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Sport 31: Spring 2003
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Afterwards, I have a shower and quietly unpack my clothes from the suitcase. I go into the kitchen and fill the empty kitchen shelves with the bottles of plums. Something has been ringed with red biro in the newspaper lining the box. I take the paper and an opened jar of plums over to the table. The newspaper is yesterday's. The ad ringed is for a house for sale near where my mother lives. This is ‘suitable for a young family’. The property boasts ‘established fruit trees’. It is about half the price of the inner-city apartment we are planning to buy. But it is in Christ church and we are not. My boyfriend can't stand flatness.
I must ring my mother to let her know I got home safely; she will worry if I don't and I will worry about her worrying.
I must phone before my boyfriend wakes up because he will require full attention. He will have to be fed. We will have to go out spending money that isn't ours.
I must ring my mother. But not now. Right now I just want to sit at my kitchen table and eat my bittersweet plums. Now I just want to sit here alone and plan the future, tinker tailor soldier sailor, counting the stones.