A Bit of the Night

by Shome Dasgupta

A rocking in the wind – rattled windows and a tremor. From night came a turbulence so maddening that he closed his eyes and covered his ears. Maybe, if he shouted, the deafening sounds – its frightening clash would subside. So. He shouted, sitting on the kitchen floor with his legs crossed. The wood of the house bent, tilting his body, and so came the memories of lunar tides – a gravity which pulled him in closer to the moment in his life when he held his Ma’s hand. Time travelling.

In the kitchen, there was a bulb hanging from the ceiling, and it swung in the rhythm of the shaking stars, causing a flickering and just like that wavering light, the memories of his Ma’s palm flashed with such lightning, he couldn’t help but to lie down on the tiles in an effort to release the flooded pain of the past. He opened his eyes – he opened them for just a bit, his hands now by his side as the moon wavered through the cracking windows – a refraction to match his murky mind.

Down the aisle, they walked – hand in hand – through the colourful corridor of toys and games to the back end of the store to find celery and cheese. A mother’s tears were never meant to be seen by a son, but he felt them drop onto his arm. He looked up only to see his Ma turn her face away – the only way she could hide such sadness.

He spoke – a question, perhaps, all in mumble, and she replied, perhaps, an endearment of words, and that was all he needed as they continued to walk.

The plastic plates edged toward their end as the night invaded his house – he continued to lie on the kitchen floor. The more and more the night entered, the more and more he entered his own memory – a quick yelp. He never liked the dark; its overwhelming presence made him yearn for sunlight.

Now they were standing in line at the store – ahead of mother and son were a family of four. He remembered how happy they were all acting, one by one, placing an infinite amount of items on the belt. Toys and candy and clothes and food. He saw a brief smile coming from Ma, who always appeared like a tower to him back then, as she looked at one of the parents. There was an exchange and a polite nod of the head. They left, but it didn’t take too long for the two of them to check out – there were only two items. The cashier wished them a good night.

More night – night and night and night. He squirmed on the kitchen floor as the blizzard of sounds shook his earth. This cracked and that cracked, and there was crackling and crashing. Just beyond the house was a large field which was a pure green under the sun, but at that moment, a toothless ocean – abysmal.

Parking lot: under dim street lights – the sky came crashing into his head, bringing the moon with it as they stood just outside their car – a strong wind and a whistling chasm of air. Ma, in tears – apologising over and over again to her child. She thanked him for being a good son. In the car, on the way home – they were quiet. He wanted to kiss Ma on the cheek. He wanted to play I See or 21 Questions, but he knew that night that he should just be quiet and listen to the sounds of the few cars alongside them, going in whichever direction.

A silence – finally, he whispered as his body relaxed. He sat up and crossed his legs again and looked around, seeing bits of this and that on the floor. The hanging bulb stopped its sway, almost smiling at him. Through the window, there was a night, but this time, it was calming and peaceful. He almost liked it, but he knew there would be another night the next day. In and out, his breath went as he finished off his memory before getting ready for breakfast.

At the kitchen table, they sat. Ma, wrapping cheese around stalks of celery in front of him – his favourite dish. She sipped her water, but his son wouldn’t eat his dinner until she took a bit herself, so she broke off a piece and put it in her mouth. He ate his dish full of glee as the night moved over them. He remembered her words that night before he found her gone the next morning.

“Happy Birthday.”

A slight tremor as he stood up, moving the cups on the floor with his feet.

He whispered back as if he was there – or maybe she was here.

“Thank you, Ma.”

Another night gone – this one was different for him, and there was a bit there, a bit of hope that maybe the dark of the sky would embrace him forever, just like Ma.