A memory comes to mind. Before she met Karl, she and I created what we called her ‘Hot Rocker Manifestation Board’. She was struggling on dating apps, and one evening, we decided she needed to manifest her ideal man. As a teenager, she’d had many crushes on rock stars, so she decided that she would manifest a hot man from a rock band to date.
I brought home some old music magazines, glue, and coloured paper, and we sat at the kitchen table, drank wine, and made her Hot Rocker Manifestation Board. On a piece of pink A3 paper, we wrote down ideas about his appearance and qualities: a skilled musician, looks hot in leather, hairy chest and bushy hair. We then glued pictures of Kurt Cobain, Jon Bon Jovi and Michael Hutchence. Once we finished the board, we pinned it up in the kitchen and did a celebratory dance.
I wipe away a tear. ‘I hate you, curse. I hate you so much.’
Since Oliver moved in, Lenny has become… demanding. After watching the hustle and bustle of the street below, I rise from my chair and announce that it’s time for bed. Lenny looks up at me, opens his mouth and begins a protest meow that doesn’t end until I comply. I pick him up. Instantly, the meowing stops. He purrs loudly in my ear as I carry him to bed, like he’s royalty. I suspect Oliver is behind this, attempting to buy Lenny’s loyalty with extra cuddles. This is unsettling.
* * *
It’s two in the morning, and I can hear raised voices in the hallway. One of them belongs to a drunken Oliver, and the other to Jamie. They woke me up a few minutes ago after one of them slammed the door. I hope they will head to the living room, and I can go back to sleep.
BANG. THUD. CRASH. The sound of my hallway table hitting the floor is followed by something smashing into tiny pieces.
‘Ollie,’ cries Jamie. ‘Look what you’ve done.’
‘Mum’s vase,’ I gasp and shoot out of bed.
My heart is thudding away in my chest.
I can hear drunken groans.
‘Ollie, help me clear this up,’ urges Jamie.
‘They did this to me,’ slurs Oliver. ‘I will never forgive them.’
‘Mate, we’re not talking about them. You need to get a dustpan and brush.’
He’s broken Mum’s vase. That’s what Jamie is referring to.
Anger flares inside of me. I’ve had enough. This is getting ridiculous. I march to my door and yank it open. The bright light makes me blink. Oliver is sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. Jamie is crouched down low, picking up pieces of the vase.
Jamie looks up when he sees me. ‘Oh, Nelly – I am sorry.’
Oliver looks up and gives me a drunken smile. ‘Hello, Nelly,’ he mumbles as his eyes go wonky.
I stare at the pieces of the vase. ‘You’ve broken Mum’s vase.’
‘Sorry,’ mumbles Jamie.
‘I’ll buy you another one,’ slurs Oliver.
I glare at them both.
Jamie reaches down and pulls Oliver to his feet. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’
Oliver tries to bat his hand away. ‘Leave me alone.’
Jamie shakes his head. ‘You need some sleep.’
I watch Jamie drag Oliver to his feet and lead him up the hallway.
I drop to my knees and stare at the scattered pieces of Mum’s vase. With a trembling hand, I reach out to pick up one of the broken pieces. In my head, I can hear her instructing me to be careful when carrying it. I used to help her clean our old living room, and I would always offer to move ornaments and this vase to a safe spot while we dusted and polished. Tears rush to my eyes and plop onto the wooden floor. This vase is like a time machine. Every time I look at it, my mind transports me back to when Mum was still alive, and everything was still whole. Now my time machine has gone. ‘Mum,’ I whisper and press the piece to my chest.
After going into my room, I grabbed a shoe box and carefully put all the pieces inside it.
Chucking on my dressing gown, I pad into the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea.
There’s a knock on the door and I turn around to see Jamie looking sheepish. ‘I’m sorry. I feel bad for the vase. He’ll also feel guilty in the morning when I remind him.’
