My heart pulses in my chest, as though trying to break free of my body. The chime of ‘Brrring Brrring’ fills my ears and I make my way toward the hallway to collect the call.
It’s as though someone punches me in the stomach, the front door is wide open. I make out the garden with its rose bushes and assortment of brambles and above that an obsidian darkness that blinks back at me with the same numbness as a lens from one of the many satellites lost in space.
‘Brrring Brrring’ I wait and hope whoever it is hangs up so I can avoid confrontation.
‘Brrring Brrring…Brrring Brrring’
My knees express their displeasure at having to move in the form of several pops. I slam the door against its frame and triple check the locks, ensuring the chain is attached.
The phone continues its incessant tirade, part of me longs to smash the handpiece and stamp on its tiny electronic parts until silence is eventually achieved. Using the wall to support my back I slide towards the wretched phone.
“Hello” I stutter down the receiver. The line sputters, the rustle of a breeze the only audible element.
“Who’s there?” My ears strain to hear but I make out a child’s wail, only the noise is relentless and lacks the required space for a person to breathe. The cry is distant at first but as each second passes, grows closer and louder until the author of the noise can no longer logically resinate from an infant but to some kind of repulsive alarm loop. The scream changes pitch, shrill and caustic it pierces my eardrums. The device smacks back against the cradle as I hang up.
Count to three and take a deep breath. My chest burns as oxygen rushes to replenish the demand on my lungs, the small suburban world of my flat spins 360 degrees and spews me into the bathroom.
With both hands I prop myself against the washbasin and study my reflection in the mirror. Wrinkles stretch across my complexion as though superhighways, my hairline once fecund now barren; despite my physical decline I smile back at the image, proud.
“It’ll take a lot more than that to knock this old codger into a coffin”, I chuckle at the mirror.
The tap releases a stream of water as I twist the knob. I cup my hands together and splash the liquid over my face, letting it cool my forehead. Without water we’d cease to exist. The earth as we currently know it would be nothing but a lifeless slab of space rock and yet, we assume it will continue to provide; what a selfish species we are, I think to myself as the droplets swan dive from the apex of my bald head.
I respire, slow and easy as I douse myself once again with water, careful to keep my eyes closed. The TV, from the kitchen/diner muffles the words “We are doing everything we can to provide PPE to those on the frontline at this time of crisis,” I reach for the towel and dab myself down.
I count to three. The world rushes back into view as I hang the towel back upon the hook. Water spits from the tap as I turn the knob. Something brushes against my skin, lubricious in nature.
—
Written By Sebastian King on 13.04.20
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Idol Hands 