WT Banter unknown chapter six (revision 1 complete 879 words)
Banter unknown chapter number six
[This goes just after uc05.]
“OK, there’s no seam,” said Emily. “Give me the corner.”
“What are you going to do, bite it open?”
“Yes, now squeeze it.”
Chris pinched and twisted the corner of the jiffy bag.
“Feels like it’s well padded, whatever it is. Ready?”
“Hold it up.”
Emily opened her mouth, took the packaging in and bit down. She tasted cardboard and something else, lime?
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Emily flicked her gaze at Chris, then shut her eyes and grabbed the package with both hands.
She pulled but the lime-flavoured bag was unyielding. Her front teeth felt like they might give a little. She switched to a molar grip. Come on Mil, she told herself. We’ve got to get this open. Focus.
“You’re worrying away like a terrier there Mil,” Chris said.
Emily felt her hands and her teeth move apart very slightly. It’s going, she thought. But no more. She opened her mouth and spat lightly.
“I think it gave a little,” she said. “You take the other corner.”
Chris did as she asked.
“No wait,” she said. “Put it under your arm so you’ve got one hand free.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Yassa massa.”
“Right, now put your other hand on my forehead.”
“I was wondering what you were going to say there. Thought my luck might be in. I know giving orders gets some women going.”
“Chris, hurry up.”
“Okay okay.”
“Right, now when I say, push as hard as you can.”
Chris nodded.
Emily gripped the corner again.
“Rrrrr,” she said.
“You want me to push?”
“Rrrr.”
“Here goes then.”
Emily felt Chris’s palm turn from fleshy to hard as he tensed. She bit down harder, locking every muscle around her jaw, then her whole head, and her neck. The watery pulsing of her own blood made itself heard behind her ears.
Chris’s voice sounded dim in her constricted ears. “A bit more,” he grunted.
Emily screwed her eyes tight shut. Nothing existed except the lime-flavoured twist between her teeth and her biting. Then something else did exist. Light leaking through a blackout curtain in her mind, a picture was painting itself on the inside of the nape of her neck. A picture that had been erased years ago.
The lime changed to a bitter spice and the sounds of shouting men flooded into the silence. They repeated one word over and over. Emily could not make out the word. Or did she not want to? She realised she knew what the word was.
Had she denied it all these years? No, it had been denied to her by another.
She landed with a sharp crack on the back of her head. The bitter spice was replaced by a thick water with a rich flavour. The men no longer shouted the word, which Emily now shied away from admitting to herself. Instead they were cheering. Gradually the men’s cheering softened into a hubbub of mixed voices.
A child’s voice said “What are they doing, Daddy?”
“It’s performance art, darling, look away and look where you’re going.”
“But what did it mean?”
“Clearly it’s saying that the endless quest for material goods is reducing us to the condition of beasts.”
“Oh.”
A man led his little girl away from Emily and towards the National Theatre. What had he meant by beasts? She realised that her eyes were open. She was on Waterloo Bridge, lying on the pavement. The back of her head hurt. Chris loomed into view.
His mouth hung open and he was staring down at Emily. In his hands was the jiffy bag, one corner of which was missing. She spat out the lime-flavoured wet mess that had once been the corner.
“Are you alright?” said Chris.
“Bit of a bump on the head,” said Emily, adding “ow” as she felt the tender spot.
She wondered if she should tell Chris about the memory that had been induced by savaging the package. She decided not, she needed to straighten out what it was for herself. But she could not forget the word the men had been chanting.
“Are you hoping to catch flies in that?” she said, meaning Chris’s open mouth.
The man closed his mouth but continued to stare at her.
“Are you going to help me up or are you going to stand there gawping?” Emily reached a hand up.
Chris said nothing and did not move to help her.
“Maybe you should stay lying down.” He backed away half a step.
Emily propped herself up on one elbow and raised her head to keep Chris in view. A wave of dizziness jolted from the back of her head.
“I see what you mean,” she said and sank back to the pavement.
The sun was glaring and she closed her eyes, just for a second.
A cold hand touched her neck. Emily jerked away.
“It’s alright,” said a man’s voice. “I’m a trained first-aider.”
Emily opened her eyes. She was surrounded by people, all standing and looking down at her except for the first-aider. None of them were familiar.
“Chris,” she said, then shouted “Chris! Linda! Bob!”
She propped herself up again, but slower this time.
“You just stay there,” said the first-aider. “The ambulance will be here soon.”
