Pack Up the Moon by Anna McPartlin Read Free Book Online Page B

They couldn’t help it; he was funny when he wanted to be. They told stories of when he was smart and when he was stupid. They talked about his bad habits and his favourite sayings. They recalled the good times and some of the bad. They remembered him well and in doing so they achieved acceptance.

Chapter 6
    The Bear, the Rabbit …
     
    I woke up on Friday morning. John was dead a month. I hugged his pillow, which still smelt of him because I’d made sure to spray it with his aftershave when I’d eventually
    washed it. It was still early and I didn’t have to be in school for a few hours so I tried to sleep but my body refused to
    co-operate. I was wide awake for the first time since the accident. I kept closing my eyes, but they burned to open. Frustrated I sat up and really wanted to cry, but my eyes remained dry. After several attempts I gave up and crawled out of bed. I sat in the bath on my own, playing with the taps with my toes, but that got boring pretty quickly. I lay there remembering John’s arms around me. I remembered our fist kiss on the wall outside my house, his look of sheer delight the day I produced a packet of condoms in
    the schoolyard, our time in America, our home, our dreams, his face, his smile, his eyes, his heart and still no tears.
     
    What the …?
    I felt sick. I wanted to cry for him because crying was all that I had left and now it would appear that even that
    had been taken away. It wasn’t fair.
    “Fuck this!” I screamed to the shower curtain. “Fuck the lot of it!” I roared. “Fuck you, God!” I yelled to the ceiling.
    Not content with fucking God out of it, I attacked the rest of his family.
    “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you bastards!”
    Then I moved on to Allah and Buddha just in case and
    in the end Judas even got a mention.
    “Why?” I begged. “Why did you take him, God, you greedy bastard? Why couldn’t you let him live?”
    Not surprisingly, I didn’t get an answer, but as I got out of the bath I slipped and for a fleeting second I
    though it might be retribution so I gave the ceiling the
    fingers and mumbled, “You’ll have to do better than that, fuck-face!”
    After that I made my way around the house being
    careful to check that all electrical appliances were safe
    before using them.
     
    *
    It was the last class of the day and my students had been
    on their best behaviour since my return. When I entered the classroom, instead of chaos, I was met with silence. The smart-asses weren’t being smart, the chatterers were silent and the swots were slow to raise their hands to share
    their knowledge. I was subdued and fragile. My pain was naked and it had a rippling effect on all who witnessed it, including my students, and I felt bad for them. Grief filled
     
    every room that I entered like a fog that only lifted when
    I left. It was the last class of the day, I was teaching history to First Years and we were concentrating on The
    Reformation. I asked Jackie Connor to read a paragraph on the Lutheran Church and switched off. I was staring out the window at two pigeons’ heads butting one another on
    the school roof when I heard Rory McGuire calling me.
    “Miss? Miss? Are you OK?”
    I emerged from the haze and smiled at him. “I’m fine, Rory. Why do you ask?”
    He looked around at his classmates whose eyes were
    cast to the floor. He cleared his throat. “Well, Miss, Jackie finished the paragraph five minutes ago.”
    I felt tears spring to my eyes and I looked towards the
    ceiling and God.
    Oh fucking great, this morning I begged you to let me cry and nothing. Now in front of twentyfive teenagers, you fucking…
    I didn’t finish the thought. Instead I tried to pull myself together. “Does anyone have any questions?” I asked cheerfully.
    The class remained silent.
    “Right. Good. OK.”
    I looked on my desk for the book, but I couldn’t see it. I must have appeared panicked because Jane Griffin in the front row handed me hers.
    “Here, Miss,