Lungfuls Of Air
Her sister, Osila, opened the front door armed with two shopping bags and wiped her feet on the faded welcome mat. She watched Osila leave the bags on the table and walk over to her. Osila tilted her head and asked her how she was but she didn’t respond, she had returned to watching the fish tank. Osila sighed, put the shopping away and started cleaning.
Osila wiped the surface around Jacob’s last meal which was growing new life by the kitchen sink. Osila wouldn’t dare move it. Nor would she open the curtains. After dusting the final wedding photo and placing it back onto the mantelpiece, Osila went over to her one last time to tell her that she would be back next Wednesday and left, shutting the door behind her.
At the noise of the door shutting, the goldfish flitted to the other side of the tank. The sound came at the same time every week but goldfish have no notion of time and little memory so the shock of sound panicked it. That was one of the good things about goldfish, she thought. Without memory they could experience every trauma life could throw at them and have no recollection of it moments later. Then again, without time the goldfish wouldn’t know that it would all be over in 15 seconds. Perhaps to the goldfish it never seemed to go away. After all, her presence no longer fazed the goldfish so it had to remember her somehow.
She bought the goldfish with Jacob when they moved in together. They were the only ones in the pet shop and she could understand why. The paint was flaking off of the walls, the natural light was blocked by the hutches outside and a teenager was smoking at the counter. She pulled her coat tighter around her and grabbed Jacobs hand. He kissed her forehead, told her it was fine and squeezed her hand. They walked down the aisles, their free hands pointing out potential furry candidates. At the end of it was a long dirty aquarium that lined the back of the shop. Jacob bent down to look into it and pressed his finger onto the glass. She bent over to see what he was pointing to and smiled. The goldfish was perfect.
Now there were algae on the tank. She leant over the arm of the chair and picked up a cloth from the floor. Dipping her hand inside the water, she rubbed it away. Dropping the cloth back where it was, she sat back upright with her lugs tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around her thighs and chin resting on her knees. When did it get there? She didn’t know. All she knew was that it wasn’t there and then it was.
She had noticed that the more time she spent with the goldfish, the more this seemed to happen. She tried to remember how much time she had spent with the goldfish but she couldn’t. Osila always said she came on Wednesdays, but when were Wednesdays? The darkness that smothered her and the goldfish meant that day and night and summer and winter and past and present had all rolled into a seamless eternity and with no time to age them, she thought, they would live together forever.
Osila opened the front door armed with two shopping bags and wiped her feet on the faded welcome mat. When Jacob met Osila for the first time, she could remember Jacob going to get them all drinks and Osila leaning over and whispering that she never knew horticulturalists could be so funny. She knew Osila meant white men. Jacob returned with the drinks and told Osila they weren’t unless they’d been smoking their plants. She felt Osila watching them as Jacob then put his arm around her, rubbed his nose against hers and kissed her.
She watched Osila leave the shopping bags on the kitchen table and walk over to her. Osila tilted her head and asked her how she was but she didn’t respond. Jacob had his hands over her eyes and kept telling her not to peek. Giggling and squealing she told him she wasn’t. Jacob asked her if she was ready. He removed his hands and revealed their garden, which he had been working on ever since they moved in. She told him it was beautiful but he had better be ready to keep it this way because she certainly wouldn’t be. Wrapping his arms round her waist and looking into her eyes, Jacob convinced her that he had created it so it wouldn’t need a lot of work. It was his very own Eden, he said, and he was the God. Then he kissed her on the forehead, told her he loved her and left for a drink with friends.
After dusting the final wedding photo and placing it back onto the mantelpiece, Osila went over to her one last time to tell her that she would be back next Wednesday, but she wasn’t listening. The night Jacob had gone for a drink, she was woken up by the phone ringing. Then came the drive to the hospital, the waiting room, the police officers, the morgue, the funeral directors, the phone calls, the crematorium, the wake, the apologies, the courtroom, the journalists and the empty house. She went home alone but Osila had promised to come on Wednesday. Taking a final look out of the garden window, she locked all the windows, closed all the curtains, pulled Jacob’s armchair over to face the fish tank and sat down. The Doctor that Osila brought over said she had developed agoraphobia from depression, but she hadn’t. She just didn’t need the outside company. She had the goldfish right here.
Osila left, shutting the door behind her. At the noise of the door shutting, she raised her head with a start. The goldfish didn’t flit; it hadn’t even moved. She unfurled herself, stood up and placed her hands on either side of the tank, looking into the top of it. The goldfish was floating upside down, dead. When had it died? She didn’t know. All she knew was that it had been alive and then it wasn’t. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and her breathing quickened.
They were meant to live together forever. Cold water slopped onto her bare arms and feet as she lifted the heavy tank and lurched it against the wall. The glass shattered, the water splattered and the goldfish’s lifeless body, so small and pathetic, fell among the dust and spiders carpeting the floor.
They were meant to be together forever. She knocked the photos off of the mantelpiece with a sweep of her arm, overturned the wooden kitchen table, picked up one of the matching dining chairs and hurled it with all her weakened might across the room where it hit the thick red curtains, smashing something glass on the other side of them and bringing the curtains crashing to the floor.
Strong white light blinded her and she threw her hands up to shield her face. The glittering rays reflecting off shards of the broken window had formed a warm halo around the window pane. She lowered her hands, her chest heaving with exhausted dusty breaths and her petrified brown eyes transfixed on the scene before her. She began to walk towards it, stepping over smashed images of her and
Jacobs wedding day along the way, her feet ignorant of the glass ripping at her soles.
She reached the window. Lavender bushes wafted their scent under her nose. Thick ivy climbed the garden walls and it’s waxy green leaves had begun seeping in through the broken window. Red poppies dotted among bluebells billowing in the breeze while bright dandelions and armies of daisies adorned cracked paving stones only just visible in the overgrown grass, leading to a large apple tree.
She placed a hand on the knob of the garden door and turned. She stepped down onto the paving stones, the wind whipping her baggy cardigan away from her thin frame so the sun could bless each pore of her skin. She stepped carefully through the tangled weave of flowers, her fingers stroking the petals while the stalks tickled her thighs. She stopped in the middle of the garden.
She could see him now, brushing long blonde curls out of bright blue eyes and holding out his hand,
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jacob”
She took his hand, noting the comforting grip and smiled,
“Ejira.”
“Interesting name, does it mean anything?”
“Believe.”
Turning up her head in submission to the heavens, the sun kissed her forehead and Ejira took a lungful of air.
Osila wiped the surface around Jacob’s last meal which was growing new life by the kitchen sink. Osila wouldn’t dare move it. Nor would she open the curtains. After dusting the final wedding photo and placing it back onto the mantelpiece, Osila went over to her one last time to tell her that she would be back next Wednesday and left, shutting the door behind her.
At the noise of the door shutting, the goldfish flitted to the other side of the tank. The sound came at the same time every week but goldfish have no notion of time and little memory so the shock of sound panicked it. That was one of the good things about goldfish, she thought. Without memory they could experience every trauma life could throw at them and have no recollection of it moments later. Then again, without time the goldfish wouldn’t know that it would all be over in 15 seconds. Perhaps to the goldfish it never seemed to go away. After all, her presence no longer fazed the goldfish so it had to remember her somehow.
She bought the goldfish with Jacob when they moved in together. They were the only ones in the pet shop and she could understand why. The paint was flaking off of the walls, the natural light was blocked by the hutches outside and a teenager was smoking at the counter. She pulled her coat tighter around her and grabbed Jacobs hand. He kissed her forehead, told her it was fine and squeezed her hand. They walked down the aisles, their free hands pointing out potential furry candidates. At the end of it was a long dirty aquarium that lined the back of the shop. Jacob bent down to look into it and pressed his finger onto the glass. She bent over to see what he was pointing to and smiled. The goldfish was perfect.
Now there were algae on the tank. She leant over the arm of the chair and picked up a cloth from the floor. Dipping her hand inside the water, she rubbed it away. Dropping the cloth back where it was, she sat back upright with her lugs tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around her thighs and chin resting on her knees. When did it get there? She didn’t know. All she knew was that it wasn’t there and then it was.
She had noticed that the more time she spent with the goldfish, the more this seemed to happen. She tried to remember how much time she had spent with the goldfish but she couldn’t. Osila always said she came on Wednesdays, but when were Wednesdays? The darkness that smothered her and the goldfish meant that day and night and summer and winter and past and present had all rolled into a seamless eternity and with no time to age them, she thought, they would live together forever.
Osila opened the front door armed with two shopping bags and wiped her feet on the faded welcome mat. When Jacob met Osila for the first time, she could remember Jacob going to get them all drinks and Osila leaning over and whispering that she never knew horticulturalists could be so funny. She knew Osila meant white men. Jacob returned with the drinks and told Osila they weren’t unless they’d been smoking their plants. She felt Osila watching them as Jacob then put his arm around her, rubbed his nose against hers and kissed her.
She watched Osila leave the shopping bags on the kitchen table and walk over to her. Osila tilted her head and asked her how she was but she didn’t respond. Jacob had his hands over her eyes and kept telling her not to peek. Giggling and squealing she told him she wasn’t. Jacob asked her if she was ready. He removed his hands and revealed their garden, which he had been working on ever since they moved in. She told him it was beautiful but he had better be ready to keep it this way because she certainly wouldn’t be. Wrapping his arms round her waist and looking into her eyes, Jacob convinced her that he had created it so it wouldn’t need a lot of work. It was his very own Eden, he said, and he was the God. Then he kissed her on the forehead, told her he loved her and left for a drink with friends.
After dusting the final wedding photo and placing it back onto the mantelpiece, Osila went over to her one last time to tell her that she would be back next Wednesday, but she wasn’t listening. The night Jacob had gone for a drink, she was woken up by the phone ringing. Then came the drive to the hospital, the waiting room, the police officers, the morgue, the funeral directors, the phone calls, the crematorium, the wake, the apologies, the courtroom, the journalists and the empty house. She went home alone but Osila had promised to come on Wednesday. Taking a final look out of the garden window, she locked all the windows, closed all the curtains, pulled Jacob’s armchair over to face the fish tank and sat down. The Doctor that Osila brought over said she had developed agoraphobia from depression, but she hadn’t. She just didn’t need the outside company. She had the goldfish right here.
Osila left, shutting the door behind her. At the noise of the door shutting, she raised her head with a start. The goldfish didn’t flit; it hadn’t even moved. She unfurled herself, stood up and placed her hands on either side of the tank, looking into the top of it. The goldfish was floating upside down, dead. When had it died? She didn’t know. All she knew was that it had been alive and then it wasn’t. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and her breathing quickened.
They were meant to live together forever. Cold water slopped onto her bare arms and feet as she lifted the heavy tank and lurched it against the wall. The glass shattered, the water splattered and the goldfish’s lifeless body, so small and pathetic, fell among the dust and spiders carpeting the floor.
They were meant to be together forever. She knocked the photos off of the mantelpiece with a sweep of her arm, overturned the wooden kitchen table, picked up one of the matching dining chairs and hurled it with all her weakened might across the room where it hit the thick red curtains, smashing something glass on the other side of them and bringing the curtains crashing to the floor.
Strong white light blinded her and she threw her hands up to shield her face. The glittering rays reflecting off shards of the broken window had formed a warm halo around the window pane. She lowered her hands, her chest heaving with exhausted dusty breaths and her petrified brown eyes transfixed on the scene before her. She began to walk towards it, stepping over smashed images of her and
Jacobs wedding day along the way, her feet ignorant of the glass ripping at her soles.
She reached the window. Lavender bushes wafted their scent under her nose. Thick ivy climbed the garden walls and it’s waxy green leaves had begun seeping in through the broken window. Red poppies dotted among bluebells billowing in the breeze while bright dandelions and armies of daisies adorned cracked paving stones only just visible in the overgrown grass, leading to a large apple tree.
She placed a hand on the knob of the garden door and turned. She stepped down onto the paving stones, the wind whipping her baggy cardigan away from her thin frame so the sun could bless each pore of her skin. She stepped carefully through the tangled weave of flowers, her fingers stroking the petals while the stalks tickled her thighs. She stopped in the middle of the garden.
She could see him now, brushing long blonde curls out of bright blue eyes and holding out his hand,
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jacob”
She took his hand, noting the comforting grip and smiled,
“Ejira.”
“Interesting name, does it mean anything?”
“Believe.”
Turning up her head in submission to the heavens, the sun kissed her forehead and Ejira took a lungful of air.
Robyn
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