Thursday, 1 January 2009
A photo titled "Conversatons II by Ferran.
Jane (calling from her bedroom, the black hole where she has laid comatose drunk since last Sunday four days ago: "Freddie.....", silence.
Freddie (watching TV and replying loudly): "Yes...", silence.
Long pause, nothing happens.
Freddie: "What do you want?"
Nothing happens, not a sound is heard.
A full 10 ten minutes later Freddie goes to Jane's bedroom, where she is lying amongst her mess, utterly silent except for the occasional faint sound of the unscrewing of the top of a Vodka bottle and the faint "Ahhh..." that occasionally follows. Even for the most experienced alcoholic neat vodka from the bottle can be a bit hard to take.
Freddie (said with a little aggression and exasperation): "What do you want?"
Complete silence. Nothing emanates from the darkness, the black hole, the smelly mess.
Freddie (louder and with more exasperation): " What do you want?"
Jane (after a delay): "Er, um, er, I want some fooood, please" (amazing Jane says "please")
Freddie (having recently learnt at Al-anon to use "I" when conversing in order to focus on us, the victims, and to stop being a carer: "I do not want to be your carer. I am not meant to be your carer. I'll bring some food, please wait..."
Freddie trudges back to the kitchen and prepares a jacket potato (baked potato but microwaved) with some added mayonnaise and butter, something Jane might be able to handle without throwing it all over the place. It is either that or a toasted cheese sandwich with mayonnaise, another "safe meal".
Freddie (walking into Jane's bedroom that smells of vomit, mess and God knows what): "Here it is behind you" (putting it on her bed behind her). Jane says nothing and covers her head under the duvet. Freddie closes the door firmly after him. He feels p*ss*d off. He returns to the TV and his own meal that has become a little cold.