She bounces down the street in orange shorts and matching Elmo T shirt, sucking on her thumb. Looking like my daughter would. The curve of her forehead identical to mine, her skin tone an exact match. As she rounds the corner she smiles my smile, and notices me too. But unlike me she carries on, unfazed by her older version.
The bathtub is deep and cast in iron, the water warm and slowly overwhelming me. I look up through the cloudy weight of it, at the gushing tap –no one there to pull the plug.
In my imagination, I turn the doorknob gently and the hinges make no sound. And as I slip inside none of the neighbours see me. I shut the door and, all at once, I’m thrown into a blackness thicker than I’ve ever known. But there is safety in it, and I proceed a little giddily. I tiptoe to the centre of the room and the floorboards swallow up my footsteps. I feel like I’ve come floating in. You are exactly where I knew you’d be. Of course it’s three a.m. and tomorrow a working day, so it wasn’t difficult to guess. I sense your outline in the dark, you sleep curled up like a kitten. I think you’re in the middle of a dream because your limbs are moving a little jerkily. There is the soft buzzing of a zipper, then silk rustles down my body and makes contact with the floor. I crawl straight into your arms, you open them as if on cue. My cheek finds a place that suits it, just below your collar bone. I tuck my hands under your back and let them gather up your warmth. Meanwhile, in my own bed, I hear the shadow of your heartbeat. I hold my breath and listen, rocking softly to the beat.
