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.’
‘It’s okay,’ I mumble.
‘It meant a lot to you – the vase – yes?’
I nod and wipe a stray tear. ‘It belonged to my mum. She’s no longer with us.’
Jamie lets out a heavy sigh. ‘He got a text message from someone who had upset him. We ended up drinking back at my flat.’
‘Thanks for apologising.’
‘It’s no excuse, but he’s going through a rough time.’
I watch my tea bag tear apart in my mug of hot water and spew its tea leaves, which adds to my frustration. This flat share with Oliver isn’t working. I can’t carry on like this. Maybe having a flatmate wasn’t a great idea. Perhaps I should have tried to cope with my financial woes differently.
‘He’s a good guy – honest.’
‘Is this why he’s not writing?’
Jamie sighs. ‘Yes. I wish he would talk about what’s going on in his life as even I am getting tired of this non-stop drama.’
‘Is there something I should know about?’
‘Molly…’ He stops. ‘I am going to let Oliver tell you himself. Goodnight, Nelly.’
I sit at the kitchen table with my notebook, sipping my tea, and make a list of all the things that are not working with this flat-sharing arrangement. After jotting down all the times Oliver has woken me up, the secret cuddles he’s given Lenny when I am not around and him knocking over Mum’s vase, my mind wanders. I picture him and find myself writing – ‘buttons undone on shirt a lot’ and ‘dangerous smile’.
* * *
