Thank You For Protecting Me

Trigger warning: depictions of suicide

I drag myself up the ladder. I am tired, so very tired. 

In here I am protected from the world and all the horrors it holds. I wonder what my father would say if he was with me in the treehouse now. He built it for me and Josie, his twin girls. Mother shouted at him, “You shouldn’t spend all your days making that shed for the children. Anyone would think they mean more to you than I do”.

She never came to see it. 

He loved us dearly and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He was tall, kind and very patient; our rock, our strong dependable father. Oh Dad, how I wish you were with me now.

The leaves sieve the sunshine onto the faded wooden planks. Years ago the treehouse was the highest point in the garden and we thought it was as tall as a skyscraper. As the years passed, trees in neighbouring gardens grew, surrounding and sheltering it from the storms.

I pour myself a large glass of wine. I pause to consider whether I should drink it straight from the bottle, no one would see, but the habit of drinking from a glass has developed and I have standards. I am nothing like my mother.

I perch on the bed and stroke the mattress. Josie and I used to sleep out here in the summer. We whispered and giggled under the covers before settling down for the night. When we were tiny, Dad stayed with us, zigzagging his body to fit a space that was far too small for him. I don’t think he had much sleep on those nights, he was just glad we were enjoying life. As we grew older we were allowed to sleep out alone and Treehouse kept us safe. We talked about growing up; how we would move into a flat together, go to university and have exciting holidays. The future mapped itself out before us, we only needed to choose the road to our favourite outcome.

Oh Josie, I miss you so much, I wish you were with me now.

I pour myself another glass of wine and wonder why I can’t drink away the memory of the day Josie left us. She was a superb tennis player and Dad was taking her to a county match. I helped her load up her bag, shoes and racquet and waved her off. On the way home a van pulled out of a side road and smashed into the passenger side of Dad’s car. 

He came home with her racquet.

I darted here, frightened and screaming. I kicked you Treehouse, and howled until you wrapped your stillness around me and I fell asleep.

Everything changed. Mum drank every day. All those plans we made together had disintegrated. My grades dropped and I left school at sixteen.

I wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

I found myself a job. I was the youngest in the building and people looked out for me. The work was boring, but there was a happy atmosphere and I looked forward to going in each day. There were some great lads there and I went out with most of them, but I grew very close to Phil who worked upstairs. 

One night he walked me home and I wanted to invite him in, but Mother was drunk and I didn’t want him to see her in that state. Instead we climbed into Treehouse and lost our virginity on this mattress. 

I loved Phil and was certain that he loved me too.

The following evening we were creeping round the side of the house when Mum staggered out. She yelled and swore at us and threw a bottle at Phil. He didn’t retaliate but shouted at me, “If you become anything like your mother, I’m finished”. My bottom lip quivered as he deserted me.

I stumbled to you, Treehouse, and cried most of the night. Eventually you curled your comfort around me and I slept. The next day, I telephoned work to say that I was sick. I spent most of the time crying and dozing. Mother had no idea of the damage she had done and Dad was away on business. I was alone in my misery.

I returned to work the following day, dreading the thought of seeing Phil, but my colleagues told me he resigned the previous day to move north with his boyfriend. I was so angry.

I pour myself another drink.

Mother became increasingly difficult. She was drinking all the time and needed help. I tried to talk to her when she was sober, but she hurled abuse at me, refusing to admit she had a problem. She was ill, really ill.

Dad tried and received the same response. It wasn’t long before he abandoned me too.

Dear Dad, I wish you were with me now.

Mother’s health deteriorated. I was doing the shopping and all the housework. She couldn’t leave the house and it shames me to say that I bought alcohol for her. She used to be an elegant and tidy woman, but had got to the point where she could no longer keep herself clean. Her face was puffy and yellow and her understanding of the world about her non-existent. 

I take long lunch breaks so I can get home, clean her up and try to her encourage her to eat. Her illness has maimed both her body and her mind. Most days she doesn’t recognise me.

Oh Dad and Josie, I’m so angry that you both left me to look after her. I wish you were here now.

I empty the wine bottle into my glass.

It’s a holiday weekend, but Mother doesn’t know the date. She doesn’t know anything. 

This morning I did the housework and got her up. I bathed her, put clean sheets on her bed and made her some dinner. She grabbed a bottle but refused to eat, blaming me for the poor grade of whisky she was drinking.

She didn’t know that the unusual taste was because I had dissolved her tablets in it. Her bloodshot eyes were blind to the sediment. I’d done it before; there’s no other way to get pills into her and without them she’s violent.

She was getting sleepy, so I helped her into bed, tucked her in and kissed her forehead. 

“Goodbye Mother”. She was still grasping a part bottle of whisky.

I feel guilty about the huge dose of tablets I gave her, but she’ll never know anything about it. I went round the house closing the windows and locking the doors, and then came out here.

I unscrew the lid from my second wine bottle and fill my glass. The sunshine has lost its power and I’m feeling cold.

It’s time.

I swallow pills by the handful, washed down with wine. It’s much easier than I anticipated. 

“Goodbye Treehouse. Thank you for protecting me.”