When Nobody Came to Stay

November 2020: Mum Life Stories Micro-Fiction Writing Competition – 3RD PLACE

Emile was the pass-the parcel-gift nobody wanted to end up with. He arrived with shadows under his eyes and a bag of bad dreams. The sun was melting the bitumen, but Emile was zipped up in his anorak.

‘Would you like to take off your jacket, Emile?’

He shook his head. A grubby plush tiger peeped over his zipped-up coat.  

‘What’s your tiger’s name?’ I asked.

‘Nobody.’ He hid its head with his palm.

‘Hello, Nobody. Would you like to come in, Emile? Shall we look at your bedroom?’

Upstairs we unpacked his things. I asked if he liked the sea-blue of his room and the park view from the window. He pressed his lips, then said. 

‘Nobody wants a glass of milk.’ 

‘Okay, let’s get him one.’

In the kitchen, I refilled Emile’s glass three times and he told me Nobody was very thirsty.

‘Would you like something to eat?’ I opened the fridge.

‘Nobody wants peanut butter and bread.’

I cut it in little squares, just like Nobody wanted me to.

For weeks, Emile showered then sheltered back inside his anorak. Nights were often a stream of tears and wet sheets. Feathery dreamcatchers soon hung like planets in his room. My head felt like woolly socks, eyes gritty with fatigue.    

Almost daily, Emile draped my much-loved tiger print blanket over the dining table.

‘Come in the cat-cave,’ he said.

In I’d go, then he’d crawl around with Nobody.

‘You be the mummy tiger and we’ll be the babies.’

Only then would Emile cuddle up with me.    

Over the months, I shopped for animal print clothing: long socks, hats with ears, gloves. We were a tiny zoo in the cat-cave. Emile giggled at our zebra torsos, leopard heads and lion’s paws.

Then it happened. Nobody lost his tail. We searched the house, street, school. Emile’s face was a swollen burning red ball. 

‘We’ll make him a new one, Emile. I’ll get material tomorrow.’

‘NOW!’ he shouted. ‘He needs it now!’

I cut a piece from my tiger blanket, sewed it, stuffed it, and stitched it onto Nobody. While he watched, Emile’s chest heaved and he told me Nobody needed warm milk and chocolate biscuits.

We ate them in the cat-cave. Emile didn’t crawl around this time.

‘Nobody needs a forever-home.’ He said.

I nodded. In fifteen months, there had been no adoption offers. For the first time, with the exception of tail surgery, Emile handed me Nobody. His tiger was flat, letter-thin. Having lived between Emile’s heart and a zip all his life, it wasn’t surprising. 

‘Here.’ Emile said. ‘Nobody needs a forever-home, here.’

I smiled and said. ‘I’ve grown very fond of Nobody. And what about you, Emile? Do you need a forever-home here?’

He blushed, scratched his chest, then put his fingers in his mouth. 

‘Emile?’

He looked at his feet and nodded a tiny yes.