Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (23) - Flipbook - Page 21
for dinner? Lentils, tin of tomatoes, onion, garlic, spinach, carrots, baked beans,
mushrooms, potatoes, cheese on top, bubbling under the grill. Slice the lentils and
grate the spinach, arrange in layers under a soft pillow of mashed cotton wool. I am
drifting when my body jolts, like an electrical current running through it. A noise. I’m
sure I heard a noise. The birds trill loudly outside the window and a pallid grey light has
replaced the orange glow of the night.
05:02am: Pretend it’s the night and you can’t hear the birds waking and proclaiming the
day. Pretend no one is awake anywhere, getting up and showering, straightening their
ties for breakfast meetings, making packed lunches, filtering coffee. Pretend no one is
at the mail office sorting mail, or changing shifts at the 7-11 on the corner. Pretend it is
the darkest depths of the night and all that stretches ahead is deep, dreamy sleep.
A snort from the basket. Another snort and a loud fart followed by a whimper. My
body jangles at every small noise and movement. I close my eyes and he begins to cry,
gently at first like a whimper, then, getting into the swing of it, great lusty screams
emanate from his lungs. I am asleep. Finally asleep.
‘Christ! Can’t you hear him?’
‘Mmmm, yes. I’m asleep.’
‘Well, I was asleep too until the screaming started.’
He sits up in bed after six solid hours of sleep, shouting over the top of the baby’s
screaming.
‘Aren’t you going to feed him or pick him up?’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Karen. Maybe it’s because I haven’t got any tits! I’m going to
sleep somewhere else. It’s impossible in here.’
He stalks out, grabbing his pillow and slams the bedroom door, sending a blast of stale
air toward the bed. The screaming from the basket intensifies. I lean down, pick him up
and hold him close.
‘It’s ok sweetie. It’s ok, Mummy’s here. I’m sorry, I love you.’ I whisper into his tiny
perfect ear and his body begins to slacken. His head rests against my shoulder and I
can feel his sweet milky breath on my neck. I lay him down on the bed in between my
bare outstretched legs and reach for the nappies, wipes and towel. He lays on the towel
looking up at me with his dark, violet eyes. The midwife says they will change colour,
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