One
The day fades out like a bleeding man. All oranges and reds behind the tree line. Last gasps of light.
Last breathe.
Before night.
A dog barks in the distance, but otherwise silence.
I can’t even hear the main road now. Rush hour must be over. The shift change at the prison must be past now.
Not too many have reason to be out this way.
The road only runs past Mackie’s and Mackie’s will be shut by now. The staff home, everything backed up before they open for breakfast in the morning.
You ever tried finding a late-night diner around here?
You’ll be lucky.
It’s never been a thing. I guess this town likes its late-night eating deep fried and dripping rather than eggs over easy or some apple pie.
I’m sitting here, I can see the streetlights flow like a river back into town. The streets will be quiet now. The regulars at graces will be watching the football, moaning about the council or the young ones.
No doubt.
A week ago, that would have been me.
And I’d have been perfectly happy.
But a lot can change in a week.
Hell, a lot can change in a day.
And so
It does
Two
The car door open
The car, in the middle of the street.
Engine running. The door open. Lights flashing.
Sirens
The body. The body. No longer a person, no longer a life.
Just a body.
Not moving. Not breathing.
Ami.
Shopping bags down at her side. Eggs smashed. Milk all over the road.
The people, standing, watching.
The ambulance got here quick, but it seems to me that they are moving in slow motion.
The policemen, holding me back.
‘Mr Douglas, let them work….’
Looking at the paramedic. The shake of the head.
Everything changed.
Three
The abyss. The void.
The day we met, in the warm sunshine, her voice, her laugh, her perfume.
The house. Our house.
A home.
Light, laughter, music.
Her playing guitar like Jimi Hendrix.
The bad movies that made us laugh.
The bench out back that we never got fixed.
I sat out there, yesterday.
I couldn’t sleep in the bed. Couldn’t sleep on the couch.
So, I went outside.
I was there when the sun came up.
Just me, the leaves falling from the trees and the birds trying to start a chorus.
I put my headphones on, couldn’t tell you what it played.
Just silence.
Like ear plugs.
Home isn’t home.
I had to touch the wall, to make sure it was real.
I phoned her mum; she was living in a retirement home on the coast.
She didn’t remember me.
She couldn’t remember much.
Alzheimer’s.
Four
They tell me it’s hit and run.
The police took a statement. The detective was all business.
Looking tired, drawn. I guess this is just one of his cases.
Not much I could say.
They had forms for me to sign. They could get me a liaison. Was there anyone I could talk to?
I asked them who it was.
They didn’t know. There’s CCTV all over this town but it didn’t bring any clues.
No witnesses came forward.
They would keep looking.
They would keep me informed.
They left and I was alone.
In our house.
I walked to the window and watched them go. In the kitchen I boiled the kettle and made a cup of tea.
I sat on the couch.
I sat on the floor.
Heard the old clock ticking. Your picture on the wall.
The silence.
Pushing down on me.
The unbearable silence.
Five
I went to town this morning. My brother is coming down from the city. Stay a few days before the funeral.
All I’ve got is out of date chicken.
I just walked into town.
Shades on in in the weak morning sun.
Hoody up till I got to the shop.
Sympathetic looks, but no-one said much.
No-one said much of anything at all.
What was there to say? I’m sorry.
Not your fault.
I planned to buy something for a stew.
Comfort food
But there’s no comfort food for this.
I just got milk, tea and those biscuits mum used to buy when we were kids.
As I walked home, I hoped it would rain.
Slow
and soft
and steady.
But the sun shone.
Six
I woke up in the middle of the night. Sheets soaked with sweat.
I called.
Ami
Before I realised
Before I remembered
The house just creaked.
I thought about going to the fridge.
having a beer.
But I didn’t trust myself.
So, I sat. on the bench.
I watched the day I had feared, dreaded drift in.
Funeral.
Seven
The whole day was numb.
I welcomed it.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever.
But maybe it could get me through today.
I got the plot like we had chatted when all this seemed like some faraway problem.
Now here it is.
Half the town was there. Your friends from college and work. Your mum came with a carer and your little brother.
They were all so kind to me.
They played your favourite song.
Thunder road
in the church
Out in the graveyard
The earth was open.
We laid your body down.
Eight
The reception passed.
I bought a round of drinks.
Spoke to everyone.
Don’t remember a thing.
What was said?
Who I met.
Sat out the back of the hotel.
Flipping through my phone.
Pictures.
Your messages.
Nine
Everyone started leaving.
There were babysitters to pay.
Work tomorrow.
I didn’t want to go home.
Me and Eddie went to the pub.
I drank.
To you
To us
I said too little.
I said too much.
I didn’t say anything.
I sat.
In silence.
The words.
Escaping me.
Ten
So I’m back here.
The sun bleeding out.
The light escaping.
The silence descending.
One more time.
The TV is on at home.
The lights shine.
But the house is empty.
I look out to the tree line.
And watch a fox dart between the trees
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Paul Andrew Sneddon 