The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📗

“She’s given up on me. And you should, too.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I’m not going anywhere and we’re going to get you some help, okay?” I said determinedly.

He removed his hands from his face and looked over at me with eyes so dead and pained that I wondered why it had taken so long to reach this point.

“We’re going to get you some help,” I repeated.

I remember there were dozens of them in the playground, lots of tiny little bodies running about in brightly coloured T-shirts and sun hats, shouting and screeching. It was almost impossible to keep track of your child the whole time.

It was a hot day, and I sat with Brenda and Dad on a park bench feeling drowsy. All of our minds were elsewhere, mulling over the doctor’s diagnosis. Alzheimer’s. What did that mean? Where would it lead? Usually I was hyper-vigilant, watching Josh like a hawk. But not at that moment.

“Help! Daddy, help!”

I was up on my feet before I was even sure it was Josh, my eyes searching frantically for him, my heart pounding. I couldn’t believe I’d taken my eyes off him!

“Help!”

I ran through the playground, ducking and weaving, searching under slides and inside tunnels.

“Josh?!”

God, where was he?! Who had him?!

I turned in circles, and in a frantic blur I spied the bushes where someone must have been lurking, the car that was speeding out of the car park, the gang of teenage boys who suddenly looked shifty, the dishevelled man who was pulling something metal out of his pocket, something that glinted in the sun…

“Daddy, help!”

“Josh?!” I yelled in a panic, causing everyone to turn and stare.

This was it! I knew it! I’d taken my eye off him for one second and someone had hurt him – was hurting him – and I couldn’t get to him because I couldn’t find him because I’d stopped watching—

And then there he was, being led across the playground towards me by a man in sunglasses.

I rushed towards him, snatching him up and away from the stranger, who went from smiling to shocked in the blink of an eye.

“He… he couldn’t find you,” stammered the man, “I was just…”

I glared at him, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“Thank you,” said Brenda to the man, suddenly appearing by my side, “that was very kind of you.”

The man gave Brenda a smile but shot me a look which suggested he thought I was out of my mind.

“What happened?” I demanded, holding Josh tightly in my arms and checking him over for damage. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” Josh frowned, “my shoelace came undone.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You were screaming like that because your shoelace came undone?”

“Yes. Because I wanted to climb the slide. And you said once before that if I climb the slide with my shoelaces undone I could fall and break my neck.”

I plonked him down on the ground, my hands shaking.

“I can’t believe you were screaming like that because your shoelace came undone!” I snapped.

“I don’t know how to do them up,” wailed Josh, tears springing to his eyes.

“Come on, Sunshine,” I heard my dad say, scooping my son up and carrying him away, “let’s fix your shoelace and then you can show Grandad how fast you can whizz down that slide.”

Brenda gave my arm a little rub before shooting me a sympathetic smile and following after my dad.

I looked around me, catching the puzzled stares of parents before they discreetly turned away. The car that looked like it had been speeding out of the car park was only just crawling through the exit barrier. The gang of teenage boys – just three of them I saw now – had been joined by their parents, who had just walked out of the café. And the dishevelled-looking man was nothing of the sort – he just had that weary, unshaved look of a father with a toddler. He was sipping on a can of energy drink, which glinted in the sun.

I remember Josh asking: “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I told him, struggling to catch my breath. “School jump… school jumper on, okay?”

Josh pulled his tiny red jumper over his head, arms flailing, searching for the sleeves.

I sat on the edge of the floral sofa, my head in my hands, and focused on trying to drag some air into my lungs. My forehead felt clammy against my palms. I glanced at the carriage clock on the shelf and concentrated on the second hand ticking round.

Come on, come on, come on.

Josh, his jumper stuck over his head, flapped one of his sleeves up and down like a trunk and made a loud elephant noise.

“BBBBRRRR!” he trumpeted. “BBBRRRRR!”

I tried to breathe slowly and deeply, but I could feel my chest tightening, my lungs begging for more air.

“BBBRRR! Daddy, what aminal am I? BBBRRRR!”

“Josh, shh,” I muttered quietly.

“Guess, Daddy! BBBRRR!”

“Shush!” I snapped.

Josh pushed his head through the hole and peered at me, wide-eyed.

I felt a stab of guilt. He was just trying to inject some fun into the morning, but the noise really wasn’t helping.

I waited for the knock on the door, willing it to come quickly. I felt my head growing light and as I glanced round the room, the objects seemed to shift and blur; Brenda’s collection of ceramic pig ornaments, her pot plants that were slowly dying under my care, her bookcase full of crime novels, my pillow and duvet discarded on the floor, Josh’s plastic cars and Spiderman toys, our breakfast plates still covered in crumbs… There was once neat orderliness in Brenda’s little flat. Now, since she’d entrusted the place to me and Josh, there was chaos.

“Auntie Laura!” Josh cried, jumping up.

I hadn’t even heard the knock.

I stayed where I was and let him open the door.

“Hey, munchkin!” I heard her squeal.

She followed Josh inside and stopped abruptly when she saw me.

“You look like crap,” she stated.

“I’m fine.”

I stood up quickly, grabbed Josh’s school bag and thrust it into her arms.