Sitting at the table, Gemma stared at the crystal clear feat of Monday morning. The glass of water. The glass of water she anticipates every morning without fail. Her arms ache and the water shakes as her nerves jitter against the table. She just can’t move quick enough. Her mind can, her mind is always awake. Her mind has already completed the task. It’s infuriating. Enough to make her shake.
“Gemma for god sake drink your water! I haven’t got time for you today.” Saids the carer,
distracting Gemma from her jigsaw puzzle only to look at another puzzling face.
Neither challenge presents any further clarity as to why she is still here in this liminal space.
“What day is it?” She asks.
“Is my mum coming soon?” Gemma asks.
“Not today. Soon.” The stranger saids flicking through word search puzzles equally uninterested in the repeat of just another mundane day.
The other girls gather for the ritually timed breakfast. Porridge, toast or cereal.
“Sorry Gemma there’s no jam, besides you had jam yesterday.”
“Well you can’t, you had jam yesterday and you can have jam tomorrow.”
Enough! She just wants a change of scene. She wants to see her mum. What day is it?
Gemma throws her shoulder into the table, soaking herself as she screams confusingly into the lonely bustling kitchen. “FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF!”
“Gemma, you are not to speak to me like that, remember!” Saids the ignorant unfamiliar face. It’s not fair.
Gemma picks up the inviting coffee and throws it at the stranger, soaking them both in a tepid idea of a different day from yesterday.
There is no jam today or enough space, not enough to save face.
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