Blundering in.

The study is not the only place where dad kept his life. I’ve been in his bedroom today, going through his clothes and his drawers full of junk. He has eight watches in their boxes, given to him as gifts. All his clothes are neatly folded, as though prepared for someone else entirely.

In the attic there are boxes of his belongings from before I was born, but when I went up there I found Norman crying. I stepped away in silence, which was cowardly I suppose. There’s nothing I can say to him where I can even pretend to know how he’s feeling.

In Angela’s room I could hear the radio on, so I went in and asked how long she was planning to stay:
“Norman’s staying here because he’s hiding. Samuel’s not staying, he’s just here to check dad’s study is secure. I don’t know why you’re still here now. Haven’t you got friends back down south? Didn’t you say you had a boyfriend down there?”

Angela half smiled through this and said if I wanted her to go then she would. She began to pack, but that isn’t what I meant for at all. I just assumed she would want to go at some point, especially since Christmas is only a couple of weeks away – I wanted to know what she had in mind. We then had one of those arguments of politeness, like when people insist on paying for a meal. In the end she said,
“I can’t go back there. If I don’t have Tomlin, I’m just another one of them – doing crystal healing and talking about their Indian spirit guides. I used to be the person they’d come to. I had something real.”

If magic has gone forever, I don’t know where she’ll go.