Читать книгу With My Body - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 23

Upon which he kisses his little wife, and grows mild

Hugh is home just after 10 p.m., just as he said.

‘He won’t notice, he won’t notice,’ you say to yourself, at the kitchen table, a glass of wine before you.

‘Hiya,’ he yells.

He does not come to you, he never does. Now he is throwing down his keys, his wallet, his change. Now he is removing his coat and tie, littering them around the lounge room, balustrades, bedroom; black crows you call them, black crows roosting all over your life.

‘Hiya,’ he calls again, enquiringly.

‘Hi.’

He does not come to you, he does not see you. At the kitchen table, sitting there, cracked. Like you were once, long ago; that he has never witnessed, that he would not understand.

A woman, now, your mind is churning with it, the one thing you never tried.

But everything else …

‘Thank God that pile of clothes has finally disappeared,’ Hugh yells from the bedroom.

You shut your eyes and throw your head back and smile.

Blazing light, blazing life.