YSJ Anthology 2015

as bad. Now they call me and it doesn’t bother me, just as it never
bothered Mother. And it never bothered John.
The relationship I now have with John is the strongest I have ever
had with any man. Actually, who am I kidding? I’ve never had a
relationship with a man. At least not that sort. Men don’t even notice
me. Except for Grandad of course, who loved me unconditionally and
left me well provided for. My father tried to ignore my existence as
much as he could and as for my brother, well... two years older and
the only physical contact was a punch to the stomach every time he
passed me and he thought mother wasn’t looking. And those men at
the hospitals, they didn’t manage to pin their fancy label on me. All
that fine talk about disorders and clusters didn’t get them
anywhere. They couldn’t come to an agreement, wittering on in their
esoteric gobbledegook; was I paranoid, schizoid, schizotypal,
delusional, erratic, disturbing, antisocial, borderline, histrionic,
narcissistic, avoidant, dependant or obsessive? And those are just the
ones I can remember. Then Grandad came to get me and gave me a
job in his factory office and things settled down for a while.
As I finish stacking the newspapers away, I turn and catch a rare
sight of myself. There is a full length mirror on the back of each of
the three bedroom doors. I cannot get to the one in my parents
room. It is crammed with papers. They are piled high to the ceiling
and there is a smell beginning to pervade the already stale air in
there, which I would rather not acknowledge. So I keep their door
firmly closed. On the rare occasion that I need to look in the mirror, I
use this one, in my brother’s room. It is much kinder than the one in
mine, and easier to get to. The newspapers have taken over much of
his room too but he won’t care. He lives in Australia now, or maybe
New Zealand. Might even be Canada.
I stand in front of it, like a newly arrested criminal about to have her
photograph taken for police files. A mug shot, only full length. I start
at the top because that’s the best bit, my crowning glory. Whatever
else I lack in the dazzling department, it’s never been in my hair. But
I always keep it tightly tied back and when out in public I wear a hat.
I tug at the tight elastic band restraining it and shake it free. It
cascades down onto my shoulder with a sense of huge relief at its
rare and sudden freedom. I still keep myself clean so it does look
beautiful. Glossy and naturally blonde with highlights that look as if
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