‘You can’t what!?’
Now
you uncurl your legs from under you and lean forward. You smile.
You search my face for any sign of it cracking into a smile. You find none and frown.
I can
see all this. All this is visible to
me. Your
mouth moving framing questions. I listen
to every baffled question you ask and do my best to answer.
But I
know I’m no good at explaining something that has no explanation. I can only say what is.
You
press the mute on the TV. You wonder at
your new husband.
I tell
you that if I look out the window or open our front door the world is there in
all its glory. The parched green fields
beyond the thundering main road traffic.
I know if the both of us stared across at those fields through the early
evening breeze I... We would wonder again about the one lonely shiny pure brown
horse that stands there so still. Have
we ever seen it in full flow cutting up the earth like its scraggly black and
off white neighbours?
Beyond
this equine statue would be the trees like clumps of hair on a rapidly
balding
head. High above us birds would flutter and
hover and dive.
All
this my eyes would blink and take in the change through the seasons; store up
images of summer for the stark winter months.
Confusion
reigns on your tired face and I regret telling you this now. But like a dam cracking unseen the moment arrived
all of a sudden and…I said it, and I say again.
I
can’t see me.
You
stare at me still searching for the joke but…
I tell
you things I have told no-one and you sit so still.
Then,
no, please no, it’s no use. But I don’t
tell you this. You fetch a mirror.
You’re sitting on the arm of the chair beside me now. You hold the mirror in front of us.
‘There
we are.’ You say.
‘There
you are.’ I say.
I can
see you in the mirror I tell you.
But
I’m not there.
I’m
just not there.
Nothing. A blank space next to you.
You
don’t believe me. You still think this
is some April fool joke in the middle of March. I can’t blame you. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it and
never have.
You’re
quiet now. You’re thinking. You’re looking right at me as if seeing me
for the first time.
What
do you see?
What
is my face like?
Is it
a kind face? An angry face?
A sad
face?
Whatever
is there is telling you I’m really and truly not joking.
You
sit on my lap and gently hold my face.
Don’t cry. Please.
‘ You
really have never seen your own face. You
haven’t seen…you.’
They’re
not questions this time but I nod anyway.
‘ O
love.’ You say.
BACK
THEN.
I grew
up standing in front of mirrors, glancing at shop windows, pausing before glass
doors, staring into puddles.
I grew
up asking questions until the day my mother cried and pleaded with me.
‘Stop
it.’
I did
as I was told. I stopped the standing, the
glancing, the pausing, and the staring.
I carried it to the far reaches of my mind and dug the deepest hole and
buried it there.
Then
the day came when I made a mistake. Sixth year at High School. Head down walking to the dining room I saw a
group standing in front of the notice board pointing and giggling at something
pinned up.
I
worked my way to the front and there I wasn’t. My whole year caught forever. All smiling down from the notice board.
I knew
that I should be third from the left on the back row. I knew that I had smiled and said ‘cheese.’
with everyone else.
But I
wasn’t there.
Only a
blank space where I should have been.
A
rumble of something breaking free from the far reaches of my mind rolled and
grew and crashed against the back of my eyes.
I
wasn’t there.
IN
THE HERE AND NOW.
I keep
quiet and let you talk. You fast forward
our wedding DVD to the both of us (or so you tell me) standing on the church
steps all smiles and waves. You flick through
page after page of our wedding album and point and look at me.
‘ That’s
you up dancing.’ You say.
Nothing
I tell you. Only you. Or whoever else is in the photo. Your mum and dad smiling at us. Your sister half way to drunk. My mother and father sitting silently in the
background.
Not
me.
Always
a space where I should be.
A
picture of our honeymoon. The pool, the
hotel a sun kissed tower block.
‘ I’m
not there.’ I say.
BACK
THEN.
Every
day in my silence I studied my mum and dad till I couldn’t anymore and turned
to the photos. I didn’t want to because
I knew I wouldn’t be there.
They
were always taking photos. Of their quiet
perfect one and only. Ten years they
had been trying for a family and then I came along.
Their
life was complete.
I was
in every photo and nowhere to be seen.
And
either side of the empty space where I should have been they stood. Smiling and happy and arms around my
invisible shoulders, or ruffling my invisible head.
Who
was I like? Did I have my father’s roman
nose? Did I have my mother’s permanent
frown? Like a blind person I touched my face and tried to imagine the outline.
Was
I…? Was I…?
IN
THE HERE AND NOW.
The
sudden look of ‘eureka’ on your face and you kiss me and you’re away and
running out of the living room.
What
for I haven’t a clue. Please no more
photographs.
I can
hear you rummaging about upstairs. It goes quiet for a moment and then there is
the thump thump of the floorboards and you’re running down the hall stairs.
Careful
careful.
You’re
in the living room now and dragging your chair in front of mine.
‘
Christmas present.’ You say and open the box of pencils. You already have the sketch pad on your knee.
‘ No.’
I say.
‘
Why?’ You ask.
I
don’t know why and say, but…
‘
I’ll…’ You begin.
‘ Tell
the truth?’ I say.
‘ Yes.’
You say.
You
draw and draw and I feel myself smile at the intense look on your face. I so
want to say ‘can I look?’
But I
don’t.
You
finish with a huge grin and turn the sketch pad towards me.
The
grin slowly vanishes.
‘ You must be. ’
‘ I'm not there.’ I tell you.
BACK
THEN
I was
the youngest and the oldest child all at once.
We went here and we went there, the three of us, the one of me in the
middle looking up from side to side as we walked. Then one day I didn’t need to look up any
more and I could look directly into their eyes. I
searched for me reflected in their eyes.
Nothing.
IN
THE HERE AND NOW
It is
the time of fears and dark thoughts.
Outside the word is still. I lie
and stare at the shadows on the walls. I
know you’re not sleeping. Your hand
reaches for mine and we turn into each other.
We
fall asleep face to face. You cry in
your sleep.
The
hallway is shivery and I can feel your eyes on me as I go downstairs. The blank drawing sits on top of your chair
where you left it. The pencils lie
scattered along the open box.
Hands
circle my waist. You kiss my neck.
‘It’s
okay.’ You say.
I pick
up the pen and paper.
‘Maybe
if you try again.’ I say.
‘No.’
You say as the morning sun arrives and you take my face in your hands.
You stare
into my eyes.
I have
never seen you look more serious.
‘What
do you see?’ You say.
Nothing,
I tell you.
You
come closer until your face blurs only your eyes are clear and insistent.
‘Look.’ You say.
‘ Don’t be afraid. Look.’
Your
eyes like green emeralds fragment the light. I try to pull away but you hold
firm.
‘Look.’
You say again.
My
eyes nip with the effort to keep them open and focussed.
‘I…No
use.’
‘Please.’ You say.
‘Look.’
Your
eyes shudder with the strain and I…and…and…a shape swims through the green
depths towards me. It grows and…You
blink and it falls away.
‘Did
you see?’ You ask.
The
strain slowly relaxes into a throb behind my eyes.
‘Something.’
I say. ‘ But…’
‘But
something.’ You say.
My eyes
settle into a quiet murmur.
‘ But
something.’ I say.
We touch lips.
‘We’re
in no hurry.’ You say.
You
kiss the tip of my nose.
‘We’re
in no hurry.’ I say.
You brush
your lips against my ears.
You kiss my eyes.
