Gravity

Published in Pure Slush Volume 7

That was the day she filled the bath with Lux Flakes. “Best way to soften the skin,” she’d said. I remember a towel twice my size, a hairdryer chord twisted in knots, and a smothering of talcum powder on my skin. Then back-to-the-womb warmth from the cosy electric blanket.

I recall my grandmother closing my storybook as I feigned sleep. It had birds in it: wings, flight patterns, and the kind of insects they liked to eat. There was a kiss on my forehead as she turned to descend the stairs. An echo of applause came up the staircase, with a voice that announced Opportunity Knocks on the TV. “Sings like our Shirley,” she’d said to my grandfather back on the settee.

I remember the patterns in the curtain. Their ever-changing shapes, like clouds that rolled across the sky; a Viking boat that would transform itself into a house on fire. A woman with her infant as she escaped the flames. Images like these would follow me. A yellow haze danced back and forth on the wall from the gap between the curtains. The tap of tree branches on the panes of my window. And footsteps outside as they crunched across the gravel. It’s all very clear to me now. I’d listened to the clatter of keys on the front door as they repeatedly missed their spot. “I just need some space,” she’d said.

“I’ve given you everything,” he’d said.

“You’ve given me fuck all.”

“You can’t leave me.”

“Watch me,” she’d said, as they’d both stumbled through the door.

That night a yelp ripped through my body and tore me from my sleep. I stepped towards my bedroom door—one, followed by the other. The creak of the floorboards, like lost souls from beneath. Hidden behind the door, I put my ear to the wood before looking; I could hear my father halfway up the stairs, then looked to see what I thought was red paint on the wall. And on hearing me, he turned.

I remember that look, his eyes wide open, then hushed voices from down below. My grandfather had passed him, scooped me up, and then placed me back in my bed. He was pulling my sheet back over my legs, hushing me to be still. I focused on my bedside clock; Mickey Mouse had flicked his arm to a quarter over midnight. I squeezed my eyes so very tightly closed.

(Another faded memory—I was sitting on the bus with my mother another week later, just the two of us huddled together for warmth. Air bit at the tips of my fingers. Clouds billowed from our mouths. She held me tight to her chest and I felt her quickened heartbeat. And as she pressed the button to stop, the bus came to a halt. She opened the striped pushchair and dropped me into its clutches. My feet skipped along the stones as we trundled forward. Playground. Preschool. Police station. Our destination I don’t recall.)

I remember this part of my story more clearly. A week later, I heard footsteps crash up the stairs to our home and a shout that rang in my ears. My eyes shut tight. My hands twisted the wet corner of my pillow. And as her voice screamed out, I held my breath for an eternity as I listened to the sound of my mother falling down the stairs once more.

It wasn’t long before the ambulance arrived. I can see the man in the fluorescent yellow jacket. The smell of disinfectant on him. I looked deep into his eyes and could see inside him—like I could feel the beat of his heart. I remember the trickle of blood from her ear. I can see it all now.

The following week, my grandparents sat on either side of me in the car. The silence only broken by the squeal of the tyres as the car turned into the church. I remember the expressions people wore; as if all pigment were sucked away. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins, all assembled outside the church. Even the strangers, scavengers that clung to the moment as they fed on my emotions. I remember an oil slick inside, sloshing back and forth from somewhere deep within.

I can see the yellowed slabs of stone that sat upright in the grass, awkward teeth left to sallow in the cemetery with only insects for company. I felt the cold mist on my face as everyone gathered. As my grandmother pulled me in close and withdrew deep into her arms, I bit down upon my tongue and savoured the blood. Gravity’s pull taking me down, deeper into the earth.