Page 141 of (Not) The One
40
James
It’sthe strangest of sensations. I’m here and yet I’m not.
Time is meaningless, days unmarked. And I’m just floating on air. At first, I put the sensation down to being dead. There was nothing beyond and awareness that there were thoughts in my head. I was comfortably numb, I suppose.
But then I heard her voice. And I realised I hadn’t gone anywhere.
I wasn’t here. And I wasn’t there. But some place in between.
But I’m still floating. Floating on air.
She calms me. Her voice. Her presence. Her love.
But there’s something missing.
And I can’t put my finger out
I think I’d cry if I could.
‘I’m just going to take your blood pressure, love.’
A kindly voice. And familiar. One of my favourites, if she’s not in the room.
Pressure on my arm expanding. The beeb of a machine.
But I’m still floating.
And waiting for her.
And missing something I can’t quantify.
‘Morning, lovely man.’
The press of her lips against my cheeks.
The mechanical susurration of the blinds opening. Light, my head filled with white.
I remember when she called me GO. D withheld.
I remember the craving of her and the feel of her underneath me.
A don’t remember many other things. But I feel the now. When there’s no one else around, I feel her tears against my skin. Her quiet sobs echoing through me. Sadness. So much sadness. And I can’t even wrap her in my arms.
‘Your dad’s coming in soon. He’s bringing a new book. I don’t know how you posh boys survived school with all that dreary Greek stuff.’
She starts to hum. She once accused me of being unable to carry a tune in a bucket. I wonder if she’s heard herself lately?
Nails on a chalkboard.
But I love her.
Even though she farts when she thinks no one can hear her.
Floating. Still floating.
Still missing something.
