bottling up a history | teddy/parson | train

Parson Cham

Here I am living the nightmares of my childhood. A reality of the never-ending train journey that used to torment my dreams. How life likes to really shake up my childhood, just as the carriage is doing on the tracks. I dare not look out of the window, everything is moving so fast as we pass it by. I can’t look to my left or right, the windows are far too big, but I would rather endure the travel sickness than look straight ahead from the table.

The sight of him brings the vomit up my throat.

No words have slipped from my lips as I have picked from the punnet of grapes on the centre of the table. All I hear is the rattle of the glasses over the murmurs of talk of the others in the carriage. I have nothing to say to him, all the apologising needs to come from him.

I put all the pressure into my fingertips that hold the next grape that I pull from its vine, it bursts as it is overwhelmed by the force. Juice doesn’t travel far but the frustration on my face must have reached the others as they all turn to face me. I shake my head at their stares as I chuck the squashed grape to the back of my throat.

”So I got to talk then.” My eyes do not reach Teddy’s as I trace my hand across the next fruit victim that I wish to fiddle with during this forecasted daunting conversation. A tangerine becomes my prey as I pick away at its skin. ”I never thought I would be the first one to die, y’know.” My fingers scrapes across the orange skin, small chunks pile up beside it on the table.

As soon as the orange is bare, my eyes dare to look up at him as I surrender to the smirk that has begged to be projected on my lips. ”With the way Jacob is going, his odds of ending up in the ground are far greater than the both of us put together.”

I do not allow him to respond to all that I have to say, the frustration inside of me is mellowing with each word that I allow to escape. ”I bet you are wondering why I volunteered?” I take the first bite of the orange, speaking my next words without swallowing a piece. ”Well, you don’t deserve to know.”