Kyte

This was how I managed to de-stress my distress at leaving Australia to return to my home in England. 1st January 2011.

Do not try this at home...

Cast:
David: my dad
Louisa: my mum
Catherine: my best friend
Paul: Mr Catherine
Kirsten: are you serious???????

“No, I think they just wanted a bit more ‘girl time’ together, it’s nothing personal. What say you and I go out and have a beer together? Just the two of us. Bloke time. You may be a Pom, but you love my daughter like a sister and that’s good enough for me.”
“Thanks Mr...”
“It’s Dave. I’ve told you, call me Dave.”
“Cheers Dave; that would be grand.”

David winced. “Grand”. Pom words. Then he smiled, grabbed his keys, and went to tell his wife where he and Paul were going. Then she smiled.

“They’re gone now,” said Louisa.
Kirsten sighed. “Do they know?”
“Of course your father doesn’t. He knows you are upset but he is sure you just need a bit of ‘mum’ time before you head off.”
“Well, that is true in a way.”
“Yes daughter, but not in the way he thinks of it, is it now?”
Kirsten smiled. “No mother.”
“I love that smile Kirsten, I am pleased to see it.”
“Thanks mum...mummy.”

Kirsten was sad. It was both the first day and the last day. I suppose every day is that in some way, but this was really was. The calendar was full of ones, 1/1/11, but there was also a small message in the box beside it. “K: JQ704” Kirsten had a plane to catch. The start of a year, the end of a holiday. The start of a whole new set of relationships, or of old relationships in new forms.

Kirsten was sad.

“So...”
Kirsten sighed.
“So, what do we do Kirsten?”
“Let me, please.” Kirsten’s friend Catherine knew better than anyone what needed to be done, and how it could not be expressed.
“Cate it must be....”
“Yes Kirsten I know it, but let me do the speaking.”
Kirsten nodded.

There was a lot of talking. Some of it was explanation, some of it was archaeology. Some of it was architecture, physics and physiology. Most of it was psychology. A plan was formed, a strategy was agreed.

“Will this really help?”
“It always has done in the past.”
“But, Kirsten, it has been twenty years.”
“Twenty-three mummy, I was fifteen.”
“So it is, even more so then.”
“Even more so then mummy.”
“And yet Catherine could...”
“Catherine could, but I need my mother to do it. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
“You had enough practice back in the day Mrs Ellison.” Catherine smirked.
Kirsten and Louisa laughed.
“You’re the one in form Mrs Brown.”

Silence. Smiles. Peace? Not so much, perhaps “a comfortable tension”.

“And you’re sure it will help?”
“It won’t hurt.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure Kirsten.”
Kirsten smiled.
“Well I suppose that’s true. No pain no gain.”
“No pain no drain.”
Kirsten turned her smile towards Catherine, and lowered her eyes. “Yes. Yes that is exactly true.”
“But daddy?”
“Will know nothing of it, Paul will keep him until Catherine gives him a text message.”
“He did well making it look like daddy’s idea. Thank you. Both. I love you. I love youse all.”
“So where does it happen?”
“My bedroom?”
“Fine. And the...”
“Yes.”
Louisa smiled. “You have thought about this haven’t you?”
“Yes mummy, but I never thought I would actually need it. I’m a day and six months away from turning thirty-nine.”
“You’re never too old for your mother’s love Kirsten. Kirsten Louisa.”
Kirsten smiled.

Kirsten’s room was as she had left it. Now in truth she had left it only an hour or so before. Her bed was made, and the stuffed animals back in place against her pillow. The suitcase on the floor was packed, closed, but unlocked. The wardrobe door was open where Louisa had hung up a freshly ironed dress, the one Kirsten would wear tomorrow to church.

But Kirsten’s room was also the way Kirsty had left it: the Kirsty whom Kirsten had been when she had lived in this house. The stuffed animals on the pillows were twenty, thirty years old some of them. The twin posters above her bed celebrated sporting victories from the 1990s, and the photo on her desk bore a striking resemblance to Kirsten, had she been twenty years younger. (As indeed, in that portrait, she was.)

“It’s the same room.”
“My darling girl, you seem to be suggesting that that is the point.”
“Yes mummy, it is.”
Mother and daughter cuddled. Mother kissed daughter on the hair above the girl’s forehead. She pulled back, placed a hand gently under her daughter’s chin, and raised the girl’s head until they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“Yes mummy,” Kirsten replied to the unspoken question.

Mother and daughter moved across to the bed. On the bedside table, between the Bible and the lamp, lay a black hairbrush. A paddle brush. The paddle brush. Kirsten sat on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. She looked down at her shoes. Louisa picked up the hairbrush and looked at it.

“Will Curtseygirl know about this, Kirsten?”
“I expect so mummy.”

Louisa smiled.

“I’d better do it right then. So, Kirsten Ellison, how many?”

Kirsten began to sob.

“Kirsty, please don’t. I...”
“Mummy, I really need you to. Please mummy. Twelve please mummy.”
“Of course darling. You had better stand up then. Catherine are you staying?”
“No Louisa I...”
“Catie, darling, you must.”
“Kirstie I...”
“Cate. Please?”

Catherine nodded. She too had begun to cry.

“Go raibh maith agat mo cara.”

Louisa was sitting, and Kirsten standing.

“Kirsty?”
“Mummy, please...”
“Sorry sweetie. Kirsten Ellison!” Louisa raised her arms from her lap, offering her left hand to support Kirsten’s action.
“Thank you mummy.”

Kirsten laid herself across her mother’s knees.

“Now, you said twelve?”
“Yes mummy. Twelve please.”
“You know what that means Kirsten Ellison.”
“Yes mummy; that is why I asked for twelve.”
“Then you’ll need to stand up for a moment won’t you?”

Physics and costumes.

“Of course mummy. Sorry mummy.”

Kirsten regained her feet and pulled up the back of her skirt. She held it back with one hand as she took her mother’s assistance with the other and laid herself back across the waiting lap.

“What about your stockings?”
“Tights mum. They stay on.”
“Of course.”

WHACK!

“Oh ho oh ho oh!”

WHACK!!

“Mmmha.”

The sobs were now crying.

WHACK!!

“Ah haah ah!”

WHACK!!

“Mmmhuh.”

WHACK!!

“Mmmhuh.”

WHACK!!

“Mmmhuh.”

“Six Kirsten.”
“Ah haow. Yes mummy, keep going. Ooooh!”

WHACK!!

“Ahh ha!”
WHACK!!

“Mmmhuh.”

WHACK!!

“Mmmhuh.”

WHACK!!!!

“OW! Awhh how!”

WHACK!!

“Ahh ha!”

“Twelve:”

WHACK!!!!

“Ahh haaaa! Mum-mee!”

“That is twelve Kirsty.”

“Yes mummy. Ye-hess.”
“You might need to rub her bottom a bit Louisa...no a bit softer...yes.”
“Ooh...oooh...no that’s nice mummy please...ooooooooh. Ow.”
“What now?”
“Kirsten will probably have a little nap now Louisa, you and I can perhaps go and have a cuppa in the kitchen and we can talk about it if you like.”
“Kirsten?”
“Mmhmm. Yes mummy that is a nice plan. Thank you Catie matey.”

Kirsten stood up and lent forward to kiss her mother. She stepped out of her shoes, removed her dress, and climbed into bed.

“Sleep Curtseygirl.”

Kirsten smiled.

“Yes mummy!”