The Reading List(22)
Aleisha loved seeing her mum designing, painting too sometimes. But when she was feeling this way, she stopped everything. She packed away her computer, she put away any materials, and she stopped accepting commissions. It was always the first sign, for Aleisha and Aidan, that things weren’t right.
‘Aleisha, you know if ever you want to get away, you can come and spend some time here. We’d love to see you. Are you on your summer holidays now?’
‘I’ve finished my exams, yeah. But … I’m working. Maybe another time? When things are quieter. Anyway, I’m going to try and get loads of reading done – prepare for uni applications and things. Law … it’s gonna be competitive. Aidan wants me to work hard.’ She stared at the wall, imagining her father sitting in his house, always spotless, with his perfect kids sitting in front of the TV, laughing, joking. She wondered how heavy the air in his new house was.
‘Of course, I understand. That’s good, sweetie, I’m glad you’re taking it so seriously.’ He paused – Aleisha heard a cackling in the background. Someone calling after him. ‘Dad?’
‘I’m really sorry, Aleisha, I have to go. I’m sorry – I’ll call you again soon. But I mean it, okay? If you ever want to visit, you are always welcome.’
‘I know,’ Aleisha said.
‘Okay, bye darling, love you.’ He rang off without waiting for her reply.
‘Bye,’ she said to her empty phone. Desperate to keep her brain working, to avoid the silence of the house around her, she began to scroll through her call log.
Aidan. Aidan. Aidan. Home. Home. Kyle. Dev. Kyle. Home. Aidan.
She went straight to her address book and hit ‘Call’ next to Rachel’s name. She listened to the dial tone, almost hoping Rachel wouldn’t pick up. She didn’t really know what to say. But speaking to her father, hearing his voice, hearing how relaxed it was, it made her feel more useless than ever.
‘Hey little cousin!’ Rachel’s voice chirruped.
‘Hey,’ Aleisha responded, unable to keep the gloom out of her voice. ‘You all right?’
‘I’m so sorry, babe, but I’m just out with friends at the moment. Can I call you later?’
‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ Aleisha replied with a lightness she didn’t feel, not wanting to make Rachel feel guilty for living a normal life. ‘We’ll speak this week, yeah? Have a good night!’ She hung up the phone with a sigh, the only company she had for the foreseeable: her mum’s gentle snores.
Leilah sat beside her, her head slumped against her own shoulder, sleeping peacefully. Aleisha, for one moment, had a desperate urge to shake her, to wake her up, and shout, ‘Mum, talk to me! Let’s talk!’ But just as quickly as the urge arrived, it dissipated.
She pulled out the reading list from her phone case, unfolded it and folded it in her hands, and then she slowly took To Kill a Mockingbird out of her bag. Someone had taken care with this list – they’d curated it. What was in these books? Why had they chosen these ones? Had the reading-list author known their scrap of paper would become someone else’s reading list too?
She looked at To Kill a Mockingbird and felt a drop of awkwardness, remembering how flustered she’d been when she first opened it – as though everyone in the library had been scrutinizing her, wondering what she was doing, acting like some kind of bookworm. But here it was just her, alone. No one here could judge her.
She bent the pages back over the spine and began to read, self-conscious at first, whispering each word cautiously, as if she was reading out loud in an English class, until she allowed herself to enjoy her own gentle rhythm, letting each word linger. Every few lines, she looked over, to see if Leilah showed any signs of waking: but her mum didn’t move at all. She noticed how this book was allowing her to step into two worlds – the world she was in right now, beside her mum, in her house, the air muggy from the heat of the day – and another world, the world of two children, Scout and her older brother Jem, who lived somewhere called Maycomb, a small town in Alabama, where they’d play outside, being foolish, being … children. She would do anything to see life through a child’s eyes again; a time when life wasn’t so serious, and scary neighbours were nothing more than a fun pastime, and family just meant home. From the first few pages, she could tell that Scout definitely cramped Jem’s style, but he put up with her all the same.
‘Mum,’ Aleisha turned to Leilah, whose eyes were still shut tight. ‘What do you reckon about Scout and Jem? Remind you of anyone?’ Aleisha smiled, not expecting a reply, as she caught sight of the photo displayed on the mantelpiece: Aleisha and Aidan, aged 7 and 15, embracing each other (forced to by Leilah, who was directing from behind the camera), with their faces screwed up in mock disgust. She smiled to herself.
Then Aleisha met Scout and Jem’s father. The narrator, Scout, just called him Atticus … it made sense only because he was important. ‘Dad’ seemed too generic for Atticus. He was a lawyer. Wise, kind, fair … She turned to Leilah, her face pulled into a grin. ‘Mum! He’s a lawyer!’ she whispered. ‘A big-shot one in their small little town, it sounds like.’ She could see Atticus through Scout’s eyes – a large man, powerful, someone to be respected. She remembered thinking of her own dad in that way before, a long time ago. It was strange how, once childhood left, your parents became simply human, with fears and worries just like your own.