Nightwatch
(This is a piece of fiction)
The dog is awake. Even though I sneak in as quietly as I can, taking off my boots, she raises her head and wags her stump of a tail. I pay her no attention, even though she is the only one who seems to notice I haven’t been home all night.
In these last months, I’ve been fading away. Not to anyone else, I’m careful like that. I still laugh and joke and make enough noise so no one notices. But I’m fraying at the edges, I look in the mirror and I’m starting to feel a bit hazy. It doesn’t frighten me. I think it’ll be kinda cool, one day soon they’ll find a pile of my clothes in a puddle but I’ll be gone. Like Yoda. I don’t eat much these days. It’s not that the food doesn’t look good, I’m just not hungry. No wonder I’m disappearing.
Here’s the thing though. I know it’s coming, inevitable, unavoidable. I’m in no rush, im fact it strikes me that I haven’t done half the things I swore I would. Can you call it a bucket list if it’s pre-meditated? Tonight, I went searching for that lane where they hang out. I pedalled along the main road slowly, and there in one of the quieter avenues, I saw a couple. I almost lost my nerve then. Bravado yelled: fuck it, if not now, then when? I leant the bike along the corner tree and walked down the avenue. Shit, I was scared. Most of them ignored me, I tried not to look, or to stare or gawp but god, it was so exciting. One of them looked up at me as I walked past, he was kneeling in front of the other guy. He winked and I think I blushed. I thought about how good it must feel, anonymous, abandoned, fabulous. Then this guy walked right up to my face and reached for my crotch. I smelt his breath, it was disgusting, like old milk and dirty socks, and I almost puked all over him. Yeah, no guts, no glory, all the fucking time. I ran. I heard him laugh and call out something crude in Tamil. Still, maybe another night, I’ll steel myself and try again.
It better be soon though. I tried shooting up two weeks back. I stole her ring and exchanged it for a vial of some stuff and a needle at the corner tea kadai. That fell through too. I was alone on the beach and just imagining the needle entering the wrong vein made me want to pass out. Drugs, sex and rock n roll. Been there, didn’t do that. What a joke I am. What else is on the list? I’d have like to go dancing one last time. Really burn up the dance floor. But the wedding is taking up everyone’s time and energy. It’ll be nice to have a sister-in-law. She’s a good influence on him at least – he leaves me alone these days, even forgets not to smile at me. A sister-in-law…except she’ll be late to the party. Get the joke? I’m cracking up….
I wrote letters yesterday. One to my dear friend S, not exactly a farewell but just enough hints so it doesn’t come as too much of a shock. A longer one to the folks, though by then I’d popped a few happy pills (they didn’t burn all the booze, as that Dire Straits song goes) and can’t be 100% sure what I wrote. Still, it had to be written. Guess it was explanations and apology and accusations. The last one was to A. I wrote it and burnt it, like all the others I’ve written to him and destroyed. No need to guilt him out now. I love you, A. That’s all I had to say. Finally, I made a whole bunch of little name tags which I’ll attach to all my things – my records and jewellery, the knick knacks and clothes, the poetry books. No one I love is left out. I forgot to leave something for the kid though. She brought me a glass of lime juice yesterday when I came home early from college. My stomach was cramping and I asked nicely. And surprise, surprise, she did. Never met my eyes though. She doesn’t do that anymore. Maybe I’m becoming invisible to her? She’s almost young enough to see fairies still, so why not an invisible fairy? Whoa, I’m on a wisecracking roll here. She hasn’t missed her new skipping rope yet. It’s perfect – thick nylon, a bright green, sturdy.
The house is quiet. I can hear my own breath. I don’t let myself think too much of what it will feel like – losing breath. But this fading away is of the mind too. There is no panic anymore. Nor regrets or hurting for the people asleep down the corridor. I know what to do to make it easy. I tell myself the pain will be fleeting, the pills will take care of that. Then I’ll just float away somewhere safe.
It’s been a good life. Except the bits when it wasn’t. And those bits are crowding in on me. I used to wish desperately for someone, anyone, to talk to about this despair, this gnawing hurt, the pain. Now I know I couldn’t have found the words. Maybe I would have simply screamed. Does anyone understand a scream? But deep down I know that I could have screamed for the longest time and no one would have heard, much less understood.
The dog watches me, nose on paws. I look at her for a moment, this little living, breathing being I feel mild affection for, then shut the bedroom door. I hear her whine.