Carcass

That evening, Piper entered my house for the first time in almost ten years. My arms were wrapped around her body and I was cradling her to my chest, my thumb subtly pressed against her lips so that I could feel the soft tingle of her breaths.

When she heard the door knob rattling her eyes fluttered open and she stared, and I wondered whether she knew. Whether she knew what this was and how important it was, and that it meant Piper and John again, and that I would carry her wherever she wanted to go. When we stepped inside her eyes went straight to the couch and she let out a gentle sigh.

“The couch is gone,” she murmured.

I didn’t know what to tell her. Didn’t know how to tell her that we’d ruined that couch with wine and food because we couldn’t stand the ghost of her mother that always seemed to sit beside us. That my dad had taken it into the back yard and had broken the legs off as though it would stop the memories from running, that we’d dumped it at the tip and driven away but they’d chased us the whole way home.

She must have known what it was like, because we’d listened her dad smash and yell every night as he destroyed what was left of their belongings. I never really understood why they didn’t just move away, but I guessed it must have been because they didn’t feel alone in that house. The pieces and memories of what could have been were shattered and smashed against the wall but throwing them out or leaving them behind would be too lonely.

“Yeah,” I responded, glancing down at her again. “Shitty old thing it was anyway.”

Her lips curled just barely at the corners and she met my eyes. Something passed between us then. I hoped with all I had that it wouldn’t disappear.

------

She stayed for a few nights; sleeping in the room my dad had retired to when he began to hate my mum. Some of his belongings were still scattered around the otherwise empty bedroom, but I’d kicked them away with my foot when I’d first carried her inside.

I’d taken a few moments to look around the room, trying to remember my dad lying in the bed reading a book, a bottle of beer at his bedside. Tried to remember him inviting me inside to watch the soccer, the musky smell of the bed sheets and the way he’d shout at the television screen.

I couldn’t even remember his face. That tended to happen a lot with me, though. When I didn’t see anything for a while it began to disappear. My dad was in my blood and I suppose he might have been there somewhere in my memories, but he was no longer in that bed and he was no longer on my mind.

When I’d set her down on the bed she’d glanced up at me with soft eyes. “Why’d he leave?” she’d asked.

“He stopped caring, I guess.”

I knew that she knew what I meant. My dad had simply chosen an old four wheel drive instead of a gun.

My mum would make us breakfast every morning as if there wasn’t ten years lying between us. Piper would never talk except to thank my mother before returning to the spare bedroom, and every time I’d watch her leave until she disappeared. Day by day her bruises began to disappear a little more, and the scratches on her arms began to lessen. I wondered if as they disappeared on the outside it began to hurt more on the inside. Like her scars were retreating back inside herself so that no one could see them anymore, so that her skin was clear and she seemed okay.

I wouldn’t let myself forget the sight of them though.

One morning I lingered at the breakfast table after she’d returned to the room, and my mother sat down beside me.

“You think he’s doing it?” she asked.

Confused, I gave her a questioning look, unsure what she was referring to.

She sighed. “Brian,” she said softly. “Think he’s the one giving her those scars?”

The thought was painful to even consider, and I found my eyes trailing over to the window to glance at the Oakleys’ house. I tried to imagine Brian Oakley, remember the sight of him, but I guess that he’d disappeared from my mind too.

“Why would he do that?” I asked instead.

Mum sighed, hands curling around her coffee mug as she glanced wearily at the table. “Ran out of scars to inflict upon himself, I suppose,” she said softly.

There was a knock at the door then; a sound that we hadn’t heard for years. My mum caught my eye before she pushed herself up, brushing her hands against her skirt as she walked over to the door.

When she opened it up, he was standing on the outside. And I remembered him then, but he wasn’t what I remembered, with scuff all over his chin and bags under his eyes that I could have laid in. He smelt like alcohol too, and looked tireder than anyone I’d ever seen, his hands buried in his pockets as he glanced into our house.

“Brian,” mum said in surprise. “You can come in if you like.”

I wondered if he knew how big it was too, because he seemed to glance down at the door frame, as though contemplating taking the step. As though a foot inside would bring him back to the past, take him back all of those years ago, and he’d have her ghost chasing him too.

But he stepped inside. Glanced wearily around the room, meeting my eye briefly before stiffly turning away. “Couch is gone,” he said finally.

I almost laughed.

“The new one’s a lot nicer,” my mum responded with a smile. He looked at her with a slight smile, as though he’d forgotten that he hated her.

The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Piper here?” he asked gruffly, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t… I can’t find her. She leaves sometimes but never for this long.”

He sounded so desperate that I saw in him the man he used to be. There was a desperation and forlornness in his eyes that that spoke more than his words.

Mum met my eye, as though she was asking me a question.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’ll grab her.”

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard him speak. “This is the last place I thought she’d come.”

The words were still on my mind when I knocked on the door, gently pushing it open when I heard her response. I was relieved to see her laying there – almost as though I thought she’d disappear, and a smile came to my lips as I walked over to her.

“He’s here?” she asked.

I couldn’t help myself then. I leaned forward and brushed my thumb across her forehead, catching an errant strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes met mine and she smiled slightly, just barely, and her eyes were blue just like I remembered.

“Promise me you’ll be back,” I said quietly.

She frowned, breaking our gaze as she pushed herself away. I watched her begin to retreat inside herself again, but instead of letting her I grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back.

“Promise, Pip,” I said more firmly.

She sighed. “Sure.”

“And not in ten years,” I pressed with a teasing smile.

She smiled then – a real one, and it stole my breath. Because while I hadn’t spoken to her in years and while she hadn’t stepped foot in my house for almost a decade, she hadn’t smiled in even longer. “You’re such a dork, John,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

I grinned. “I’ll hunt you down if you’re not,” I threatened playfully, tugging at her wrist so that she was standing beside me. She was shorter than me; the top of her head reaching the curve of my shoulders, but she glanced up at me so that we were eye to eye.

It was the closest that I’d been to her in years.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” she responded, lips curled slightly at the corners.

I was so happy that I almost forgot about the bruises, and they didn’t even enter my mind as I led her down the stairs.