Can't Buy Me Love by Josephine Esterling

Last week, we welcomed a new member to the group: Jo Esterling.  A quiet and unassuming character, she made a huge impact when she wowed us with this powerful short story. 

 

Can't Buy Me Love

By 

Josephine Esterling

Five year old Jenny put her arms around her mother. " I love you mummy" she said innocently. One of the woman's arms slowly encircled the child and lay limp about her waist.  Somewhere inside her the child begged the woman to look at her. To hold her tight and return the love that she gave so freely. But the woman never looked up from her book.

"I love you" Jenny said again. This time with a note of urgency in her voice. The woman's arm tightened around the childs waist in response, as though acting love for her daughter. To Jenny it was cold, uncareing and false. She could not understand why her mother did not love her. Why she had to continually act out a scene of false sincerity. But to Jenny, any form of love, even this cold love, was better than nothing.

At night Jenny lay unmoving in her bed. Sometimes she would watch the reflected lights of passing cars on the bedroom wall. But mainly she listened.

From the rooms below muffled voices of her mother and father wafted through the floor. Sometimes they were loud and she could hear every word clearly. That is when the pain in her chest would come. It would be slight at first, like a tiny butterfly battering its delicate wings against her insides. Then it would grow stronger with the voices of her parents. Untill it stabbed at her heart in sharp thin strokes, making her curl up with pain. But Jenny never cried out. Instead she covered her ears with her small hands and cried silent tears into her pillow. All the time wishing her mother and father would stop shouting at each other and love her.

Seven year old Jenny stood on the concrete grey path. Her eyes shut, arms wide. Her finger tips stretching out to the exhilarating void she had spun herself into. Untill it faded and reality returned. Again she stepped round and round, one foot following the other. Untill she was once again dizzy, her body trying to defy gravity as it wobbled and wavered to keep upright. Her mind whirling out into space and back again. It felt good, it felt safe. It was wonderful. the more Jenny spun the better she felt. She wondered if that was how it felt to be loved.

"Jenny!".

The child stoped.Her mother called again.

Suddenly Jenny felt sick. Her mothers voice had a note of anger to it. Jenny's heart missed a beat. What had she done or not done? She could not remember. She felt sick. She was going to be sick.

The mother found the child on the front path with the remains of orange sick dripping down her cotton dress. The rest lay in a pool at the childs feet.

Jenny stood stiff and dumb, watching her mother storm up the path. a tear ran slowly down her face. She braced herself for the blow that would surely come.

Later, Jenny nursed her swollen cheek as she lay in her bed listening. She wanted very much to sleep and to be loved.

*

 

Twenty year old Jenny watched the child in the garden, spinning round and round. She smiled. "You'ii be sick" she thought, and put the tea towel down on the drainer and stepped out into the garden. Laughing, Jenny scooped her daughter up into her arms. Together they spun round and round until they were both quite dizzy, and fell onto the grass in a happy, loving, dizzy heap.