nice one.’

 

Then, one after another,

The other girls emerge too.

Some shake their heads,

Others prefer to cut their eyes.

Clair won’t look,

She turns in the water

And does backstroke

Up to the other end.

 

‘She wants to be team captain,’

Marie tells me later.

‘So be careful;

There’ll be trouble if the coach

Chooses you.’

Ms Morrow

 

Ms Morrow does not know.

She does not know but she suspects.

 

After practice she keeps me back

To check.

 

And this is what I have been waiting for.

 

But I do not know what to say.

Or how to tell what’s happened.

 

When Ms Morrow says, ‘What’s going on?’

I cannot tell her everything.

 

So I tell her nothing.

Family

 

When Mama and Tata stand together

They do not look right:

Tata is too shiny for the room

         
 And for Mama

Now.

 

Together they are tuneless;

The sounds they make are ugly,

Like knives being sharpened

Against stone.

 

Together they are waxwork statues;

Recognisable

         
 But lifeless.

 

Tata will not look around the room

Even when Mama says,

‘Look!

 
Look where we have been living!’

He is staring at his smart, shiny

Shoes and will not notice

There is only one bed in the room

And the kitchen is in here too.

 

‘Look!

         
 Look how we have been living!’

Mama shouts.

But Tata is staring at his tight, shiny

Shoes and will not notice

That Mama’s clothes are frayed and frumpy

And mine are too.

 

Tata merely mumbles and goes on

Looking at the floor

While Mama keeps condemning him.

 

Tata is as silent in the room

As he was before we found him.

 

When Tata has gone Mama whispers,

‘Look . . .

         
 Look at what your father has become.

         
 And Kasienka

         
 loves Tata

         
 more than

         
 she loves

         
 Mama.’

A Solution

 

Melanie is standing at the school gates

         
 holding Briony

         
 by the hand.

Briony is wearing a green dress

         
 and licking a melting ice cream.

 

Melanie waves and I wave back

         
 and then we walk

         
 together to her car

Where she buckles Briony in

         
 and Briony rubs ice cream

         
 all over the seats.

 

Melanie is taking Briony to the pool

         
 And thinks I might like to come too,

         
 Which I do.

 

I do not do lengths up

         
       And down

The pool because

The wave machine is on so I splash

         
 And play with Briony

         
 And we pretend we are at the beach,

         
 The wild ocean lapping us,

         
 Launching us on to the shore.

 

Melanie does not change into her costume;

         
 She sits by the side of the pool

         
 Chat, chat, chatting on her phone

         
 And not watching us at all.

 

So when a wave takes Briony away from the edge

         
 Into the gyre of water

         
       And spins

         
       Her

         
       About

         
       And around

         
       Up and down,

Melanie will not save her because she is

         
 Chat, chat, chatting on the phone.

         
 And for a moment I pause

         
 And wonder what life could be without

         
 Briony.

Allegiance

 

When Tata gets home from work we sit

Around the dining table

         
 Like a real family

Eating spaghetti bolognese,

Wearing bibs like babies and

Trying not to flick sauce on our faces.

 

Melanie says, ‘She was amazing.

         
       She saved her life.’

 

Then Melanie says,

         
‘We would like you to come and live with us,

         
 Kasienka. Here.’

 

I stop eating my pasta to look at Tata,

         
 To see if this means he has left Mama

         
 For ever.

 

And Melanie says,

         
 ‘You would have your own bed.

         
 You would have a room to yourself

         
 And a computer, if you like.’

 

 

Tata has been telling tales,

Stories that make Mama

         
 seem bad.

 

When he looks up he is frowning

         
 And then he looks at Briony

         
 and I know this means that he will not

         
   be back

         
 To live with us;

That it is Melanie and Briony

For ever.

 

She serves éclairs for dessert,

         
 Expensive chocolate dribbled pastries

That Mama could never afford,

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