‘It would be so easy.’ That sentence kept echoing in my head. He had said it so confidently, so persuasively. Like it would be as easy as colouring his hair. Or stealing that wig from the shop over yonder, where there is always an old man coughing. That part had gone well. We had even managed to nick a couple of extra ‘curios’, as my sister liked to call them. But the actual murder part, that was where we got stuck.
We were staring at the body of our mother, and we could not do anything. Her right arm was partially severed, the saw which I had used lying next to it. ‘It would be so easy’, he had said. As easy as chopping wood. He gave me a saw. He told me to store her body parts in the fridge. They would stay fresh that way, see. So that they could be sewn together before the funeral. My sister is really good at sewing. But I don’t think she’d be able to sew my Mommy’s body back together. Her face looked green. But he had lied. Her body was as stiff as an ironing board. I pulled it over, and leaned her up against the refrigerator. There, she looked like she might be sitting. In Jurassic Park. With her hand torn off by a T-rex. That T-rex was my father.
We hated him. He came home every day and he beat Mommy up. He didn’t even drink. We had never seen him touch even a drop of alcohol. He refused the wine at Church every Sunday. He was a good man, said everybody. ‘You’re lucky you have such a nice father’, Auntie who-lives-over-by-the-fence said. But he never was. He punched and kicked and stomped all over poor Mommy’s face till we could not see her face. Yesterday, for the first time ever, he called over my sister and me for a bedtime story. He told us a story from the fairy book Mommy read out from. He told us about a fairy who was very beautiful, but very sad. Then he closed the book. My sister had slept off by now, her head nodding almost in tune to ‘Stayin’ Alive’ playing at Auntie who-lives-over-by-the-fence’s house. She always played that song before she slept. I felt sleepy too, but I struggled to stay up. He looked at us and said, ‘Do you want the fairy to be happy?’ I nodded. ‘Then you should send her away to heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place where the fairy does not have to live in a mud hut, and can eat chocolates everyday and wear new dresses.’ I looked at him in wonderment.
I took one look at the saw. I looked at my sister, who was lying down on the ground in a pool of her own vomit. . ‘Then you should send her away to heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place where the fairy does not have to live in a mud hut and can eat chocolates everyday and wear new dresses.’ I moved towards her. My sister loved new dresses, too.