brain from the inside out. Mark my words.â
âThank you,â Mrs. Blue said. âHave a nice day.â
âWeâll see about that,â the man in the line said, and the register girl said, âYeah,â but Mrs. Blue did not hear them, she was already rolling out of the store with her walker, back to her flat. Around the corner she took the hand cream from under the fur hat and placed it in the bag with the groceries. She pulled the hat over her ears, blocking out the noise from the kids shouting outside Hadiâs Phone Centre, and, keeping her gaze on the pavement, she pushed her rolling walker down the street to her apartment, ignoring all the traffic lights, the passersby, the drivers who shouted at her from behind the wheel when she pushed her walker in front of their cars. Mrs. Blue did not look up at anyone or anything until the doors of the elevator in her building finally closed behind her. The violin music playing in the elevator, which always seemed sad and dooming to her when she was on her way down, now sounded comforting and pleasant, like the sound of the kettle and the tune of her television show.
âIâm here, Gracie,â Mrs. Blue told the television. She had placed all the groceries in the cupboard and was now sitting on the couch, with her tea on the table and the chocolates on her lap. âYou can come out.â
âYour dog needs strong bones,â the television answered. On the screen a dog was running in slow motion. It jumped through a ring. Its skeleton slowly became visible like an X-ray.
âI donât have a dog,â Mrs. Blue said. âThank you anyway.â She looked at the clock. Last time Rick had given Grace a horrible blow on the head. Who knew if Mario could fix his car in time to come save her.
Finally, the clock above her dining table cuckooed. Mrs. Blue sat up on the couch, humming in anticipation.
âToday we are going to talk about pregnant teenagers,â a woman on the television said. âGirls as young as twelve are having babies, some of them from men they have only met once.â People on rows of chairs in front of the woman clapped.
Mrs. Blue didnât clap. She looked at the clock. It was three past.
âSally is just fifteen and pregnant, but she is not sure who the father is.â
âBoo,â the people on the chairs said while Sally walked in.
âNo,â Mrs. Blue said. âItâs time for Change of Hearts .â
âSo what?â the pregnant girl yelled. âSo what I did that?â
Mrs. Blue looked at the clock again, at the screen and back at the clock again. Then she got up to look at the bedroom clock. Three past five. âSomethingâs wrong,â Mrs. Blue said. âThe voice is supposed to come on now and say, âThe heart is a restless thing, where will it take us next?ââ She walked up to the television and narrowed her eyes to read the channel.
âAnd one of the possible fathers is your motherâs ex-boyfriend!â the presenter yelled.
Mrs. Blue looked startled at the screen. A screaming woman ran onto the stage. â Beep ,â she yelled.
âOh.â Mrs. Blue took a step back and lost her balance. She tilted sideways and stumbled over the table, grabbing the tablecloth. The cup got pulled over and tea poured over the chocolates.
âYou beep beep ,â the woman on the TV screamed.
Mrs. Blue got hold of the remote. The tea formed a stream on the table. She switched to the other channels: cars tumbling over straw bales, someone cooking, news, news, girls in a limousine, dancing, a microscope, a building blowing up. âGrace?â Mrs. Blue asked while switching. âGrace?â
But there was no Grace. âWhere is my show?â Mrs. Blue asked, but there was no one to answer her.
There was only Sally. Sally was crying. Her mascara ran down her face. She held her hand on her belly. âAt least I wonât
Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell