Page 4 - Bottle
P. 4

"Yeah, you too Mum." He hung up.
   Although he felt cold, he didn't move. He stared
at the phone. His Mum should have left a
message. But what message could she have left?
Phone me, at most. And would he have phoned
her so late and in the state he had been in?
   He looked at the dent in the door. His knuckles
had taken the brunt, but it was the back of his
hand that had ached for weeks afterwards. The
punch was to vent his anger after an argument
early in his relationship with Sandra. Kevin looked
back into the lounge and then at the number he
had scrawled.
   "It's Sandra. Kevin, she's been involved in an
accident."
   He made an effort to see her and was aghast
that he could only partially visualise her and then
only fleetingly.
   Why hadn't his Mum just come out with it? Why
the solemn introduction? Of course he knew the
answer. It was her way. The only way she knew.
She hadn't wanted to be dramatic. Yes, and she
had wanted him to brace himself. But some part of
her didn't want to come out with it. She couldn't
accept it. Just as some part of her recoiled from
using the answer-phone.
   He was being stupid, of course. How would he
have come out with it?

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