Jilted generation

"Hiya guys!!" My dad shouted up the stairs. I stood up quickly and headed towards the door, wiping the tears from my eyes. I heard Gerard stand up too, using the door handle to pull himself up.

"Hi dad!" He called back down the stairs. I waited until Gee's footsteps disappeared down the stairs and I headed over to the sink. I looked to the mirror and saw my own reflection. I traced my fingers down the path that the tears had taken as they fell from my swollen eyes and down my grey-coloured face. I splashed the cool water onto my face, trying to hide my breakdown, the tears, the pain. I lent over the sink, my head in my hands and tried to calm myself down. I tried to stop my body from shaking and my hands from trembling from the fear that boiled inside of me. I turned and dried my face on the towel and looked back to the mirror. I took a deep breath and composed myself. The click of the lock on the door seemed to ring around the bathroom and the door whined as I squeezed out of it. I headed down the stairs one step at a time, resting my weight on the handrail. I hadn't eaten anything all day, but that was quite normal for me. I had had a drink though, so my vision wasn't blurry and the world didn't seem to swim in front of my eyes.

"Hi dad." I said, peering into the kitchen. He stood at the cooker stirring something in a pan. He was quite tall and looked at me with a smile fixed onto his face, his tie loosened around his neck and his jacket and bag dumped on the table.
"Hey, Mikes" he replied, I walked towards him and he patted me on the back. Dad was okay, I didn't see him too often as he was always working.
"You back from work early or something?" I asked, as he added the pasta to the bubbling water.
"Yeah. Early today." He began, I jumped as he dropped the lid onto the pan. I looked around nervously for Gerard, but if you listened carefully then you could hear the sound of the tv next door making its way through the wall and into my ears. "Come 'ere Mikes." He said pulling me into a hug. I let him wrap his arms around me and I buried my head into his chest.
"You eaten today?" He asked me, leaning gently from side to side.
"Um, yeah, I, um, I have.." I replied.
"Mikes... The truth, please." He said comfortingly.
How could he tell that I had lied?
"Okay... No I, um, I h-haven't eaten today dad. Sorry."
"It's okay, Mikes. You want any tea?"
"If the tea's not all over the cooker."
"Wait....what?" My dad asked. He turned around to see the lid jumping from the pan and the water bubbling over the side. "Oh, sugar honey iced tea!" He shouted. I laughed as he turned the temperature down and looked back towards me. He continued: "this is why your mother never let's me cook!"

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We sat at the table. My mum, dad and my brother feasting on pasta while I sat there twirling my spoon around my bowl of soup. My mum knew that I could sometimes 'eat' soup. I could almost trick my mind into thinking that it was just a drink and it didn't seem to get stuck in my throat like pasta did.
Gerard glared at me across the table. I could read the expression on his face, it repeated; I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, over and over again. I shook the thoughts out of my mind and sipped at the soup, feeling a little strange as it slid down my throat. It was only later that I began to feel sick.



I was in the bathroom again, coughing up my stomach while my mum stood at the door. She could see the pain written into my face as the stuff leaked out of my mouth.
"Hey..." She rushed over to me, holding me up so that I didn't collapse on the floor in a heap.
"Yeah" I spluttered. My lungs began to scream begging for more air and I had the image of me wrangling around on the floor choking on my own sick again. My vision blurred again and my mum caught me and sat me against the wall. I felt a single tear roll gently down my face.
"You okay now?" She asked, after I had stopped spilling my guts onto the floor.
"Yeah... I suppose."

My mum led me back into bed and sat at the end for a while, stroking the skin on my hand. Despite the circumstances, she smiled and that comforted me. I felt my chilled bones warm a little and my eye lids began to drop over my bloodshot eyes.
"You know that I can't let you go to school tomorrow, Mikey." I shuddered.
"B-b-but." I stuttered.
"No Mikey. It wouldn't be right. You wouldn't be safe."
"But the doctor said I could go back on Friday and I need to talk to Quinn. Gee said that she wanted to talk.... Please let me go. I'll be fine, I promise!"
"No, Mikey. He said you can't go back if you were sick again and..... Listen you can talk to Quinn soon. If you are well enough then you can go on Monday and see her then, okay?"
I nodded, "okay." I whispered back through my rough throat. She headed towards the door and switched off the light.
"Night, little Mikey..." She whispered to me.
"Night Mum."

Notes

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