Free The Bones of You by Gary McMahon Page B

running shoes. They looked so small; their size made me feel like crying, but I wasn’t quite sure why.
    This was the effect she always had on me: I could never be in control of my emotions when she was around. Like a hurricane, she entered my life and caused chaos, leaving behind a world of emotional debris.
    Jess ran across the café toward me. I stood, smiling, and Holly finally noticed me. Her face was hard. She looked pale, brittle, as if she was on the ragged edge of a whiskey bender. She probably was; she never seemed to be able to get her drinking under control.
    “Hey, baby.” I scooped up my daughter in my arms and held her tight, being careful not too squeeze her so hard that it hurt.
    “Daddy!” Her voice screamed right in my ear, threatening to damage the membrane. I felt her wet lips as they plastered kisses across my cheek. For a moment they felt like my own tears.
    I watched over my little girl’s shoulder as her mother, my ex-wife, walked slowly into the café and across the room. She’d lost a lot of weight. She was wearing a short skirt, and her legs—always on the thin side—looked like they might snap in a strong breeze. Her waist, above the knee-length skirt, was narrower than I’d ever seen it. Thankfully, her upper body was wreathed in a baggy overcoat, so I didn’t get a chance to see how her breasts had probably shrunk, and her ribs might be visible through her shirt. I could tell at a glance that she wasn’t eating. I’d seen this kind of behavior before, and it had broken my heart to watch her whittling away her own body on drink and drugs.
    “Hi,” she said, sitting down at the table. She moved slowly, with elaborate care. I could tell that she was drunk. Maybe even stoned. With her, it was sometimes hard to tell the difference.
    “Did you drive?”
    She shook her head, not even taking the bait and arguing. “He’s in the car. He brought us here.”
    I stared at her.
    “He’s sober…for now.”
    I held on to Jess even tighter, feeling her little body through her clothes. At least she seemed well-fed. Holly might be many things, but she was not a neglectful mother. Despite her alcohol problems, and the fact that her boyfriend was an unrepentant junkie, she always made sure that Jess ate properly, got dressed in the morning, and made it to school with a healthy packed lunch. Sometimes I wished it were different; I prayed that she would slip up and start to be less attentive toward our daughter, forgetting to make sure she was okay. That way I might be able to take over, to be the main parent.
    Then, when I saw how much my girl loved her mother, I felt bad for thinking those things.
    The whole situation was such a fucking mess, and the only people to blame were Holly and me. Our daughter was innocent; she’d done nothing to deserve such shitty parents.
    I sat down. Jess sat in my lap, pleased to see me. She kept talking at me, telling me about her friends at school, the recent trip she’d been on with her class, her favorite teacher…but I kept staring at Holly, shocked by how old she looked. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, so I could see the aging effects the alcohol had on her skin. She wasn’t the same woman I’d once loved; she didn’t even look like her, not anymore.
    “Do you want something? A sandwich? Cup of coffee?”
    Holly shook her head. “I have to get back…to the car. We have plans.”
    I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to know what those plans were or what kind of self-abuse they might involve. Part of me still loved her, but another, greater part of me just wanted her to stop what she was doing because it meant I could cease caring. Every time I saw her, even if it were just for a little while, it felt like the knife that was still lodged in my gut slipped a little, cutting across my abdomen, causing me another moment of pain.
    “I’ll meet you here on Sunday. Noon.”
    I nodded. “See you then.”
    She stood up to leave.
    “Holly?”
    She turned