Glass by Alex Christofi Read Free Book Online

remembered the service, and my name. I really believed I was beginning to calm down. But when she started pouring out the tea in the little kitchenette, I sobbed with renewed vigour.
    â€˜Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked, standing holding the milk bottle.
    â€˜The milk,’ I wailed.
    â€˜This?’ she asked, sniffing at it.
    I realised how absurd I must have looked, and immediately started laughing in the slightly manic way that follows a good cry.
    â€˜Please, pour the tea. I’m sorry,’ I said, wiping my face on my sleeve. ‘It’s been a strange few months. I lost my job as a milkman. I don’t know anything else. I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing with my life. I don’t feel quite myself.’
    â€˜I can pour the tea without milk if you prefer?’
    â€˜No, milk is fine, thank you.’
    She brought the mugs over.
    â€˜Well, you’ve come to the right place. As Jesus once said, “Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed.”’ 23
    â€˜Did he?’
    She sat down, leant forward and clasped her hands on the table. Her eyes were powder blue.
    â€˜So what is it you’re searching for?’
    â€˜All I know is that I don’t know,’ I mumbled.
    â€˜Could it be God?’
    â€˜Maybe. I mean, I don’t think so, but I’m not going to rule Him out. I suppose I just want something to do, like everyone else.’
    â€˜Mmmm,’ she purred. ‘Purpose.’
    We thought about that word for a little while.
    â€˜And what are you good at?’ she asked eventually.
    â€˜I pay close attention to detail. I’m honest, neat, good with my hands. I know a lot of trivia.’
    â€˜Are you good with heights?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜Mmm.’ She pulled at a stray hair on her chin. 24 ‘The Man Upstairs might have a job for you.’ She must have seen me shrink back, because she smiled reassuringly. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, I promise you. At least, nothing that would make it into a Dan Brown novel.’ 25
    Nonetheless, I took a slurp of tea and checked my watch.
    â€˜Something else is troubling you.’
    I squirmed.
    â€˜But you have the answers you need. You only need to strip away the impermanent. I’m not talking about the Bible now. God isn’t bothered about eternity in the least, it is a very human concern. You need to find your little piece of eternity, wherever it is, and keep hold of it whenever you’re unsure.’
    She looked a little surprised at herself and when she unclasped her hands there were nail marks in her palms. We finished our drinks, she scribbled her phone number on the back of a Samaritans card, which I didn’t think was much of a coincidence, and I gave her mine, pondering to myself that I rarely exchanged numbers with someone in good faith. Although, not to mislead you, I remained, at this point, very much a virgin.
    I walked back out past streaks of stained light and into the whistling wind. I took the short route home. I supposed I was good with heights. But then, I supposed a lot of things.

7
    Then I’m Cleaning Windows
    Dad was sat at the kitchen table wearing my mother’s apron, his face wrinkled and red around the eyes where he’d been rubbing them. He had broken into the novelty gift on the wall to get to the minibar bottle of whisky. God only knew what the sell-by date had been. It was probably vintage by now. I sat down at the other end of the table.
    â€˜How are things?’ I asked.
    â€˜Had a gap in the diary so I started early today.’
    â€˜Why are you wearing the apron? You didn’t try to cook, did you?’
    He scratched his cheek and I could hear the bristles. Back when he was working, he used to shave every morning and some evenings. He looked over at the oven, in case, at this late stage, it might reveal its mysteries to him.
    â€˜Why don’t I make