November 26th, 1989

November 26th, 1989

At home

I thought I was dreaming when I felt someone gently shaking my arm.

“Karen, wake up.”

I opened my eyes to find Lorna standing over me.

“Shit,” I yawned. “My alarm didn’t go off. Are we late?”

“No honey, it’s still early. Your dad’s on the phone.”

“What?”

“Your dad’s on the phone.”

“What does he want?” I asked, sitting up.

“He didn’t say.”

I got up off the couch and when my foot hit the floor, it landed on my clock. I heard and felt the glass shattering.

“Shit,” I shouted, in reaction to the pain. “This better be important.”

 

I hopped, on one foot, into the hall and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Karen, it’s dad,” he said, in a tone I didn’t recognize.

“Is everything ok?” He didn’t answer. “Dad? Why are you phoning so early?” I felt my heart starting to race. “Is mum ok?”

I heard him sigh heavily. “Aye, mum is eh, ok.”

Lorna came into the hall and put a towel on the floor. I lowered my bloody foot onto it.

“What is it, dad?”

“I’m so sorry, hen.”

“Dad, you’re not making any sense. What’s going on?”

“It’s Nana.”

My voice cracked. “Is she ok?”

I felt Lorna’s fingers grip my arm.

“No, hen, I’m so sorry.”

“Why, dad. Why?”

“Your Nana’s dead.”

 

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