Beginnings

In the beginning, there was me – and there was her. In the beginning, we were two.

Then, in the new beginning, there was me. Life was simple then. I didn't need to worry about where I would sleep, or what I would eat. A few days without meals, was something I was used to. Cold floors, and nursing wounds were the routine. There were no beds where I stayed.

That was then. Now, there was her. There was him as well. He was unimportant. He was the problem. I looked up and saw him slouch - his slothful belly and mournful mouth sinking incessantly into the mouldy, stained couch. He was sipping on a dark bottle of dark beer – something cheap no doubt, and was gazing spellbound at the TV

“What you looking at?” You would think that he came straight out of the States if you heard him speak with his nasal accent.

I reverted my gaze hastily. This was not the time to test the waters. I had to think about her. I had to sit this out for another hour. One hour and he would be snoring and nothing would wake him up.

It never failed to impress me. How I would blare music, silently sneak out of the door for a breath of fresh air and escape. And there he would be grinning, as he looked out the window, daring me to leave.

I did,once. Leave. A few days back, and now there was me. She had gone, but there was another. There was me – and there was her. Only.

I wish I hadn't picked up the phone that day. But they called to say there had been an accident. I was almost delirious with joy. I couldn't believe my luck.

“Is he dead?” My voice was barely a whisper as I tried to repress the quivering happiness that was gripping me.

Two hours later, there was a rotund, over-bribed, rough-tongued policeman walking me to see her lifeless, bony, beaten up body.

“The baby is fine.” I stared at the lady who was attempting to be nice to me.

“Is he dead too?”

“She must be in shock”, “poor thing”,

“ Is he dead too?” I knew I shouldn't have shouted. Everyone was ogling at me. And then, there was the pat on my shoulder. I was forced to turn. I endured the hug.

“I'm sorry baby!”

I knew better than to respond.

“She was drinking again, and I couldn't stop her from taking the car!”

He had killed her. I knew it. I could smell it on him.

I see it in his eyes, even now. This creature that I had to get away from. There was a cry from the room above. I ran up and put my hand over her mouth, forcefully. She quietened at once. She didn't cry often. She already knew that noise was bad. She looked at me now, and I laughed with her, quietly.

Before, there was only me. Now we are two.

I waited for the comforting sound of that first snore. I picked her up and walked down to the empty kitchen. There was no food. There wouldn't be. I didn't care. I wanted water. I drank and I drank. I gave her some too. She needed milk. I gave her water.

I walked back up. I decided to let the light in and opened all the curtains. The sunshine was glaring. 

When she died, I was almost happy. For her. I think of her now. She must have felt the same way I did. At the beginning there was only her – and then there was me. That's why she left me something.

The snoring had stopped. I walked down again, with her. He lay there, still sleeping. No more noise escaped him. The cheap bottle was replete on his breathless paunch.

I smiled.

In the beginning, there was only the two of us.