Page 26, Line 26 by Hayden Maskell

Inspired by Line 26, Page 26 of ‘Two Worlds’ by Anne Salmond

–By his bloodshot eyes, by his breath. I could tell. Swaying. Couldn’t stand upright, Mary. Swaying.

That was all Cass would go on about. On and on about Dan and his drinking and drug taking and the rest. I had not the patience nor time, but the short, patchy hedge between our driveways made it impossible to avoid Cass and her ceaseless list of Dan’s misdemeanours and disappointments. It took me far too long to realise she didn’t want neighbourly advice from an old woman. Cass only ever spoke, I only ever listened, Dan only ever appeared and disappeared, arrived and left, in and out.

–He doesn’t even look at me unless he’s been on it, Mary.

–Ah dear.

–And what’s worse? Last Friday, I thought we might do something.

–Really?

–I got a text. A bloody text, Mary, that he was at the pub with Tony and other Dan.

–Really.

–Too pissed to call me. At four thirty.

I grunted, just as Dan appeared on the driveway.

–Hey, love. Hi, Mary.

I nodded and took the opportunity to duck back inside. Not that there was a lot to get back to. Mick had left little to me in death, though had given plenty in life. He did with everybody. Some men light up the room, but they are usually brash boors. Mick was windows, freshly painted walls: he reflected light, made you feel bright and visible, perhaps more than you deserved. He listened and it healed wounds. He was everything Dan was not.

Well. Dan, at least, was home.

Hayden Maskell