Читать книгу Feebleminded - Ariana Harwicz - Страница 15

I find a note pinned to the door. ‘Don’t go to bed too late. Tomorrow we’re going sailing.’ The house is filled with snoring and it’s only the two of us. I’m a spectre. I walk with my stomach scrunched up, with the devil in my guts. He falls to my feet. I move through the rooms. There’s nothing, I wouldn’t even say there’s pain. Just these cold hard tiles underneath me. If putting your head in the tiger’s mouth is no use, then what are days even for. I go round the house looking for something but I don’t know what. I pace from room to room, catch a glimpse of mum shapeless in the shower, washing, marking herself up. Too late to have lived, too early to do herself in. I get into her bed without waking her. I climb on top of her and hug her to me. I’m thinning out, becoming just an idea. The idea of love for a man who lives with another, who loves another, hundreds of miles away.