Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

“Yes.”

“Good.” She squeezes the lighter and then blows the smoke out really hard.

When Carol starts speaking, Leon can see how she’s changed. Her teeth and her fingers are yellowy brown like mustard and her cheeks go in like a skeleton. And she smells different. She keeps putting the cigarette in her mouth and leaving it a long, long time and then when she talks all the ash drops off the end and wisps of smoke curl around her words.

“You all right?” she asks and she nods to tell him what the answer should be.

Maureen brings in two cups of coffee.

“There you go, two sugars.”

Carol takes the cup and Leon sees it shake in her hand.

“Can’t control things these days,” she says, trying to laugh. “Not as bad as I was though. Not by a long shot. I never knew nothing about nothing,” she says. “I was so ill I couldn’t tell you my own name.”

Maureen shakes her head.

“They said I had that postpartum depression when I had my baby. My mom was the same when she had me and they hospitalized her. They gave you electric-shock treatment in them days.”

Leon watches her trying to hold the cup with two hands and smoke her cigarette at the same time.

“Then I lost touch with Tony, that’s Jake’s dad. I thought he was the one, I really did. And, anyway, I just went to pieces. No one’s fault. Took me months to get better. I was in the hospital for a bit and then they gave me a room in the Maybird Center.”

“Maybird Center?” asks Maureen.

“There’s two on-site social workers round the clock. It was so noisy I felt like I was going round the bend, so I moved out. Thought it was best for everyone if I stayed clear, you know, get myself straight, and I’m getting there. I am. But when I got in touch with the Social they said they’d given my baby away. Broke my heart.”

They are all quiet.

“They took my baby,” she says and starts to cry again so that her coffee shakes in the cup. “My baby.”

Maureen puts her hand on Carol’s and squeezes.

“Leon took it very badly too, Carol,” says Maureen.

Leon wants to tell Maureen to mind her own business. She should leave him and his mom to be alone. Carol sniffs.

“I don’t know what to do. It’s one step forward and then I can’t cope.”

Maureen takes the cup out of Carol’s hand and gives her a tissue to wipe her tears. Leon gets a biscuit.

“Leon’s missed you, love. Haven’t you, Leon?” Maureen says with a fake voice.

Leon says nothing.

“He’s hoping you can get back on your feet. He’s doing well at school but we’ve had one or two setbacks with meeting his targets, nothing serious but it’s been hard on him. Hasn’t it, Leon?”

“No.”

Maureen shakes her head.

“Are you moving back here now then, Carol? Now you’re a bit better?”

His mom isn’t listening. She is staring at the dead eye of the television. She looks like she’s reading the paper, because her lips are moving. Maureen and Leon look at each other because neither of them knows what to say. Eventually Carol finds her words.

“It was the best day of my life when I found Alan. That’s who brought me. He’s dead good to me. Runs his own business. Pool hall.” She pats Leon twice on his jeans.

“Wants us all to go out to the seaside. We can go in his sports car. You love cars, don’t you? He said he’s going to take you on the bumper cars. Would you like that?”

Leon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to share his mom all the time. He doesn’t want to share his mom with Maureen. He doesn’t want to share his mom with Alan.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I’m trying, that’s the point. I’m aware of my issues and behaviors.”

She speaks like she’s just learned some new words.

“I’m addressing things. Trying. I’ve got to take it slow. I can only come when Alan can bring me in his car cuz I’m not very good on the bus. Makes me ill.”

Leon sees Maureen raise an eyebrow and fold her arms.

“Makes us all ill, love,” she says. “Anyway, would you like to see Leon’s bedroom? He’s been collecting soccer cards.”

She motions to Leon to stand up.

“You lead the way for your mom, Leon.”

Leon helps Carol up and takes her to his bedroom. It’s funny having her in his room. She doesn’t know where to sit.

“It’s nice,” she says. She looks at his posters on the wall and then she looks out of the window.

“I wonder what time it is,” she says.

She looks at the soccer cards he’s been collecting and sticking on his chart. She keeps saying “that’s nice” and “lovely” and she’s pleased it’s so neat and tidy.

“You like everything in its proper place. You used to be good at organizing and making things nice. I do remember, you know, Leon. I remember you taking care of me.”

She bends her head to his and their foreheads touch. She puts her hands on his cheeks and moves them slowly around his neck, drawing him in, but then suddenly she draws back and takes a deep breath.

“Is it warm in here or is it me?” she says.

She opens his wardrobe and stares at his clothes like she’s counting them. She fiddles with the knob on the door and then notices the certificate he got from school for never missing a day for a whole term and she says she can’t believe how big his feet have become.

“They’re enormous, Leon. You’re going to be tall like my dad. He was six feet four and—”

She catches sight of the picture of Jake on the white carpet and crumples down on his bedroom floor.

“Mom, Mom!” Leon shouts but she is rocking to and fro with her hand outstretched toward the photo. Leon runs downstairs to tell Maureen to come and help him get her up. They sit her on the bed and she starts crying again, saying, “Oooh, oh.”

Maureen has a different voice when she tells her to calm down.

“You’re frightening him, Carol. Pull yourself together.”

Carol goes to light a cigarette.

“I don’t allow smoking upstairs, neither.”

Maureen helps Carol up and takes her arm.

“Come on, up you come. We’ll go down together. Me and Leon will help you.”

They sit her on the sofa.

“Can I have that photo of my baby?” she says. “It’s his birthday next week. And I haven’t got a photograph of him. No one’s even given me a photograph.”

Maureen makes a funny face like she’s trying to find the right words to explain.

“Er, no, Carol. No, you cannot. That picture was taken by me for Leon. Paid for by me. He hasn’t got much else, has he? He’s not at home with you where he should be and he hasn’t got his brother, which he’s finding bloody hard if you don’t mind me saying.”

Maureen folds her arms like she’s finished but she hasn’t.

“And you say you’re not well. That’s also hard for a little nine-year-old. I know because he lives with me and I see it.”

Carol stands up suddenly.

“He’s falling behind at school. Hasn’t made any friends, have you, Leon? And he’s starting to get light-fingered. I’d be worried if he was mine.”

Carol draws the net curtain back and peers through the glass.

“Alan’ll be here in a minute. I better get ready.”

She puts her coat on, puts her handbag in the crook of her arm, and opens the front door. Leon stands next to her and she takes his hand in hers. She squeezes his fingers and he can feel her love traveling all the way down from her heart into his. It’s like special electricity, a secret. They watch for the sports car. His mother used to smell of shampoo and their old house. She used to smell like her bed and her sheets, she used to smell of different cigarettes. She used to smell of beans on toast and bath time. But all he can smell now is Maureen’s air freshener, stronger than the smell of his mom and where they used to live.