Klempner

“Here…” Juliana places something in the ground… a flat something… “I'm not giving you a cushion, but you can have that.”

On the end of her shoe, she toes it toward me and across the white line. A fragment of paint breaks from the edge of the line.

Stiff-jointed, I stand. It’s not easy. Every movement scrapes flesh and bone against the concrete and I resist the urge to simply roll forward and crawl towards whatever-it-is.

So, I stand: unravelling myself: piece by piece, joint-by-joint, unfolding my body until I’m upright. Then I take the three or four steps to what has become the edge of my world.

Stooping with exaggerated care for my stiff spine, I examine her flat-packed offering. “A cardboard box?”

“It'll get your ass off the concrete.”

“In this damp, It won't last long.”

She shrugs. “Then, I might give you another. If you behave yourself.”

“You mean if I grovel and entertain you.”

She gives me a hyena grin. “That’s the spirit.”

*****

“Can I ask you something?”

Her eyes narrow. “You can ask.”

“How did you come to be in my hands in the first place? Most of the kids were shipped in from the third world or Eastern Europe. How did you come to be in Blessingmoors?”

Her jaw drops. “You don't know?”

the show. I didn't make personal collections. I had people on the

really don't know

over her face. “Juliana, I may have fucked up your life, but if you imagine it was from some personal vendetta, you're dreaming. Did one of

She speaks slowly… Reluctantly… “My parents

me tightens. “Your

in fact, my mother. My father was never there. And when he was, he was usually drunk. If he came home, we'd all hide or go out

“We?”

licks lips. The eyes slit further. “Are you really

I’d like

looks away.

childhood? Tell me.

face screws

a smile, wink at her.“ I’ll show you mine if you

and me… That she was taking me for a special treat. She made me wear my best dress. My older sister's actually. And

Christ…

My belly tightens…

what it is worth to you, Juliana, I do understand

liquid eyes to me. “But

when I was small. But, at the time, I didn't

dull. “Who killed

“My father.”

widen. “And what

the end, I

is bleak.

Karma. What goes around comes

sits back in her chair’ eyes me. “And so here we

say. Here we

Time to move on…

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