Drain

I looked online for what might be a new meal I could cook. I never took cooking that seriously, but today I had an urge to try something unique. I found something called ‘Marry Me Chicken’. It mostly needed garlic powder, parmesan, and dried tomatoes. I liked it especially since on the list of ‘Romantic Foods’ it was the only dish that didn’t require an oven, which our apartment didn’t have

I had cooked and served it about a half-hour before. I wasn’t in the mood to eat it once I finished. I tried eating a bit just because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I only had two bites and just wrapped it in tinfoil. I stayed in the kitchen while David ate in the loungeroom.

Every few minutes I would peek around the corner to see if at least he was enthusiastic about it. He was sitting on the lounge watching the TV. He definitely had a few bites, but I never saw him do so. The more I peeked around the corner, the more anxious I got that he didn’t like it. I began rubbing my hands. My psychiatrist told me recently I did that when I was really nervous. He told me to pay attention to my body when I felt agitated. I wanted to go and ask David how he felt about the chicken, but I was afraid that I would annoy him. I looked at the time on the microwave, 19:45. I decided to wait five minutes before going out and taking away the plate.

The minutes waiting was terrible. I kept rubbing my hands even though I wanted to stop. Markus, my psychiatrist, told me it would only “exacerbate” my anxiety. That was a nice word I learned from him. Sophisticated sounding. I could’ve left the kitchen to do something, but I was worried that David would see me. I really didn’t like it when he looked at me.

The five minutes passed and I strolled over to the table. I looked down at the untouched food on his plate. With the lights turned off and the television’s illumination, it made the whole dish look sickly. It looked like the carcass of melted animal. I picked up the plate-David never moving his eyes away from the television-and brought it into the kitchen. I first moved to wrap the chicken in tinfoil for tomorrow, but then considered that I would never eat it and neither would David. I threw it in garbage.

I rinsed the plate under the sink and left it there. I started packing away all the cooking items I had when a moan came from the sink. I wasn’t sure at first where it came from. It had a deep, metallic sound to it. The deepness made it seem like it came from a well. I went over to the sink and turned the tap off. The sound still emitted from drain at the bottom. I thought first that I should ignore it. But then I worried that maybe it meant something was wrong with the sink. If there was an issue, it could only exacerbate if no one looked at it.

Hesitantly, I walked around the corner of the kitchen and stood in front of David. He still faced the TV without noticing me. I whispered to him to turn around but he was still absorbed. I stood there a few moments when he finally broke off from the screen. He wiped his face and grimaced at a thought he had when he noticed me standing there.

‘There’s something wrong with the sink. Can you look at it, please?’

David sighed and walked past me to the kitchen. When I shuffled behind him, he turned back around to me and waved his hand questioningly. I noticed that the sound from the drain had stopped. ‘It was moaning before. When the tap was running. It was making a really weird sound. Here’

I turned the tap on and waited a moment. The moan resounded again, just as deep and loud as I heard it before. I stepped back and gauged his reaction. David bent over the sink and tilted his ear to listen. Moving the tap to the side, he lowered his head deeper. I could see on his face that he was becoming more frustrated. He asked me what the moan sounded like.

‘It’s making the noise now. Can’t you hear it?’

David made an irritated look and stood straightened up. He turned the tap off and said he was going to bed. As he passed, I looked at his eyes as it glazed over me. I could see it in his expression: he hated me. He is repulsed by me. He has hated me for some time and is thinking of leaving me. He wanted to leave earlier but is staying because it was more polite, or honourable, or something. He thought he couldn’t leave straight away and so he is just waiting.

I thought I should clean up the kitchen a bit more and shower before I went to bed. But I was too tired. I could barely find the will to even leave the kitchen. I turned off the lights and followed David behind him. He walked past the lounge room and into the hallway. I watched him walk to very end to the door of his bedroom. As I stood next to my door, I watched him walk into it and shut the door behind him. I could hear his body collapse on the bed.

I opened the door to my room. I had left the light on earlier and so I was able to see everything. Straight across from me was a bookshelf. All the books were at the bottom three levels. The top shelves were devoted to various toys put on display. Next to the bookshelf was a toybox shaped to imitate a giant frog, it’s mouth entrapping various other toys. Next to that was a little desk and stool. I remember when I tried to sit on it once and laughed as I fell over. Beside me and up against the wall was a little bed shaped like a boat. Well, at least, it was meant to be a boat, but whoever painted used a random assortment of colours and their own handprints to make a motley image of it.

I couldn’t bother dressing into my pyjamas. I turned off the light and laid in bed. It was too small for me to stretch out my legs so I had to hunch my knees up to my waist and sleep sideways. There were pills next to me that I gulped quickly to help me sleep. I laid my head on one pillow and with the other I hugged gently against my breast. As I slowly drifted to sleep, I was facing the desk the entire time. For an hour I stared at that desk and the little stool in front of it.

I woke up intermittently throughout the night and day, every hour or two. I only got out of bed at 7:15, when I knew that David had already gone out to work. I had enough energy now to shower and dress properly. The warmth of the water helped me feel a little better, less hazy. While I stood under the showerhead, thoughts about everything I could do today whizzed past me. I could go shopping, I could visit my mother, I might even call some friends. Angelica, maybe.

I felt so good under the shower I didn’t even wash. I just let the warm water fall on me until it started getting cooler, forcing me out. I dried and put on the clothes I set out for myself, the ones I planned to wear outside. I still felt bubbly when I dressed and stopped when I opened the door. The bathroom was facing my bedroom across the hall. When I saw the red-blocked letters spelling out the name ‘ZACK’, my bubbliness faded a little.

I went into the kitchen and made some coffee. As it brewed, I noticed that the kitchen was still a mess. I planned on cleaning it after I had some of my coffee. After I finished half of my cup, I made no move to the kitchen beside me. I sipped a few more after some minutes had passed. I continued to sit there until all of the coffee had been drunk. When the second cup was made, I sat back down at the same spot and continued to sip. I had no energy to get back up. I didn’t even have the energy to even think about what I wanted to do. I just sat in that chair and stared blankly at the wall. I wasn’t sure what I thought about all day, but I was completely absorbed.

Sometime after midday I broke out of this and randomly looked up at the wall beside me. As happens when you focused on something for so long, and then suddenly you break off from it that whatever you glance on next seems to jump at you with a lot of ‘new-ness’ about it, I looked to my right and noticed the bookshelf.

David had made the bookshelf for me years ago. He asked me what I wanted it took look like and I just said jokingly ‘I don’t know, the opposite of a box?’. David had, with these specific instructions, carved a spiral-shaped bookshelf. He made it in individual pieces and nailed them to the wall.

The books filled the insides of this wooden spiral. There were occasional breaks in the row. In these breaks David had made pillars for the books to lay against for the one’s on an angle. He had made me stay at my mother’s house while he installed the sections of the bookshelf. To completely surprise me. He had done most of it at his work.

I corrected myself aloud by saying ‘his old work’. His last day been a few months ago. Zack was really keen to see what his father did at his job. David wasn’t allowed to bring him but knew no one would really bother him about it. Zack had only visited that place one time. That same day was the last David ever worked there. Everyone understood why he wouldn’t come back. Everyone was sympathetic. No one got him in trouble for bringing his kid into a worksite. No one was that cruel.

I kept staring at the spiral bookshelf. The more I stared into it the more I felt I was being absorbed into it. For some reason it made me think back to what I was planning to do earlier. I was going to see Angelica or Mum. I haven’t seen either of them for a while. They use to visit a lot more often. But it became exhausting and frustrating eventually. They would talk softly, considerately. At first, they brought up Zack, and then they would pretend like nothing happened.

Either way I would start yelling at them. I got really aggressive. I would yell at them accusingly of something. For some reason I felt they had done something terrible to me. I yelled and abused everyone I spoke to long enough and screamed incessantly. Except at David. I wouldn’t scream at David, ever.

It started getting late. It was later then when David usually came home. I remembered that it was Friday night. I knew then that he wouldn’t be back before nine o’clock at least. Knowing that he would be home, I started cleaning the dishes and doing a bit of what I was meant to do. The drain wasn’t making any noises again so I was happy. I noticed I was hungry and made myself cereal and ate from that. I had finished the bowl at 23:30 when I heard David shuffling his steps outside.

His breathing was stertorous as he moved up the steps to our door. I heard the key grazing against the wood as he tried to find the keyhole. He finally inserted the key and came inside. He looked haggard as he came in. His face was drooping and he held onto the doorknob to support himself. He focused for a moment and looked up at me sitting at the table. His stomach made a rumbling sound and he ran to the kitchen to puke inside the sink. He let out the first chunk, and waited for two more until he was empty. He moaned a little until he straightened up. He turned on the tap to wash down his vomit. He let the water run as he made his way past me and to his room. I could smell the vomit waft it’s way to me. I wasn’t bothered enough to move from my chair. The moaning sound from the drain started gain. I still wasn’t bothered to move. I started sipping from my bowl of milk when I heard the word: ‘Mum’

I let the plastic bowl fall to the floor. I looked wildly around the apartment. My heart beat against my chest and I got out of my chair. I scanned frantically around, into the loungeroom, the bathroom, my room, looking for the source of that sound. I heard it again, ‘Mum’. It was quiet, slightly metal-sounding, but the voice I knew. I ran into the kitchen. David’s vomit was still being emptied into the drain. I stared deep into the dark hole when I heard that same voice again ‘Mum’.

I started breathing rapidly. I moved the chunk away from the drain so I could stare directly into it. I looked deep into that dark circle waiting desperately for something to come out. ‘Mum’ was uttered again. I ducked beneath the sink threw open the draws. I frantically threw out all the sponges and dishwashing liquid. I pressed my ear against the pipe at the back. I waited for that sound, that voice again. The voice came again but from where the drain was above me: ‘Mum’. I stood back up and leaned into the sink. I pressed my face so close to the drain that I could feel David’s vomit against my cheeks. The tap was spraying water directly over my head. I listened and waited for that voice one more time. I stopped breathing just so no sound interrupted it. I closed my eyes and imagined that small face. That face, as I heard it, I imagined it calling ‘Mum’.

I started crying over the sinking. My body collapsed and I fell to the floor. I started bawling and gasping to breathe. I pressed my palm against my mouth to stop the sound, and waited. I waited for that voice to come back. I only heard the water rushing into the drain.

I stood back up and stared over the drain. The dark circle seemed to vibrate, or at least, move slowly towards me without leaving its place. I noticed, on my hands, David’s vomit was still greased all over. A thought sparked in my head, and I ran my fingers under the tap. As I watched as the tiny pieces of David wash down the drain, I heard the voice for the last time that night, ‘Mum’.

I was sitting on the couch when David finally stumbled out of the bedroom. He made a surprised look when he noticed me sitting on the couch. It was only a second, but he came over and sat down next to me. He didn’t notice they way I stared at him. As he sat there, hunched over trying to find the energy just to turn on the television, he didn’t notice I was staring at him the entire time. I broke my glare of him and looked down at my left hand. The blood was still pouring from the space between my index and thumb, under the bandage. Last night I had been practicing. I thought to myself where would be the best place to do it, and I caught myself staring at that little fleshy bit between the index and thumb. That little bit of extra skin just hanging between the two fingers. I was surprised how easy it was to cut it. There was pain, but it was strange. It was like I could choose whether I felt that pain or not. It was like cutting paper.

Now I was staring at the remote. I had put it close to me, so David would have to reach over. I held the scissors under the table. They were spread and shaking. I was eager. Finally, David sighed and reached over. Quickly, just before his hand touched the remote, I grabbed his wrist and snapped the flesh between the two fingers. He reeled back and swore. He stood up, cradled his hand and looked down bewildered at me. He swore again and ran to the kitchen sink. When I heard the tap running, I jumped up and followed him.

He was running the water over his hand, letting the blood filter down into the drain. He kept swearing softly to himself. He was drowned out by the voice ‘Mum. Can you hear me? Mum?’ David noticed me standing there. I was clutching the scissors still in my hand as I stood over him. He noticed my gaze this time.

The water was pouring:

‘Mum. Can you hear me? I know, now. You can hear me, Mum. It’s been scary without you. I’m still scared.

‘Don’t be scared, darling’

‘I want you here. It’s dark and cold. Dad sent me here, and I want you to come and make things better’

‘I’ll make things better. I promise I will’

‘I need you to follow me, Mum. I need you to come down here with me. Please come with me, Mum. It’ll hurt, but you can come. Won’t you?’

‘Yes, darling. Mummy is coming’