Tag: breath

Ray’s Call

Ray found his finger twirling the telephone wire, while he listened.
‘Did you hear me, Ray? It could be different this time.’

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It was halfway through the lockdown, all alone in his apartment in the south side of the city, on day 14, when Ray decided as soon as things returned to normal, he would go back. When he said as much on the phone to Lenore, she’d asked him when things had ever been ‘normal’ between them.
He didn’t reply, but he imagined she was holding her hand in front of her, palm facing inwards, so she could see the scars on the inside of her arm. Thin strips of damaged skin making three red circles in a line. Like bullet holes. The recollection made him uncomfortable and his call seemed like a stupid idea. He left it at that and didn’t say anything about it for the rest of the conversation.
Then less than a week before the government announced that the lockdown was over, she called back to ask him, ‘When you last said about moving back here, were you serious?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. He’d been serious about it. But he’d been having doubts since then.
‘You changed your mind?’
‘You know how something seems like a good idea at the time?’ He hesitated just a bit before saying, ‘If this is gonna work, it’s gonna depend on you.’
‘On me? And not on you, Ray?’
He didn’t utter the first thing that came to mind. Maybe he could have put it differently. Did she realize that for things to be different, it would take more on her part, without him having to put it any plainer? She was silent. He waited. He was trying to recall if it had been her right or left hand with the cigarette burns.
‘Ray?’
‘Yeah?’
‘He’s gone. For good.’
Ray found his finger twirling the telephone wire, while he listened.
‘Did you hear me, Ray?’
‘I heard.’
‘It could be different this time. And you’re right. It would be really up to me.’
Ray got his finger out and looked at the orange telephone. Of all the colors.
‘Lenore-‘
‘Ray, he’s gone. I haven’t seen him in months. No calls, nothing.’
‘Are you healthy?’
He heard her take a deep breath, then her voiced changed,
‘I am keeping well.’
He knew her. He could tell when she was sincere. He also knew when she lied. Maybe she understood him too. That whenever he fell silent in the middle of a conversation, it was because something had made him uncomfortable.
‘Ray?’
‘Yeah Lenore?’
‘I’m fine. Did you hear me? Haven’t been ill or to hospital in a while. I’ve been teaching at a kinder-garden three days a week. Mondays through Wednesdays. When the lockdown’s over, I’m going back to work there.’
‘How long you been there?’
Silence.
‘Just a few weeks so far. But it’s a nice change. The kids are lovely.’
He nodded as if she could see his approval, though she was on the other side of town.  Kids. Yeah, lovely. His finger began twisting the circle of wires again.
‘We can meet for tea, one of these afternoons when you are off, when things are back to normal. You still at the dispensary?’
‘Yes I am. Just completed twelve years, can you beat that?’
‘Wow!’
‘Tea sounds good.’
‘One of these days, Ray. Once the lockdown is over.’
He put the phone down.
photo from Unsplash.com by Annie Spratt

Euphoria

I was listening for something else amid the din in my head. It was like waiting to hear a whistle in the middle of a raging storm.

The thumping of the bass guitar matched my heartbeat. It was a Foo Fighters song. Dave Grohl was raging into the microphone. The voice was the only thing keeping me from throwing my sanity away, which felt like pieces of crumpled paper held in unsteady hands.

Breaking into full runs, then creeping along hedges, I felt unstoppable. The shops were shut, neon lights were like glass eyes watching me. I don’t remember the streets of the town being as quiet and deserted. Then again, don’t think I’ve ever been out this late other than on New Year’s Eve. Something told me the cold was going to last a long time. My breath was fogging up in front of me. I crept. I took off again, breathing hard. I ran without thinking about stopping.

I was listening for something else amid the din in my head. It was like waiting to hear a whistle in the middle of a raging storm. I passed the familiar butcher’s, the flower shop, Matt’s pub, the halal meat shop – lights out in all of them. It was deep into Saturday night and all the familiar people would be safely home in bed, dreaming of Sunday stretching out forever.

Was that a car coming? I straightened up, pushing my entire frame against the shadow of a brick wall. A pair of lights came swimming in the mist, appeared to slow down, then sped off, heading out of the village.

I came out of the dark once the tail lights disappeared. I wanted to walk in the middle of the street, on the cobbled stones, feeling a kind of abandon that was new to me. My pores felt alive and open to the chill air. I wanted to shout and I did. I let out a howl. I don’t know why but something in me wanted to be uncharacteristically reckless. I was rubbing my arms, especially my inner arm, and kept walking. Then the urge overtook me again and I began running on the road. There was music playing inside me but it was not limited to my head. All my nerves and blood vessels seemed to be alive and threatening to fizz out of control. I was running to keep up with my heartbeat. And the music.

Then I began to slow down. My feet came to a reluctant stop. I stopped because I could see headlamps lighting up the wall of trees on the kerb ahead of me, with my jagged shadow in the centre, where the road through the village swerved gently before heading out to the highway.

I turned, realising that they had driven up behind me. They were in the car, behind blinding headlamps. I struggled to look, my eyes nearly shut. There I was standing before the warm heat of the headlights, sweating, euphoria still running in my veins, in the glorious throes of a rock-n-roll number, on a high I’d never experienced. My hands were by my side, my palms were open. The arm still felt itchy. I continued breathing hard but the music had ended. The euphoria will be the next to dissipate. They had found me and things might become unpleasant.

Photo by Eberhard Grossgasteiger in unsplash.com