Writing Challenge Day 1

Kiek and Mieke. 1980.

Kiek

We lived in a new residential area in Nieuwegein, in the centre of the Netherlands. Two U-shaped rows of 12 townhouses faced each other, separated by a road and car parks. The enormous paved courtyard had play equipment and garden beds filled with thorny rosehip bushes. It was a perfect playground for hide and seek, bike riding, and tagging. All the houses had a small bike shed opposite the front door and a big kitchen window facing the courtyard. 

It was 1980, a chilly, blue-skied Summer's day, and I had just turned four. Like every other day, I was out front playing with my neighbour and best friend Kirsten, or Kiek as we called her. I saw my mum in the kitchen window washing dishes as I dashed behind our shed with Kiek, tying a rope between the rain pipe and the tree to serve as a net for a game of badminton.

The next minute, my memory goes blank. I feel instant panic and see myself running like a stunned bull, barging through the front door with the badminton racket still in my hand. I slid over the meter of tiled floor before leaping onto the second tread of the narrow wooden staircase, skipping a tread with each leap. On the landing, I gripped the balustrade and swung myself into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I crawled on the carpet, burning the skin on my knees, until I was as far under the bed as I could go. My hands were sweaty and clamping onto something tightly pressed against my chest. I couldn’t breathe and fixed my gaze on the slats at the bottom of my bed, awaiting my fate.

As I lay there, I could, for the life of me, not remember what had just happened. My head was spinning, yet my mind was blank. After a few minutes, which felt like hours, I heard the doorbell ring. I held my breath and hugged the wall as closely as I could. Then I noticed I was holding onto something tightly, and as I looked down, I saw the badminton racket, all smashed up. WHAT HAD I DONE???

Truus, Kiek’s mum’s angry voice, ascended the stairwell accompanied by Kiek’s sobbing. It took all but five counts before my mum yelled up the stairs to come down, RIGHT NOW!!! I knew she knew I was upstairs. I was anything but quiet when I stormed into the house three minutes earlier. I finally took a breath, crawled from under the bed, and stiffly walked down the stairs with my head bowed in immense shame. I still had the smashed badminton racket in my hand.

Truus pushed Kiek closer to me, and my mum said, "I believe you need to apologise to Kiek." I slowly lifted my head, and Kiek’s red face, covered in tears, appeared. I noticed the immense bump on her forehead and the ice pack wrapped in a towel in her hand. I felt the racket in my hand, tried to hide it behind my back, and put two and two together. I must have smashed my racket on her head! Horrified by what I had done, I stammered, "I am sorry, Kiek." Kiek and I had been neighbours for three years and were best friends from the moment we moved in. We never played together much after that event. What had happened for me to react and do such a horrible thing?

I don’t remember the action before my reaction or my reaction itself. It is still a mystery to me. As soon as it happened, it was wiped from my memory. The bad memory that remains is the agony of unconsciously knowing what I had done but not having any recollection of my action and the feeling of panic afterwards while awaiting my fate and the pain I had caused my friend. It lingered in my head for years. What happened for me to smash the racket on her head? And why could I not remember it?

—-