Chapter Four: My Recycled Soul by Lynette Ferreira
My mum met Sean when I was only five years old, after my dad died a year earlier in a car accident on his way home from work. I helped my mum during that year. I was my mum’s shoulder to cry on, making sure she got up in the mornings, letting her lean on me emotionally. I was so sure my mum would never get over my dad.
Therefore, imagine my shock, when one day, soon after my
sixth birthday, I found Sean sitting in our living room, on my dad’s chair. He
was laughing so loudly, he reminded me of an evil villain from one of my
cartoon shows.
Ignoring him did not help either, because after that day he
seemed to be a permanent fixture, and they got married a year later.
My mum looked so content again and although initially I felt
jealous at having to share her, Sean’s quick smile and reassuring presence made
him nice to have around.
Not anymore.
Arriving in Ireland to pressing grey skies does not
help to cheer me either.
We drive most of the day. We landed in Dublin and now must
cross a country from its east coast to its west. At home it would have taken
only two to three hours to drive the same distance, but the roads here are
meandering lazily through the countryside and past little villages.
My eyes continue to stare unseeing through the rain-stained
window at the passing scenery, yet I smile interested when my mum or Sean point
out something they find beautiful or exciting. Even though it feels as if my
entire being is still on the other side of the planet, I do not want to be the
one to dampen the happy atmosphere in the car.
We eventually turn off the main road into a neglected lane
overgrown with trees and shrubs. The car bounces and jumps over the muddy ruts,
which I suppose used to be a driveway somewhere before the First World War. As
the driveway curves around and with one final massive bone shuddering pothole,
we emerge from the foliage.
I struggle to breathe as I look at the ‘manor’ in horror and
I have a feeling of déjà-vu. According to Rebecca, who believes in karma and
all those far-out things, when you get that kind of feeling, it means you are
in the right place. I never really believed her mumbo-jumbo, and I know I am
most certainly not in the right place.
The mammoth grey block looks more like a fixer-upper
lump-a-cement than the fairy-tale picture Sean projected into our minds over
the last couple of months. Months of convincing us how great a change would be
for all of us. The only impressive thing to me is the miles and miles of
unkempt lawn surrounding the house, and off to the side there is a gathering of
inviting green trees.
Sean stops the car in front of the dilapidated building, if
I can call it a building, and even my mum climbs out of the car with
apprehension clearly edged on her face.
Sean rushes around the car to her side and then wraps his
arms around her waist, as he laughs exuberantly. “We’ll fix it, and it will be
lovely. Don’t worry.”
I cannot help smirking. It will never be lovely.
Sean unlocks the front door and then with a smile plastered
on his face and a look of adventure in his eyes, he lifts the waterfall of
green wild ivy hanging in front of the faded red door.
My mum leads the way into the house, ducking under the ivy.
I glance at Sean reproachfully as I squeeze past him into
the dark, dusty entrance hall.
The interior does not look as bad as the outside, but it
looks old and covered with grime. A wide staircase is to the right of the door
and there are a couple of doors leading off from the large entrance hall.
Esther, my ten-year-old half-sister, grabs onto my hand, and
excitedly she pulls me toward the stairs. I follow her apprehensively.
At first, I step onto the stairs cautiously, but they feel
sturdy and well built under my feet, so I let Esther rush me up to the
second-floor landing.
In my new room, I see Sean had arranged for people to
deliver the basic furniture. There is a new bed and a dresser, but the room is
otherwise bare looking. The faint faded rose-covered wallpaper on the walls are
peeling away in the corners, the wooden floorboards are pale and splinter
looking. I try to avoid walking on the most distorted slats as I cross the room
to the bed, still wrapped in plastic.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and my eyes fix on a spot
on the wall, as my mind goes blank.
With surprise, Sean’s voice pulls me back from the empty
void of nothingness, when he says, “Cheer up, girl. It’s not as bad as it
looks.”
Hurriedly I stand up from the bed and manage to smile
half-heartedly.
He heaves my suitcase onto the bed. “There you go,” he says
cheerfully.
I mumble sarcastically, “Thanks.”
As he leaves my new room, he starts to whistle the tune the
seven dwarfs whistle on their way to work: Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work we
go.
I unpack my suitcase quickly, packing my clothes in the dresser drawers, placing my photos on the bedside table, looking at the happy faces of my friends longingly. My room is draughty and on the second level and does not even come close to resembling the snug, cosy room that was my haven not so long ago. The only plus now is that I have my own bathroom, and I did not have to share with Esther anymore, although I will give up this luxury in the blink of an eye, if I could be back in my old room.
Looking pessimistically around the room once more, I slide the suitcase in under my bed and decide to go and explore the small forest to the side of the house I saw earlier. I want to find a quiet spot, where I can yell, cry and scream without having Sean or my mum rushing to my side, trying to make me feel better with silly motivational blubber.
