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the wall
    bang, bang, bang
    it moans like an animal
    moan, moan, moan
    it slinks away like a snake
    slither, slither, slither
    /
     
    Sarah remembered that poem. She came back from the party that first night and thought of so many things. The next day she didn’t know what to do, so she just started writing things down, and realised her head felt like someone had removed a bind from it. Like someone had unhooked her push-up bra, and she could inhale fully.
    There were other poems, mostly one poem for each occasion when Sarah knew her dad had cheated on her mum. One of the recent ones she wrote was … well, it wasn’t her favourite, because she hated these poems. She hated them with force enough to burn up and light them afire. But she felt something for this poem, and even now, thinking it over made her body fill with hatred, like it was a substance, filling her hollow shell up and making her alive with the feeling.
     
    /
    When is a bar full of alcohol?
    When is work full of papers?
    When is night full of sleeping?
    When is he not full of shit?
    /
     
    Not long after she’d been lost thinking, she heard the familiar rumble of her mum’s car tires crunching on the gravel up her best friend’s driveway.
    “That’s her. Thanks for having me,” Sarah said, and made to rip open the front door to get out as quickly as possible.
    “Sarah, wait a sec!” her friend’s mum called.
    Sarah clenched her eyes shut and cursed to herself. Why couldn’t people just let other people be? Why did other people not have the sense to leave others alone when there was a clear sign telling them to stay away?
    “Yes?” Sarah replied.
    “No need to hurry. Grab a bite to eat from the leftovers, or just let me say hi to your mum. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks.”
    Sarah looked at the buttons on her friend’s mum’s top. Sarah realised that, as of a few weeks ago she could lie without a break in her voice, without a stutter or mix-up of words, so long as she didn’t look the person in the eyes. “It’s a family emergency.”
    It was, sort of.
    Sarah slipped out of the house and saw her mum warming her hands on the heating vents. She slipped in the door. Her mum’s hands remained the same, but her eyes were locked on Sarah.
    Sarah dumped her school bag on the floor between her feet and held her hands out, rubbing them in front of her heater.
    “Well, I’ll just get out of their driveway, won’t I?” her mum said.
    She reversed, and made it as far as a few houses down before the car slowed. Her mum seemed as surprised by this as Sarah was, with staggered movements as she checked the side mirror, turned in and slowed. Their car stopped on the side of the road and Sarah’s mum moved her hand closer to Sarah’s vent, and Sarah realised she should move hers closer. When their hands touched, her mum grabbed onto her hand and entwined their fingers together.
    “I’m not even sure where to start. I was so worried where you were. I was mad at you for just disappearing—I’m your mum! I was …”
    Her mum drifted off, and Sarah dared to look at her. A single teardrop was balled at her eye; then it burst and dripped down her nose, the side of her lip, and then plopped into her lap. Sarah bit her lip. She told herself to be strong, and looked out of her passenger-side window, counting the houses until they became dots down the hill and disappeared on the other side.
    “I found out two weeks ago.”
    So she wasn’t talking about Sarah staying out, but Sarah knew that anyway. This was so much worse. She would have been able to handle hearing her mum going ballistic at her, and Sarah would say her apologies, and sleep, and feel shitty that her mum had ruined her night. Sarah already knew before it happened how much tougher it would be to receive this speech.
    “We decided not to tell you until things were formalised, until the so-called ‘dust’ had settled a bit. God, even the end sounds so calculated. Like everything