Strange Love

Collin had a beautiful life.

The smell of his wife’s hair floated across to him as she flipped over in the bed. It was about six am as the sun rose over the skyline and filtered into their bedroom. The blanket of sun came over them and heated their bodies. Audrey smelt like shampoo and lavender, a strong waft filling his nose as she pulled herself close into his arms. His limbs folded around her comfortably, as he took her hands. They felt small in his, like fragile bird. They were so soft, fingers so thin like plucked twigs of wheat put on the end of a palm. They curled around his own fingers. He liked that she didn’t ask why he didn’t pull her closer, or brush her hair out of her face. He liked that they just lay.

They lived together in a decently sized apartment, tucked away in coastal Victoria. They liked it here; their roots sunk low into the history here, Collin often past his old primary school on the way to work. It wasn’t a matter of much conversation, Audrey made up her mind to settle back to a place they both knew and so it happened.

Collin picked out his clothes carefully. Ordered in his closet, colour-coded and sorted in garments; pants, shirts, shorts and levels of occasion. He filtered through the clothes to the work section, casual, button-down shirt. His fingers pressed each button into the hole and smoothed down the shirt over his body. His bones stuck out against his skin, with only a small stomach to wrap his belt around. He pulled his shirt taught, put on his cuff links and pulled his socks high up. A look in the mirror indicated to move his hair slightly to the left.

He walked slowly down the corridor of his house and opens the door to his son, Andrew. The small soft figure squirms and folds itself it more layers of blanket. He traces his finger against the child’s cheek and smiles.

The train was late. He finally boards and still arrived at work on time and greets his co-workers on time. James has said hello and slapped him on the back with a cup of coffee in his hand, while Jo arrives late and apologises again for her lack of timeliness. It was a flow of routine that he was used to.

The second spout at the coffee machine was broken so everyone lined up to wait for the one spout. Bodies tried and sore, eyes sitting on purple under-eyes waited in line for a black liquid to pull their bones in order as if a doll on a string. No one ever thought to fix the other spout.

The desk was tidy, as he had left it last Friday. The pieces on his desk were on order; the computer in front of him, the numbers lightly buzzing the screen and coming in shape. He trusted the numbers to appear every morning, and they did. They flickered and stood on the screen as he worked them across the page, calculating the equations he needed and what the answers looked like. He liked the familiarity of the numbers, the pattern of the computer and the expectancy of them. It was a quiet space to indulge in peace.

The landline rings, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Hello, Collin speaking.” He answers, startled.

“Honey, hi love just letting you know we’re having Sarah and Jack over for dinner tonight, game night! ” Audrey spoke excitedly to him, barely getting the words out before they tumbled from her mouth. It was a weekly tradition, game night.

In the early months of Andrew’s birth, Audrey grew withdrawn and quiet. Her body was covered in purple and blue depths, bruises from her childbirth. Her skin had reached out for more space to hold their son, stretching as far over her belly as it could. When Andrew was born, Collin couldn’t reach her. She was lost in the loss of her body and began to fall silent. He couldn’t find the girl from school who looked at him in maths or the girl that he danced with on the first date. Audrey was harder to reach with each year that Andrew grew up. Soon Audrey started collecting people and began game night. The noise of game night filled the house from the silence, broken before only by Andrew’s screams. Sarah and Jack were loud people; booming laughter and strong perfume.

Audrey gathered people like a hoarder gathers trinkets, filling the space with people and their lives, their feelings and laughter. She pulled them in and grew off their stories. Her eyes would brighten at the gossip from them. She loved watching how they worked.

“Darling?” Audrey called into the phone again.

“Yes, of course, that would be lovely. See you at six.” Collin gently placed his finger on the receiver and went to line up at the coffee machine.

Game Night

When Sarah and Jack arrived Audrey was only half-zipped up in her blue dress and with a bare face. She hustled him into the living room and assured him that he would do fine, she just needed a moment. He could hear them already, their smiles already feeling too fierce and piercing.

“Sam, Jack, how are you? So glad to have⎯”

“Collin! Another game night!” Jack bellowed his voice so far into the room Collin thought it might wake his son.

“Yes of course, come this way.” Collin led them into a place with doors to hold in the noise as best he could. He thought the doors might rumble down with the force of their voices.

Jack sat at the table with his beer gut hanging over his belt, the belt itself fraying and loosening at the very weight of his stomach. His face blushed red with every sip of red wine, the glass held in his hand permanently, only occasionally lifting from the table as to ask for another, please.

Collin felt the need to sink himself in their cushioned armchairs for the evening, nursing his wine and breathing deeply. Game night consisted of two core ingredients he decided, a well-supplied liquor cabinet and Audrey. Liquor, to ease the humiliation of being asked to play charades, and Audrey to feel the need to have more people around. It was like a temperamental virus, an undiagnosed desire to put people into a place that was not filled. She collected their stories and hardships to recite to Collin later, to comfort the silence. Her eyes would glimmer at the tension in their relationships, their jobs, reclaiming each detail. She brought people in like a home for everyone, filling up the empty nights with people to see, to talk to, to show her family too. He saw it in her daily, weekly, constantly. Eventually, she will tire and find herself moving things around the house again, finding comfort in the over-collection of dust at the counter.

As the wine settled in their stomachs they moved outside. Jack smoked tenderly, only slightly encouraging the smoke into his lungs before puffing it out again. Collin watched eagerly, at the shaking hand of Jack.

A cry from above broke the conversation of good cigarettes, and he was happy to go see his son. “Andrew, sweetie what is the matter?” he bounced him on his shoulder and pressed his head into his. “Shh, it’s alright.” He repeated over and over quietly, slowly moving into a rhythm and tempo, bouncing his knees as he spoke the words. “It’s all okay,” he cooed over again, patting his back as he fell asleep. The small knot of tension in Collin’s chest began to unwind, shift and relax. The knots had twisted and ordered themselves into a brick in his stomach, weighing his legs down as if they had no weight. Collin sunk into the rocking chair with his child softly breathing on his shoulder, the sweet fall and rise of his body reassuring him. The converses of the guests were quiet below him, as he curled his fingers around his son and smiled. His feet tipped them backwards and forwards slowly, his breath following the direction of the movement. This small body rested on his shoulder and he felt a new knot grow, one of warmth and excitement and flooded his body fully. The feeling reached out as if a bird in the full spread of its wingspan, touching all parts of his core. He felt at peace and sat there rocking him for the rest of that night.