by Lynn Clement
lemon juice
‘Where’s mum?’ asked Ray
Boswell.
‘In the bathroom,’ replied his
eldest.
‘Right, we’re going,’
determined Ray. He slammed the door to make his point.
In their newly refurbished
bathroom Samantha was washing her hands.
A sticky note was on the
kitchen cupboard door above the kettle, where Ray knew Samantha would see it.
Don’t forget your doctor’s appointment! When she saw it she
lifted the note from the door and walked to the bin. Hitting the pedal she
dropped the note in, and then wiped her feet on the mat just inside the kitchen
door. She went to the sink. The teeth of the nail brush snarled at her as she
picked it up and began scrubbing at the tips of her fingers. The red water
swirled down the plug hole.
The clock chimed ten. She
should have set off by now, if she were to be on time. Samantha finished
applying the plasters and put her gloves on. Lifting her raincoat from the stand
she carefully manoeuvred her arms into the sleeves, leaving the buttons undone
in spite of the biting cold that would hit her outside. The belt hung loose and
banged on her leg as she walked.
Samantha crossed the road,
avoiding the urine soaked bus stop and quickened her pace. A film of sweat
formed on her top lip and she felt sick. Fishing in her pocket she brought out
today’s freshly laundered handkerchief, and dabbed at her skin. She felt the
familiar burning sensation in her throat and tried to swallow it down, but
vomited on the pavement nevertheless. She moved away swiftly. She had to make
this appointment. Ray was at the end of his tether with her. She needed
help.
Samantha pushed open the wooden
door, looking immediately for the ladies.
‘Welcome,’ said a deep
voice.
She went
in.
‘How can I help you,’ he
said.
‘Forgive me father, for I have
sinned,’ said Samantha.
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