April 27th, 2020 Poetry/micro-fiction Challenge Winner #2
Elaine sliced off the mackerel’s head and gutted it on the chopping board. Roger had never liked her cooking fish. He’d insist the smell would linger for days, absorbed in every fiber of fabric in their house. He also hated loud music. She turned the radio up, letting the mellifluous tones of Nina Simone wash through her. This was a great track. Okay, not political, like Mississippi Goddam, but bold, fun, unashamedly sexy - music for the soul.
The front door slammed.
Hayley appeared over Elaine’s shoulder, “I’m not eating that!” She slung her school bag on the floor, opening the refrigerator. “It’s gross.”
Elaine let a sigh escape, “Nice to see you too.” She discarded the head and spine in the food-waste bin.
“How is this different from eating fish-fingers?”
“Er, I’ve seen its eyes?” Hayley emerged, biting into a large sausage roll, little flakes of pastry sticking to her lip balm. This kid would happily exist on insipid, yellow food if she could: chicken nuggets, French fries, pot noodles. She rested her elbows on the worktop, dubiously sifting through some spinach. “You remember the fish we won at the fair?”
Elaine rinsed her hands, “Rusty. Lasted two weeks.”
They peered at the two mackerel heads, sitting atop eggshells and used teabags. The glassy, dilated pupils reminded her of an old college boyfriend. She let the vacant expression and gaping mouth mesmerize her for a while.
“So, Mum, don’t get excited or anything. But I have some news.”
Elaine’s head snapped up. Hayley retreated, spinning a barstool around with one hand, then wheeling it back down in the other direction.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, love.”
“I got a part in the school show. No big deal,” Hayley shrugged with a grin that would betray her.
“That’s amazing! You didn’t mention anything.”
“Wasn’t sure if I’d audition.”
“What’s the show?”
“Titanic...the all-singing, all-dancing musical.”
Elaine felt her expression mirror Hayley’s smirk, the fleeting connection flooding her with warmth.
“Tasteful. What’s your part?”
“Rose. I get to sing.”
Elaine couldn’t help but leap in the air, clasping her hands together. When she threw Roger out, it was inconceivable they’d be having this conversation. Hayley had been stunned by her father’s grubby affair - Elaine less-so - but the girl’s laughter evaporated overnight. No more singing. Disconcerting quiet expanded in each room.
“Hey, check this out,” unzipping her bag, she dragged out a hat with colossal plumage and plastic grapes fastened to its brim. “I get to wear this monstrosity.”
“Celebratory bonfire tonight? It could mysteriously disappear.”
Her daughter smiled, “Tempting. But go big or go home, right?”
“True. I’m proud of you.”
“Same.” Hayley came closer, nudged her gently, “You’re inspiring, Mum.”
Elaine filled the sink, smiling, “What’s that look for?”
“You’ll think of it.”
She frowned. “The car scene?!” she gasped. “The naked sketching!”
“It’s totally family-friendly, okay?”
Their laughter bloomed, reaching out into every corner of the kitchen, and settled like gold-dust before they erupted again.
The Author
Fiona Nichols is a former middle grades and high school teacher from England with a love of reading and writing stories. Since gaining a Masters in 'Children's Literature and Writing for Young Adults' at Birkbeck, London, and having twins, she is currently living in New York, concentrating on writing short stories and her first novel.
She loves ferry rides into Manhattan, playing soccer with the family, and curling up with a great book beside a cup of tea.
Fiona Nichols, New York, NY
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