The Woman who Went to Bed for a Year

62

Eva was lying flat on the bed, staring up at a crack that meandered across the ceiling like a black river running through a white wilderness.

Eva knew every millimetre of the crack – the backwaters, the moorings. She was at the helm of a boat as it journeyed, seeking peace and pleasure for those on board. Eva could see Brian Junior, motionless, staring into the deep water. Next she saw Brianne, trying to light a cigarette against the wind. Alexander was standing at the wheel with his arm around the shoulder of the helmswoman, and Venus was there, attempting to draw what was undrawable – the speed of the boat, the sound it makes as it pushes through the water. And look at Thomas, trying to wrest the wheel from Eva’s hands.

She didn’t know where they were going. The crack disappeared under the plaster cornice. Eva had to turn the boat and journey against the wind and the flow of the river. Sometimes it was moored against the bank, and the passengers disembarked and trekked in the wilderness, on soft white sand.

But there was nothing for them there.

When they walked back to the boat, Eva gave the wheel to Brianne, saying, ‘Care about something, Brianne. Take us home and keep us safe.’

The clouds rolled across the ceiling, the wind blew in their faces. Brianne held firm and took them home.