Gill O’Halloran

Content Warning

drug addiction

I gotta stay clean on this court order or I’ll get banged up. The magistrate said I mustn’t fall off the bandwagon. I dunno what a bandwagon is. All I know, it’s my last chance.

I seen the dog in the window of SCOPE. A china dog. I go in all sad face and bargain the woman down to £1.50, then feel bad and put another 50p in the jar. My aunt was a cripple, and it weren’t her fault. I wrap the dog in my gloves in my pocket. It’s freezing out but they’re keeping Pocapoodle warm. Yep, that’s the dog’s name. Don’t laugh! That was my dog when I was 10. I’d just seen Pocahantas on the telly. Pocahontas was thin like me, but SO beautiful. Like my dog.

#

“You can’t call a dog Pocahantas. She’s a spaniel not a red Indian.”

”American Indian, idiot. And I can if I want. Mum says she’s mine to name. Cos

mum’s sorry she hit me. And anyway, you got a new lunchbox.”

”Fuck off.”

”Fuck off yourself, idiot.”

”Muuum, Anna said you said she can name the dog, and it’s not fair; lunchboxes

don’t have names.”

”Oh boo-hoo. Suck it up Jakey-boy, she’s Anna’s.”

Pocahontas became Pocapoodle cos dogs are better than girls. Like dad said, anything’s better than a girl.

#

I’m back at the hostel just in time for my keyworker. Keep my hands in my pockets. 

”What’s in your pocket?”

”Just something.”

”What? Show me! Is it weed?”

I pull out Pocapoodle.

Fran, my keyworker starts laughing. Later she said she never did. Liar.

“Well, keep your room locked or someone’ll have that.”

I thought she was taking the piss but she said she meant it. Like people would steal stuff out your room just to mess with your head.

Up in my room, I sit Pocapoodle on my bedside table near the window, so her shine looks even shinier. She’s smiling. I know people say they don’t smile, but they do. My Pocapoodle always smiled at me and barked at Jake. Especially when he came into my bedroom. And at mum whenever she was horrid.

Pocapoodle’s tail ain’t china, it’s real hair, silky silver and really long. I make the soft strands stroke my cheek. I can hear some guy playing rap next door. Think he’s a dealer. Everyone here’s doing my head in. They want me to stay clean, so why put me in with a bunch of crackheads?

If she breaks, I’ll start using again. I hope she don’t break. I get out my tobacco to make a few rollies for after dinner. I put Pocapoodle on one knee, tobacco pouch on the other. She better not break. 

It was dad gave me my first hit. To help me come down. I love dad but he shouldn’t of done that. Anyway, he got clean, so I didn’t make a fuss in case it made him go back on the gear. I never told anyone neither.  

I put Pocapoodle on the window ledge while I wipe bits of tobacco off the table. If I open a window, I could probably get away with smoking a roll-up in my room. So what, even if I get caught. This place is shit.

When mum heard I was up in court she said she’d come but she never did. I kept looking for her. She gets migraines so I guess it was one of her migraine days. She says she’ll visit me in the hostel, but I don’t know if I want her to. She won’t stay long even if she does cos she don’t like places like this.

I open the window, lie back on my bed, inhale deeply. Wish I had a spliff. 

      Sometimes things break, and it’s not your fault. 

             Sometimes things break even if you’re careful. 

                    Sometimes things break cos you just don’t care.  

A draft catches Pocapoodle’s tail and it flutters like it’s wagging. My Pocapoodle’s tail did that when I’d get home from school cos she was so happy to see me. I miss her like mad and no-one’s telling me what happened. 

                                             Sometimes things break 

                                                     cos it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

I open the window just a little wider, and the way she falls it’s like an angel, with her tail all flared out like silvery wings.

Gill O’ Halloran’s TV doesn’t work. Turquoise makes her happy, as do lidos. Her poetry book ‘This Seven Year Old Walks Into a Bar’ was published when her cat was only 40, but now the cat’s 100 there’s just time to squeeze some stories into tight spaces.
Gill has just been longlisted for the June 2024 Bath Flash Fiction Award.
Find her on X @poetrypleases and https://www.instagram.com/gillohal1/