The Hand that Trembles

THIRTY-TWO

The night was long. Sweaty. At half past two he got up and walked over to the window. The sky was clear and starry. Once upon a time, a long time ago, he had loved the silence of the night. Now there was only terror and emptiness in the vaulted heavens, an endless longing.

On the way to the kitchen he tripped on the vacuum cleaner and fell headlong against the doorpost. A pain seared above his temple and in his shoulder as he landed on the floor. The pain was almost pleasurable.

‘I need to vacuum,’ he muttered, and chuckled.

He rolled over onto his back on the cold floor and stared up at the ceiling. He remembered the dream now. The Magpie had come to him. Her breath was bad but her body warm. She spoke with intensity, almost frenzied, in a foreign language. He knew it was the language of women and did not attempt to understand any of her prattling. Instead he studied her features and noticed for the first time that she was beautiful. She lay on him, her body light as a feather. Had they made love?

He fumbled across his body and stuck his hand into his underpants, stiffening immediately.

The chill under his back made him twist his body and roll onto his side. The old rag runner stank of filth. He loosened his cramp-like grip on his genitals and felt about with his hand on the wood floor as if he was trying to find something, then turned his head and stared out the kitchen window. The stars winked at him.

‘I could have been happy,’ he said out loud.

In all honesty he did not understand why his life had taken such a strange turn. He was just a regular guy. Life flashed by so quickly, and he who had existed in the periphery was on the verge of being flung out into space like a powerless package of blood, flesh, and bone. Once he had been in the centre, warmed by people, hearing laughter and voices, but slowly and imperceptibly he had been forced out until one day he found himself alone.

He had been out drinking the night before. Now he had to pay the price; the ache was like a vice on his forehead. Even though suffering was at his side right now he would soon get up, he knew he would. And again. And again.