Sound of the Pause

I froze in that brief ‘track of relief’ which I had been traversing along the bumpy carpet, to find myself abruptly under the staring eyes of my father. Having snuck out from the cold bathroom floor to the coarse pressure of the hallway surface, to ease the cramp in my legs while he was snoring. I had failed to maintain listening. My leg and feet muscle cramps had disappeared completely, virtually a ‘miracle cure’. But my heart was suddenly clenched. Totally. That moment when people say their heart was in their mouth. That was now. Can young people have heart attacks of fear? I stood, heart in mouth (but pain felt completely in the chest) on the rough carpet, looking straight into the open eyes of my father, who was no longer snoring, but whose eyes were staring. Staring straight at me. Staring directly at me where I was standing very prominently in the middle of the hallway, and not in the bathroom, where I had been told to remain. Told to remain under a very real threat of further punishment. I now stood very still. Practically petrified. The light from the bathroom must clearly be illuminating my incorrectly placed self. I was standing in the wrong place (definitely at the wrong time). I stared in a manner that could only have been described, as ‘rabbit like’ or possibly ‘rabbit about to be hit by a rapidly moving car’-like”.

There was a moment of panic, when I thought of the two primeval options of humankind. ‘Fight’ or ‘flight’. I was seriously considering flight. I could imagine myself racing out into the dark night, still barefoot, in my pyjamas. Running down the back concrete steps and out across the yard. Probably all the way out to the back street and running to the park to hide. Returning to the scene of the crime as it were. The scene of my brother’s (accidental) injury, for which, I was currently being punished for. I considered it, but realised my father would be after me, like a…a… ? Honestly I’d have said angry bear, and apart from the growling that would be as close as it got, as I knew bears can usually outrun anyone while growling. I could probably have outrun my father, even with the leg cramps.

Then in the light of the lounge lamp, which my father had turned on when he had first gone into the lounge after commanding me to remain on the spot of the bathroom linoleum, I realised something about his eyes. They weren’t actually looking. They were open, but he was actually still asleep. The lids were not fully up. He was looking ahead, but not seeing. I tested my momentary theory by rocking my body slowly to the left, then to the right and back. Actually encouraging him to move his eyes and focus. He didn’t. he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t snoring, but he was still asleep. I was still alive.

(Continued tomorrow)