Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Stephen had become so familiar with the lack of predictability of the hour at which his wife returned home each day that the uncertain anticipation had almost become a part of his routine. He would commence checking his watch at around 17.30, though she rarely arrived home by this time. He had specific tasks that he would busy himself with at ten minute intervals before collaborating with his timepiece once more. If the clock was not on a multiple of ten he would have to check it three times within every minute until it got back to that more reassuring rounded number.

After vacuuming the living room for the third time that evening, Stephen raised his watch and was relieved to see it reveal 18.50. 18.50. 18. 50 as his tapping foot comforted him and rejoiced at his ability to accurately estimate the passing of time. It was a pleasant feeling, quite in contrast to the one that came when he failed at his self-made task. That was when panic would set in. Luckily that evening he had thus far been spared such panic.

As ever, Stephen was on high alert to the sounds and movements around him and so drew his watch to his eyes quickly to bear witness of the time at the exact moment that he heard the sound of Maya’s car reluctantly pull into the drive. 18.56. 18.56. 18.56. His foot tapped hard. He had not failed, he tried to reassure himself, he was just acknowledging the time of his wife’s return. He felt an unease at the number. At least it was an even number, he offered his mind as a compromise.

Although Maya had forgotten about the holiday until that day, Stephen had had the holiday on his mind for some time. He had already informed his mother that her plan for Maya to collect Jessica would have to be put on hold until their return. He remained hopeful that Maya would perhaps soften at the prospect of the holiday. Hopeful might not have captured his sentiment correctly. The feeling was perhaps more resolute. A naive resolution.

He had been so resolute that on his way home that evening, he had decided that he would purchase Maya a guidebook for their impending trip. They were set to go through the Alps by train before spending a few days in Venice. Making the decision about which guidebook to purchase had pained Stephen. He was certain that if he made the wrong decision it would doom the holiday. That the wrong choice meant that something very bad would happen.

Of course, Stephen had never really noticed that Maya rarely read books of fact. Unless they were work related. And then she would always question the ‘facts’ of them. ‘What is truth?! Just because someone decided to study it or done a ‘test’ of it, is it more real than the thing no one has heard of or bothered to test?!’ she would remark more to herself than to her husband about some new apparent psychological break-through. Stephen was a black and white kind of person. Things were wrong or right. If a building was before him, he did not question whether it was really a building. He tended to switch off when Maya became all philosophical because trying to argue his point was always futile and ended with an argument which neither could win.

Maya much preferred an escape of fancy when it came to reading. She learned about history and places from novels set in gone by eras and in places she had never visited. She felt no reason to think these versions were any less real than those offered by the so called factual books of history and places. Perhaps that is where she learned about people too. There often seemed something more real about the characters in a book than the ones that presented themselves before her in real life. Maybe that was because in a book you got to see the characters’ inside selves too. In the real world, so much of the inside always seemed to remain hidden from view.

Eager to find out whether he had made the correct book choice, Stephen perched himself on the third step of the stairway which stood opposite the front door. His position had been selected so that Maya would not be able to escape to the guest room without seeing him.

Maya was not expecting to be confronted by her husband. She had had a complicated day and needed to return to her safe place so that she could rest awhile.

Stephen was not going to grant her that desire just yet. He noticed she looked pale and clammy. Her shoes were damp, as was the hem of her dress. He wondered what had happened. He worried about the traces of dirt she may bring into the hall. He pushed down these thoughts as he checked his clock three times and knocked his knee against the bannister.  19.00. 19.00. 19.00. He took the neatness of the time as a good omen and knew that now was not the time to hesitate or become distracted by dirty shoes and pale skin.

‘Maya, I have been thinking about our trip away’ he paused to examine her reaction.

Her face went from pale to grey as she wondered if he could read her thoughts. He had seemed blind to her thoughts for the majority of their marriage. What had granted him this sudden insight? Or maybe he had spoken to her mum? Maya began to panic. Maybe she had told him? Swallowing her alarm, she waited for Stephen to fill the silence of her blank gaze.

‘Well it is soon. And I think we should see it as a chance to get things back to normal’ he paused and presented the guidebook to his wife. He let go too quickly as her hand reached out towards the gift. She had not closed her fingers around the book; ‘A Complete Guide to Venice’. The book fell to the floor with a thud and the olive branch that bore it snapped.

Stephen knew instantly he had chosen the wrong book. He felt the heat rise in him as he was reminded again of what a failure he was. Maya did not notice him checking his watch and tapping his foot.

19.19

19.19

19.19

The words fell quietly from Maya’s mouth ‘I can’t go with you Stephen. Not now. Maybe not ever. I asked my mum to come with me.’

19.20

19.20

19.20

The neatness of the time could not comfort either of them now. The broken man picked the book from the floor and ripped it up in front of his wife’s weary face.

‘Maya, you selfish bitch! I have tried everything! Put up with you and your mood swings. Bought you a holiday on MY birthday to a place I did not even want to go. And this is how you thank me?! You ask your fucking mum!? Who you don’t even speak to! The mother who never understood poor little Maya and her grief!’ he was taunting her now. ‘Well maybe that was because no one can understand you Maya! There’s something wrong with you! Look at yourself?!’ he grabbed his wife and pulled her to the mirror in the hall. No tears fell today. She saw the face of a doll in the mirror. Behind her was a puppeteer angrily jerking at the strings but the puppet refused to move.

She closed her eyes.

There was a crash and a slamming door.

Maya opened her eyes to see the mirror shattered around her. There were specks of red where shards of glass had torn the surface of her still damp legs.

Stephen had gone.

Maya picked up one of the larger pieces of mirror and glanced again at her reflection. Upon the shiny glass, she saw a black shadowy figure perched behind her upon the doormat.

She heard a deep rasping call and turned to see a raven crying her omen at the foot of the closed door.

Its voice became shrill as it echoed around the hall in a voice that Maya felt she knew.

‘Not now.’

‘Not ever.’

‘Not now.’

‘Not ever.’

‘Not now.’

‘Not ever.’

Maya closed her eyes as tight as she could, convinced the difficult day and lack of food had taken their toll.

When she permitted her eyes to open once more, the vision had fled but the light continued to bounce the sound endlessly around the white hall.

‘Not now.’

‘Not ever.’

Maya heard a deep wailing sound which seemed to come from inside of her.

She saw the reflection of a girl hunched over the shards of a broken mirror. A girl sobbing.