I picked up the glass near the window and wiped my lipstick off. The phone rang and rang and if you closed your eyes you could have felt it screeching across your temples and the edges of your teeth. So I kept mine wide open and ran to the kitchen. I put a drop of Fairy soap in the glass and washed it and it didn’t foam up as much as the commercial said it would. I stared at the glass for the longest time.
My husband woke up and said “The baby’s crying, the baby’s crying!”
And I shook my head and said “The phone’s only ringing, the phone’s only ringing”.
I thought I heard him weep in the room and I felt a little bad so I went to the nursery and my baby wasn’t in the cot and something told me my baby was dead so I told my husband and heard my own voice swimming all over our house saying (singing? screeching?) “Our baby’s dead! It’s dead! Its dead!” and I skipped around a little doing a funeral ritual dance that I assumed some indigenous people must do. In the Pacific Islands perhaps. Where when a person dies you don’t feel lonely because when its night a million brilliant stars are needling their shine into your pupils like its madness and you can’t help but feel like they’re the best kind of company.
My husband probably did not know of indigenous people because he was staring at me with such pain that I could see his heart in his hands and blood all over his shirt. I started to cry because I loved him and his heart and his shirt because all his clothing had a nice leafy smell. I walked over but he didn’t move. I hugged him and hugged him but he continued to stand there and silence cut through horribly like a drill trying to make holes in someone’s bones.
And just when I wanted to cry I felt his fingers in my hair and when he kissed me I could feel him smiling and he said “Wait here” and I did. I waited and watched out our window and I noticed it was snowing and the sunlight was catching and caressing the frost and made some bits melt faster than the others. I breathed on the glass and it fogged up and I stood back because I didn’t know what to draw on the fog.
I heard sounds so I turned and saw a pretty little child in those little animal suits that some people thought of as rather daft but I quite liked them and thought they were quite comfy since it was a jumpsuit with animal ears and all. And the pretty little child was fast asleep and a kind faced looking, vaguely familiar man was holding it with such love that I could have cried.
I was lost for a while as I watched them sway and it was almost as if the sunny snow from outside was falling inside the apartment and then I saw it actually was and a fleck of frost landed on the baby’s lashes and it blinked and woke up, but the man started singing to it very softly and I was softly singing to it too and the man said “There is dinner when you are ready” and I nodded and looked out at the snow and drew a smiley face on the fog. I felt like telling myself that I was okay. Then I picked up the glass near the window and wiped my lipstick off.