Water Fountain

One mother stranded in a glass shopping complex. The water fountain entrances her. Every drop of water rises and falls, flows seamlessly, invisibly. It shimmers brilliantly, the yellow beams emanating from McDonalds' golden arches reflect a dull rainbow that appears to float above a young boy with fair hair, who is being picked up by the handles of his denim dungarees.

One mother is feeling the Valium kicking in. Her fears are recycled, they are fears that every woman has felt since the beginning of time. She wants to fit in and flow. She forgets about her boy, she forgets about her water bills, she forgets about her MOT test failure, she forgets about her crooked toe-nail and her cheap haircut. For one moment she feels free.

The boy in dungarees has his mouth stuffed with a soiled sock. Muted cries are made, but that really does not affect his plight. The woman with her arm around the boy leaves behind a plastic Superdrug bag. Inside the bag there is around fifty unsuccessful pregnancy tests. The woman navigates the crowded shopping centre erratically, she bumps into a few chavs in pink cotton tracksuits: "OI WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU DOZY MARE!". She doesn't look around, and she doesn't notice that all four of the girls are pregnant. She doesn't resent every piece of fertile blood that streams through their clitoral blood-vessels. She doesn't curse every single iron globule of waste that she sheds every 28 days; for now she has a baby of her own.

One mother gets splashed by a droplet of water. She shudders and her eyes focus on the water fountain properly. She clearly sees the blond child splashing about like a drunken dog in the sea, but only now does she realise it is some other woman's son. Panic hits her and saturates her nerve endings, her stomach drops down to her ankles and her wrists begin to shake. Her mind plays a kaleidoscope of the past ten minutes, an image of the water fountain, spins into an image of the water fountain, dissolves into an image of the water fountain. Once more she is frozen, entranced by the water fountain. It is not flowing seamlessly, the blond boy is interrupting the flow.

She realises that she used to fit in and flow. Not anymore. She thinks. But she forgets how on this exact date three years ago an unsuspecting mother was fishing for her bus pass in the fountain. She forgets how she saw the anger in the mother's eyes as the fair-haired baby cried for some milk. She forgets the burning streak of jealousy that she felt shoot through her veins. She forgets the callous act of theft that she performed. She forgets noticing the way that the water splits and sprays around the arm of the aggravated mother. She forgets picking the baby up, carefully cradling its neck, wrapping it up in her cardigan and walking towards the exit sign slowly and deliberately.

One woman stranded in a glass shopping complex. The water fountain entrances her. Every drop of water rises and falls, flows seamlessly, invisibly.